LAYLA
I had just gotten out of the shower and the warm soft steam was sticking to my skin like a second coat. The water had been so calming but as soon as I wrapped the towel around myself and headed for my bedroom the atmosphere changed.
Normally reassuring, the packhouse's silence felt strange. I was alerted by my instincts that something—someone—was watching me. I stopped in my tracks.
I swallowed hard and looked around me nervously and felt cold seeping into my skin.
Then I caught sight of him.
There was a man standing just inside the room, behind my wardrobe. He was too silent and motionless like a lurking shadow ready to attack. His calculating, cold and dark eyes met mine. His eyes were so cold, like they belonged to the angel of darkness. He grinned, showing yellow fangs.
