Taking Back Sunday by Cristy Rey

moment was a long time coming. Years on her tail and they had never been within a year of her, at best. It wasn’t just Cyrus who wanted to end the hunt. Angel was just as committed.
    Before he could answer, the women started toward the door. Every step they took closer to Cyrus made his heart beat faster. The women had to walk by them if they wanted to leave. Cyrus ground his teeth uncontrollably. Beside him, Angel’s breathing quickened.
    The blonde brushed past him first as she led Sunday by the hand. Inches from the Incarnate, Cyrus unconsciously reached out and grabbed Sunday’s arm. Instead of turning around swinging, Sunday simply turned on her heel, stopping her friend from moving forward in the process.
    As Cyrus and Sunday’s eyes met, the world shifted. The stale stench of cigarette and pungent clove smoke lifted. The penetrating music and the muffled shouting that passed for conversation at the club quieted. In less than a second, Cyrus was utterly changed. Cyrus’ soul settled. In the place of the consuming hate he’d nursed for over a decade, he knew peace. His entire body relaxed, and his mind quieted. His heart froze. The breath caught in his chest.
    Sunday’s body swayed as her friend tugged to keep her moving forward, but she stood her ground. Even after Cyrus released her arm, her eyes remained locked with his while her friend asked what the matter was. Her cheeks flushed. As soon as she smiled, her eyes followed suit shimmering like honey.
    Another handful of seconds passed when she finally looked away, bent her head slightly, and lowered her chin. She was blushing. Smiling. Tilting her face up, she wrinkled her nose coyly and batted her eyelashes.
    “Do I know you?” When Sunday spoke, her voice drowned out every other sound in the room. She smiled again, awaiting his response.
    His chest tightened.
    All those years he obsessively chased her, and she didn’t even know he existed. Now, she looked up at him sheepishly and more adorable than he ever imagined. She wasn’t rushing to leave. She wasn’t running away. Minutes ago, he was dead-set on tearing her to pieces. It had occurred to him in the past that he would be unable to turn her over to his contractors alive. He considered the very real possibility that, when he eventually found her, she would inspire such blind fury that he might unleash his wolf and tear out her throat. Now, however, confronted with her in the flesh, his anger melted.
    “No,” he painfully responded. For such a small word, it took a mountain of effort to say it. It was all he could do to keep from choking on the lie. She looked at him for another long moment.
    “Too bad.”
    She turned and walked away. Seconds later, Cyrus remained, staring at the gaping hole left by her absence. Her words echoed as she left him standing there feeling more lost and confused than ever in his life.
    “What was that about, Cy?”
    Cyrus didn’t have an answer. Not allowing his thoughts to delve into their momentary encounter any longer, Cyrus focused on the task at hand. The wolf couldn’t afford to let his prey on too loose a leash. Now, more than ever, she couldn’t get away. He grabbed Angel by the sleeve and dragged him along as he rushed to follow the women.
    “Why didn’t she run?” Angel asked, shaking his arm free of Cyrus.
    Again, Cyrus offered nothing in response. Instead, he single-mindedly followed the women down the street and around the corner. Eyes locked on the backs of the Incarnate and her friend, he stalked behind them with ever-quickening steps afraid that she would fall out of sight. He wouldn’t lose her now. He couldn’t. Not after waiting so long to find her. Not after getting the answer to a question that he feared would have plagued him for the rest of his days—the same question Angel had given voice to just minutes earlier. What was that about, Cy?
    Cyrus knew. There was no doubt.
    The Incarnate was his mate.
    “Get the goddamn truck.”

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