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and crushed her lips beneath his. Breathing quickly became forgotten as his lips plundered hers, and she clutched his shoulders, desperate to hold onto reality. Her ability to think fled, as all her senses and thoughts were consumed by the man holding her.
    But was he a man?
    Men didn’t come to you in dreams before you ever met them in real life.
    The thought sobered her as being doused with a bucket of cold water would have, and she jerked away from his kiss. His hands tightened painfully in her hair, and she whimpered in protest.
    “Who are you? What are you?”
    His gaze hardened. The hunter look returned to his face, and a shiver crept over her spine. Her mind shrieked at her, warning her of danger.
    “You are mine, remember it always,” he whispered. He tore his gaze from hers and looked behind her head and cursed under his breath. He kissed her hard—rushed—and turned from her and ran.
    Only the sound of her speeding heart and the eerie purple moon kept her company .
     
    ***
     
    The next week was filled with writing her current romance novel and decorating, and she didn’t leave her house. Until today, anyway. It was Friday, and she’d decided to take a trip into town for some shopping. Checking off the last item on her list, she groaned when her stomach growled. Time for a dinner break.
    She, of course, knew where to go.
    She parked in front of the tavern where she’d seen him in the flesh and hopped out of the car with bated breath. Would he be there? She absentmindedly threw a bill into the jar in front of the homeless man—sleeping, again—and entered the dimly lit room. She searched, but only the flickering light hanging over the middle of the room met her eyes. Disappointment crept over her even as she searched the room once more. As if he’d appear from behind the door and yell, “Boo!” To make it worse, no dreams had come all week, and she yearned to see him, to see if he actually existed. This was ridiculous in itself, because of course he didn’t.
    Duh .
    When lingering over her dinner didn’t make him magically appear, she left the tavern heavy-hearted. Each footstep she took seemed harder than the last. She paused and considered the alleyway he’d appeared in the other day.
    Could he be in there?
    “Looking for him, miss?”
    She jumped at the gravelly voice behind her, whirling to see who spoke. It was the homeless man—aware for once. Awake, he positively terrified her. Intelligence swam in his eyes, and that was all she could make out of him. The rest of his face was buried under hair and dirt.
    She hesitated. “I’m sorry? Looking for who?”
    “The tall bloke who came here last time you were, miss.”
    “I thought you were sleeping.” Nonchalantly, she rested her hand on the mace hanging off her keychain—and found it missing…again.
    His eyes followed her small movement. “I just see things, I do. And I saw him leave, and he watched you leave.”
    “So he was there,” she said. “I thought I saw him in the alley!”
    “Yes, miss. But right as soon as he saw you, he scattered like the rats that live there—always trying to steal my food, they are.” He shook his head and grumbled something too quietly for Sabrina to make out.
    “Are you always here?” she asked.
    “I live here, ma’am. Keep an eye on the place to make sure the wrong sort doesn’t get in.” His chest puffed out in pride. She refrained from pointing out most establishments deemed him the wrong sort. She knew he’d take offense at the remark and had no desire to hurt his feelings.
    “Well, obviously you do an excellent job. Have you seen the man here again, recently?”
    “Oh yes, he came here today. Looked real out-of-sorts, he did. Hiding in the shadows, searching for something. Methinks he seeks you.” His tone of voice held a sly tone to it, as if he were in on a secret she wasn’t.
    She shivered and glanced toward the alley. “Is he here, now?” She searched the shadows, but sensed no