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Nat sat on the bed in the room where she’d spent the night. She was in shock from what had happened in the kitchen. She was supposed to be on a trip with her girls, but instead of having fun they had been attacked and now kidnapped by crazy people who thought they could shift into animals. Deep breaths, she reminded herself. She was a trained professional who worked with those suffering from many disorders — sufferers and those that supported those who suffered — she could handle a few men with a delusional disorder.
What really bothered Nat was that she wasn’t so sure they were delusional. Logically, she knew they had to be, but deep down her heart whispered about possibilities. Was this one of the reasons that she enjoyed paranormal romance so much, was she a closet believer in the unexplained? Maybe she should call her friend from college and set up an appointment once she got the girls out of this mess — she obviously needed some psychoanalyzing.
Toeing off her shoes, she realized that she held her hand against her chest. It still buzzed from where Charlie had touched it and she felt the need to protect herself from whatever the electricity was that had moved through her body at his touch. Since the day she’d visited the psychic she hadn’t slept worth a damn. Dreams of panthers and of a man with blond hair had tormented her awake each night. Then she saw that tattoo. Since then, the dreams became even more detailed, and when she’d seen Charlie…
“Argh,” she yelled as she flung herself back on the bed and grabbed a pillow to cover her face.
The soft cotton was soaked in sandalwood, the earthy smell of the man that kept intruding on her thoughts. His blond hair and blue-green hazel eyes had haunted her from the moment she’d first seen him. Him and that damn panther tattoo. How she wished she’d fought against going to the tattoo shop now. Damn it, she should have talked Al and Rogue into going to one of the other book events in any other state than Louisiana. Then they wouldn’t be in this mess.
She groaned. Nat prided herself on always facing things head on, but today… all she wanted to do was hide under the blankets.
A knock on the door caused her to groan. She wasn’t ready to talk to her friends. She had no answers to give them.
The door creaked open, “Natalie? Can we talk?”
Fuck. It was him.
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