Replica(2)

“Ivan?”

“Yup, that’s me. Shitty name, if you don’t mind me saying so, but my mother’s favorite uncle died young, and well, you get the picture.” He smiled, and white, white teeth blinked back at me.

“Russian, isn’t it?” I softened my words even more, a niggling suspicion at the back of my neck.

He nodded several times as he steered us through traffic. “Yeah, you good with nationalities?”

I dropped my voice further yet. A whisper of a whisper. “Yes. And where do you think I’m from, Ivan?”

His grin never faltered. “Well, it’s hard to say with that dark hoodie on, but your voice has a bit of an accent. Maybe...Italy?”

“Close.” I barely breathed the word out.

What kind of game was he playing? Or was I being too fucking jaded, yet again? I leaned back in my seat, but kept my hands at the top of my boots, where my silver stakes resided. They would work on supernaturals other than vampires...including what I suspected was Ivan’s particular flavor of monster. His smell was distinct.

Like the smell of fresh snow and maple syrup.

We made it to the TV station without incident. Perhaps it should have told me something that when a simple car ride was quiet, I got...nervous.

I pushed the money through the slot in the plastic barrier, making sure my fingers brushed his. A flicker of energy snapped across our hands and his eyes shot to mine. He was far from harmless, but he wasn’t the raving maniac so many of his kind ended up being.

A kid. He was a kid compared to my age.

Rachel wouldn’t want me to hurt him, and that was the only thing that kept me from driving my stake through the plastic and into the back of his neck.

I lifted the corner of my mouth so he could clearly see a single fang. “Ivan, not only do I believe the boogeyman is real, I know him quite well. Or should I say, her?”

His mouth dropped open and he spluttered as I slid out of the cab.

Which was why it shouldn’t have surprised me when he stepped out of the cab as well. “Wait, I want to talk to you.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t stop. “Go home to your kennel, Ivan.”

He let out a snarl and whipped around in front of me. Taller than me, his light green eyes were closer to chartreuse. A tattoo on his left collarbone peeked out from the V in his shirt. The hard edges of his jaw and muscular torso told me all I needed to know. He was an enforcer, good at keeping his people in line. I reached up and tugged his shirt down further. A pack tattoo. A simple maple leaf torn into four pieces with a wolf’s tooth between each.

“Russian, indeed. This is a Canadian pack stamp. You running from someone?”

Ivan shrugged and grinned. “Maybe. You want to run with me?” He waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous up and down movement. I refused to smile.

“Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting, you idiot?” I put a hand on his chest and he leaned into it, a chuckle rumbling under my fingers.

He put his hand over mine. “I think so.”

The flash of heat between us shocked me. My heart had been tied to Calvin for so long that the idea of being with anyone else...especially someone non-human… I pushed him hard enough to send him back a good ten feet. Which, when pushing his kind around, was saying something.

His grin never faltered. “I want to come with you. Wherever you’re going, let me come.”

I put two fingers to my forehead. Stubborn-ass werewolves. Once they set their minds on something, that was it. “I could kill you where you stand, drain you down and throw your body in the back of your cab to rot. Without blinking.”

Ivan stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles. His eyes never left mine. “You could try. There’s a reason I was able to break free of my pack.”

I strode past him. “If you follow me, I will kill you.”

He fell into stride behind me. “I don’t believe you. I think you like me.”

I grabbed my stake and spun, aiming for his chest. He caught my forearm, stopping me. “Go away, mutt.”

“I’ve heard it all, sweetheart. Everything and then some. You aren’t going to scare me off.”

Frustration snapped through me like the flickering of a lightning bolt. Brilliant, hot, and then gone with nothing more than a negative afterimage of what had been there. I did not have time for this shit.

I jerked my hand out of his. Or tried to. I jerked, he pulled and I was suddenly pressed against his chest, those chartreuse eyes staring down at me.

His eyes dipped to my mouth.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I bit out, then snapped my teeth at him for good measure. A thread of panic curled over me. He would not kiss me. He wouldn’t. He was a...and I was a...