Back in the penthouse, Jason Cruz walked out of the bathroom to meet an empty bed.
His eyebrows had shot up as he wondered where she would have gone.
He sniffed the air desperately. Her intoxicating scent was fading fast, like smoke being carried away by the wind. His wolf whined inside him, already missing her presence.
"Where the hell..." Jason's voice trailed off as panic clawed at his throat.
She definitely didn't know anywhere around his penthouse. Remembering how she'd fainted the moment she saw his wolf outside, he knew she was an easily terrified human so where could such a woman run to in the middle of the night?
He stormed out of the bedroom, not bothering to dry his hair, his bare feet silent on the marble floors.
He checked the living room, Kitchen, balcony, everywhere but nothing.
His heart pounded in fright as he realized she was truly gone.
He was in the middle of the living room, eyes darting around, hoping against hope that she would suddenly appear from the thin air, when his personal assistant, Ray walked through the front door, loosening his tie after another late night at the recording studio.
The man doubled as his best friend and lived in the penthouse's guest wing.
"Damn, boss!" Ray began with a lazy grin, inhaling deeply.
"I can smell an unfamiliar but alluring scent of a woman around here. It's faint now, but whoever she was... she smells incredible."
"Which of your obsessed fangirls managed to get past security tonight?" Ray's grin widened mischievously.
"That was my mate!" Jason snarled, his golden eyes blazing with fury.
Ray's playful expression vanished instantly. In all their years of friendship, through countless women who'd thrown themselves at the famous Jason Cruz, Ray had never heard him use that word. Ever.
"Your... your mate?" Ray's voice came out as a whisper.
"Did you see her outside when you came in?" Jason demanded, running both hands through his wet hair frantically.
"No, I didn't see anyone. The street was completely empty." Ray's eyebrows furrowed with both concern and confusion.
Jason sniffed the air again, his nostrils flaring as he searched for any trace of a particular vampire's distinctive scent, thinking whether this was his doing.
"I can't smell the bloodsucker anywhere around here, so where the fuck could she have gone?" He muttered, more to himself than to Ray, the latter whose confusion deepened at the mention of a bloodsucker.
He knew their kind would never familiarize themselves with, let alone befriend a vampire.
Suddenly, Jason could feel a tug through the mate bond, it was like a physical blow to the chest. The invisible thread connecting him to her pulled tight, sending waves of distress through his system.
"Someone or something is hurting my mate..." A low, deadly growl rumbled from deep in his throat, making Ray step back instinctively.
"Ray, drop everything and start searching for her. Check the security cameras, call your contacts, do whatever it takes. NOW!" Jason commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous register that made his assistant snap to attention.
Before Ray could even respond, Jason's body began to shift right there in the pristine living room.
His bones cracked and elongated with wet, popping sounds. His muscles expanded rapidly, tearing through his clothes.
Thick black fur sprouted across his skin as his face elongated into a powerful muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth.
"Jason, we don't shift inside the house!" Ray yelled in disapproval as he eyed the black wolf which was the size of a small horse.
There would be fur everywhere, the expensive furniture would be ruined, but none of that mattered to Jason.
The wolf's claws scraped against the marble floor, leaving deep gouges, let out a bone-chilling howl that shattered several wine glasses on the counter, then bounded toward the balcony with supernatural speed.
One thought consumed the predator's mind completely:
"*I will tear apart anyone who dares touch what's mine.*"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, across the city, Maxwell Salvador was currently wreaking havoc on the furniture in his living room.
"Damn it! Where could she have gone to, by this time?" He seethed as he dug his fangs into another sofa- the third sofa he would destroy. It was as if seeing the foams in them fly all over the room intensified his anger and he felt good about that.
This rage: he must ride out every bit of it.
Earlier, he had returned from the kitchen carrying a silver tray laden with delicacies he had prepared with his own hands: something he hadn't done for anyone not even himself in centuries...
And found the bed empty.
She was gone.
"She belongs in my arms, by my side..." Maxwell groaned in discomfort, instantly feeling empty at her absence.
He had moved through his penthouse like a hunting predator, checking every room with methodical precision. From all the corners of the master bedroom, guest rooms down to even the kitchen where he had left earlier.
She had vanished completely.
He had returned to his living room, his pale hands clenched into fists as rage built in his chest. Five hundred years of existence had taught him perfect control, but that control was cracking at this moment.
"Fuck!" He slammed his fist into the marble wall with inhuman force. The impact created a spider web of cracks that spread across the entire surface, chunks of expensive stone crumbling to the floor.
His domestic staff stood motionless in one corner, their heads bowed in respectful silence. The five male vampires didn't even blink at their master's display of supernatural strength.
After decades of serving Maxwell Salvador, they had witnessed far worse.
All of them were unbelievably young and handsome as most vampires were, impeccably dressed but right now they looked like soldiers awaiting orders from their commanding general.
"How did none of you notice when my woman walked out of this penthouse?" Maxwell's voice was deadly quiet, more terrifying than if he'd screamed.
The silence stretched for several heartbeats before Lahey, the chef found the courage to speak.
"Sir, earlier tonight, you sent explicit instructions for all staff to avoid the main areas of the penthouse. We were ordered to stay out of sight completely." Lahey said carefully, keeping his eyes downcast.
Maxwell's jaw tightened as the memory returned. He had indeed commanded them to make themselves invisible because he didn't want anything to frighten his delicate human mate. He had wanted their first night together to be perfect, undisturbed.
His own precautions had backfired spectacularly.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Maxwell's chest and he staggered backward. Through the supernatural mate bond he had established with her, he could feel her terror and pain as if they were his own.
Someone was hurting his woman. He could feel her fear.
"FUCK!" Maxwell roared, his extended fangs looking for where else to assault.
His hand swept across the glass coffee table, shattering the priceless antique in rage.
After exhaling sharply, Maxwell pulled out his phone from his trousers with trembling fingers: not from fear, but from barely restrained homicidal rage.
He dialed a number, one that connected him to the most dangerous network in the supernatural underworld.
The call was answered before the first ring finished.
"I need you to find the whereabouts of someone... My woman." Maxwell's voice was thick with authority.
He paused, his red eyes blazing like flames from hell itself.
"You have until dawn to bring me her location. If you fail... I will hunt down every member of your organization and paint the city with their blood, because I hate failures. Do I make myself clear?"
"But if you succeed, you get paid heavily." He stated sharply yet lowly, his voice laced with unspeakable violence, then ended the call.