Page 2 of Wolf Promise

Regie didn’t recognize him, but there were over two hundred people in the class that met in a vast auditorium. She studied his tall, lean build and curly black hair, but he didn’t look familiar. He also seemed older than most college students. “Did you do okay on today’s final?” she asked, picking up the dropped bottle.

He frowned briefly but then smiled and nodded. “Right, the final. I probably passed.” Unease trickled down Regie’s spine as he took a few steps closer and lowered his voice. “I bet you got a high score, though.”

Careful not to turn her back on him, she stepped to the side of the car, threw her water bottle into the trunk, and closed it. She placed her finger on the alarm button of the key fob. “Well, I better get going. I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re a loner, Regie. I’ve been watching you for weeks. You rarely see friends. I don’t think you even have any.”

The unease flared to full-on high alert. She twisted around to open her car door.

Before she could grab the handle, the man grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her key fob and squeezed hard. The pressure forced her fingers to open, and she watched the fob fall to the ground. It landed with the red alarm button facing the ground.

The man pulled her toward him. He looped an arm around her neck, covering her mouth with his hand, and pushed down hard.

Regie struggled to get free as he dragged her toward the other car. But her running shoes slipped in the gravel, refusing to gain traction so she could push against him. And his palm pressed too hard against her lips for her to bite him.

She tried to scratch his face with her free hand, but he just pushed her head further down toward the ground, making it impossible for her hands to reach. Trying to keep her balance in the loose gravel, she grabbed the hand that covered her mouth and screamed. Only a muffled groan came out.

They reached the car, and Regie fought to force down her panic. If she gave in, she wouldn't be able to think coherently. She needed to remain in control and apply logic so she could find a chance to escape.

She grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked to free her mouth.

The man’s pulse throbbed against her thumb, beating almost as fast as her own heart. “Keep fighting,” he said. “I like my women feisty.”

Anger quickly rose inside Regie. While her heart thudded wildly because of fear, this sick freak had an elevated heart rate because her struggle turned him on.

The anger swelled to rage, filling her with a dark calm. The thuds of his pulse filled her mind. Their rhythm sang to the evil thing hiding inside her, and the darkness rose to dance.

She closed her eyes and embraced the swirls of black. In her mind’s eye, she could see his blood pumping through the vein on his wrist on its way to the heart. That beating organ loomed in her mind, and she wanted to squeeze it as hard as he was still holding her.

Tendrils of her dark rage swirled from her hand through the man’s skin. They spiraled along the vein leading to the man’s heart and weaved an ebony net around it. Every cardiac beat made the mesh stronger and pulled on the life force inside, funneling energy to the dark fury inside her.

The man stumbled. He tried to release her, but she kept her grip on his wrist, pushing her anger inside him.

He yelled out and crumbled to the ground.

Regie loomed over him, still holding his wrist, squeezing it harder. She stared into his eyes, the man’s shock and fear evident in his gaze.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Is this feisty enough for you?” Her voice trembled with cold fury. She sounded nothing like herself.

He opened his mouth again, but only a wet, strangled gurgle escaped his lips as his eyes closed. His pulse stopped abruptly, and his body went limp. A cell phone fell out of his shirt pocket and skidded under the car.

Regie dropped his wrist. Stumbling back, she stared at her hand.

What had happened?

Did he have a cardiac arrest? She didn’t really stop his heart? Did she?

She took another few steps back and turned toward her car. She stopped mid-step toward the vehicle. She couldn’t just leave the man on the ground. He was probably just injured, right? She didn’t kill him. Did she?

She returned to his side, crouched down, and nudged him.

The man didn’t react. Shit.

Placing her fingers on his neck, she found a weak, fluttery pulse.

A relieved breath escaped from Regie. Not dead, but close.

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