The pleasure lashed through him. Strong enough to make him go blind. Strong enough to make him wish that he was someone else.

Someone who didn’t have to leave.

Someone who could love.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

No, that wasn’t just his heartbeat. That was a hard knock at the door.

“Mr. Smith?” a thin voice called out. Probably the hotel manager. “Mr. Smith . . . there are . . . people here to see you.”

Cain stared down at Eve for a moment longer. “Don’t mention my name.”

It was what he’d told her before.

Her lashes lowered.

He wanted to stay. But staying—that would mean more danger for Eve. She had a chance now. A chance to do what she’d wanted all along.

She didn’t need him.

I need her.

He pulled away from her. Yanked on his clothes and headed for the adjoining room. One jerk, and he broke the lock. There wasn’t anyone else in that room, he’d already checked and—

“I’ve never seen someone so good at walking away.”

He glanced back at her words. Eve stood beside the bed, pulling on her clothes. Had that been an echo of pain in her voice?

He didn’t want Eve to hurt. Not ever. Not her.

And that’s why I’m leaving.

Eve didn’t understand, but he still had to hunt. There was something—someone—who would be coming for her.

The werewolf hadn’t died. But he’d sure been hell-bent on his target.

Eve.

I’ll find him. I’ll stop him. Before the wolf could go after her. Cain couldn’t afford to be caught in the bright light of the press. Not when he needed to stay in the shadows in order to hunt.

And to keep surviving.

“I’m not going far,” he told her, wondering if she realized the words were a promise. Maybe she couldn’t tell. He knew they sounded like a threat.

Her lips parted. “Cain?”

“Not far,” he repeated. The beast inside him wouldn’t allow him to leave her, not for long.

“Mr. Smith?” That nasal voice called again. “I-I . . . they want me to let them inside.”

“See you soon, baby,” Cain told Eve and watched as she turned away.

He shut the door and strolled through the connecting room. He unlocked the room’s main door and headed into the hallway, appearing right behind the pack of reporters and cops who’d closed in on Eve when she opened her own hotel room door.

For a moment, he hesitated, but then he heard her say, voice clear and commanding, “My name is Eve Bradley, and I have proof that not only did Richard Wyatt set me up for a series of crimes, but Wyatt and Genesis Corporation have been abducting and experimenting on supernaturals . . .”

The reporters were filming. The story would be hitting televisions all across the state within minutes. The networks wouldn’t miss out on a juicy story like this one—they’d want in on the action.

Eve’s tale wouldn’t be hushed up. The cops wouldn’t be able to block the reporters.

The truth would get out.

Cain began to whistle as he walked toward the elevator. She’d get her headlines.

Eventually, he’d be back to get her.

“All charges are being dropped, Ms. Bradley,” Detective Jason Roberts told Eve as he leaned across the table and pinned his baby blues on her. “By this afternoon, you’ll be a free woman.”

Her lawyer, an attorney sent by the local Channel Seven news team, leaned forward with an intent look on her face. “I want my client free within the hour.”

Detective Roberts glanced her way. Those blue eyes—Eve was sure the guy used them to lull suspects into a false sense of security every single day—hardened a bit. “Then you need to go out and take that up with the judge, Ms. Hancock.”

With a sniff, the lawyer rose. Janice Hancock stared down at him from her five-foot-three height and gave a smile that could have frozen Hawaii. “I will.” She leveled her stare at Eve. “Don’t say anything else to these cops, understand?”

Eve nodded. But talking wasn’t a problem. Her whole bit was that she was talking. Sharing everything she’d learned about Genesis and Richard Wyatt.

It turned out that Uncle Sam wasn’t exactly thrilled to be caught in the PR nightmare. Humans were outraged that supernaturals had been held captive and killed for genetic experiments.

When the public got outraged, the government took note—and started playing very, very nicely.

Eve waited until the door shut behind her lawyer. She liked Janice well enough—the woman was a shark, and sharks were always great creatures to behold—but she was planning to ask the detective a few questions of her own while she had the chance. “Did they recover Wyatt’s body?” She knew the detective had gone back to Genesis in order to see for himself what waited in Beaumont.