There were two warring voices in her head. One telling her to leave immediately and one telling her to stay.
She was beginning to fear that she might be schizophrenic or something.
Michelle and Tom came up to them. "Hey, guys, I hate to bang out on you, but Tom and I are going someplace quiet to talk, okay?"
Cassandra smiled at them. "Sure. You two have fun."
As soon as they left, she looked at Kat. "No need in us staying, huh?"
"Are you sure you want to leave?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Cassandra got up from her chair and grabbed her purse. Shrugging on her coat, she wasn't paying attention to anything until she walked into someone who was standing as still as a wall.
"Oh, I'm sor-" Her words broke off as she looked up a good four inches into the face that had haunted her dreams.
It was him!
She biblically knew every inch of that solid, gorgeous male body.
"Wulf?"
Wulf was stunned beyond comprehension as he heard his name on her lips. "You know me?"
A becoming blush stained her face and it was then he knew...
Those hadn't been dreams.
She started away from him.
"Cassandra, wait."
Cassandra froze as she heard her name on his lips.
He knew her name...
Run! It sounded like her mother's voice in her head, but the order was drowned out by the part of her that didn't want to run away from him.
He reached his hand out toward her.
Cassandra couldn't breathe as she stared at it, wanting his touch. His real touch.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out to him.
Just as she was about to touch him, a shimmer over his shoulder caught her eye.
She looked past him to see a strange mirrorlike image appear on the dance floor. Out of its midst stepped a man who was evil incarnate.
Standing at least six feet eight, he was dressed all in black with short ebony hair that framed the face of perfection. He was every bit as handsome as Wulf. And like Wulf, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. The only color on him was a bright yellow sun with a black dragon in its center that was painted on the front of his motorcycle jacket.
In spite of his black hair, he was a Daimon. She knew it with every Apollite instinct she possessed. What's more, he was followed through the opening by more Daimons. All of whom were blond and dressed in black.
They oozed an unnatural attraction and virility. Most of all, they oozed deadly precision.
They weren't here to feed. They were here to kill.
She stepped back with a gasp.