Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)(23)

Her tone ranges from indignant to outlandish and her blue-green eyes snap to mine as though she’s gauging my reaction to what she clearly thinks is an outrageous statement. “I woke up this morning in this fancy-ass house. And these two huge guys tried to convince me that I’m a wolf.”

Oh fuck. Oh, fucking fuck. My eyes widen as her statement wallops me.

“That’s when I stole the car and drove straight here. I’ll give it back, I promise, just as soon as I can get into mine and get the hell out of here.” Her voice wavers, like she might be on the verge of tears.

My heart feels as heavy as a compacted lump of metal. All the hope and excitement I had this morning turns from gold into lead.

I grip the arms of my office chair, trying not to rip them off as the reality of this situation becomes crystal clear. I don’t know which part of her statement shocks me more.

Attacked?

Drugged?

Hallucinated?

She thinks she hallucinated the Hunt.

No, even worse…she didn’t call it the Hunt. She called it a wolf attack.

She sits across from me, unaware that every word from her lush mouth is now a piercing arrow. My pulse hammers loudly in my ears, and an invisible, gaping hole opens in my chest.

How is this possible?

She has no idea that she’s an eerie, a shifter, someone with enough magic in her blood to become a wolf.

Which means…she doesn’t know what my den has done to her, what we’ve roused in her blood, or that she’s supposed to be mine…ours. Perth’s, Ruger’s, and Gannon’s faces flash through my mind, and panic churns my stomach.

Fuck.

We finally found our mate, and…she could reject us.





7





NOAH





I try not to stare too hard at the gorgeous man sitting across from me. But try is a mile away from don’t.

A large desk and the last dregs of my dignity are the only things separating me from the sheriff, though I sort of wish they weren’t.

Heat crawls up my throat and settles into my cheeks as I spill everything that’s happened in the past twelve-ish hours. He doesn’t cringe at my confessions or accusations, as wild and unhinged as they sound.

Does that mean he believes me or that he’s got a lot of practice dealing with crazy people?

I don’t ask because I’m not certain I want an answer.

Instead, I let my eyes glide down from his handsome face until they get stuck, for the third time, on the veins near his wrists. For a second, I catch a flash of black, but then I blink, and it’s gone.

Great. Now I’m seeing tattoos that aren’t there? And what in this office smells so damn good?

I would question what’s wrong with me, but at this point it might be easier to tabulate what’s not wrong with me.

“The two crazy guys this morning didn’t hurt me or anything, but still…” I trail off, annoyed that I feel compelled to add that detail.

A pained look crosses the sheriff’s face at my last words. It’s there and gone so quickly that I don’t have time to analyze it or suss out a cause. He frowns as he runs his strong fingers through his dirty blond hair, and I watch the strands fall back into a perfect wave.

He could easily be a hair model. Then again with his full lips, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and the sexy scruff dusting his chiseled jaw, the term model in general is no stretch of the imagination. I could totally picture him laid out on a billboard in nothing but boxer briefs and a devastatingly gorgeous smile.

The sheriff clears his throat, and I blink away my ridiculous thoughts.

What is wrong with me? I’m here for help, not to perv out all over the hot cop. Was there Ecstasy mixed in with my hallucinogen?

I try to mentally shake off the hormones wreaking havoc on my system as Sheriff Arcan pulls open a drawer to his left. He extracts a notepad and then plucks a pen from a knocked over cup on his desk. Staring at them a moment, he finally lifts his baby-blue gaze to mine. The compassion banked in his stare makes my breath hitch and my eyes start to sting.

“I’m so sorry that you were hurt, Noah. You should have been safe here.” His fist clenches on top of the legal pad, and his voice grows tight when he says, “And I’m so damn angry that someone did this to you.” Breathing carefully, as if he has to take a moment to calm himself down, he gives me a regretful smile before he gently adds, “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make this right.”

There’s a deep rumble in his declaration that encourages goose bumps to crawl all over my arms. I know it’s his job as a police officer to reassure me, but for some reason I believe what he’s saying. I can almost taste his pain and anger on my behalf as if they’re floating through the air.

“Did you get a look at whoever attacked you outside of the diner?” he asks, pen now poised over the notepad as his intense gaze studies me.

“No. They hit me from behind and knocked me out. But…”

“But?” he repeats softly, coaxing me to open up.

I chew my lip. “I mean, I know accusations are serious. And I don’t know for sure. I need to preface things by saying that. But I had some weird encounters with a few people here last night.”

He nods, concerned. “Tell me about them.”