My mind scrambled for a lie, an excuse, anything—but all I could think of was how close he was. How tightly he gripped me. How much stronger he felt up close. And how utterly screwed I was.
He tilted his head slightly.
And in that moment, I realized—
I wasn’t the hunter anymore.
I was prey.
“Why are you following me?”
His voice was low, rough—no room for kindness.
“Who are you?”
I stayed silent, my face still wrapped in the scarf. The fabric clung to my heated breath, but I didn’t move.
“I wasn’t following you,” I snapped, summoning my real voice—the one I hadn’t used in weeks. “I don’t even know you!”
Kross’s gaze darkened. He leaned in so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, and then—he sniffed.
My stomach flipped.
His nose brushed my hair, my neck—and before I cou
