The night was quiet in the small neighborhood where he lived. No one was watching as he slipped the key into the lock of his home and entered. A gray tabby cat lounged on the couch, watching him with silver eyes.
“Lizzy,” he greeted softly. The cat let out a soft purr, her tail twitching. She was one of three strays he’d rescued in recent years, much to the frustration of his friend Connor O’Shea.
Carrying the unconscious woman into his bedroom, he eased her down onto the comforter and placed a pillow beneath her head. He grit his teeth when he leaned too close to her and the irresistible scent of blood filled his senses.
But there was more than that. Even dirty and unwashed, the scent of living on the streets didn’t repel his senses as they usually did when he crossed paths with the ho
