Anton

The accounts she’d heard of Anton Alexander focused on his power and strength. No one had mentioned his beauty. Yet how could anyone ignore the exoticness of the millennium-old shifter?

Black streaks etched his golden eyes, giving him an evocative edge, and his black hair with its thick strip of blond locks tucked behind one ear lent him a trendy look.

Anton wasn’t a model, though. He was power personified. He knew it too. Nyx recognized the way Anton held himself. As if he was better than everyone else.

His regal cheekbones, full lips, and straight nose enhanced his perfect image. He could pass himself off as a god. She’d believe him if he told her he’d stepped down from the heavens. And if he told her to kneel before him…

“Did you come here in response to an ad?” Anton’s raised brow implied his annoyance with her silence.

Nyx’s breath rushed out. She’d been holding it, lost in Anton’s black-and-gold eyes. “Yes. I waited at the front door for some time, but nobody escorted me to you.”

“Who would? I have no staff.”

Her uncle Boris had shared that fact. Whereas most Council members had, at the minimum, a butler, Anton lived alone in this large home. Every employee had quit. Or died.

“I assumed you’d greet me.”

“You assumed wrong.”

---

“Do you need something from me?”

Nyx’s breathless voice yanked his gaze to her face. She’d pulled her long black hair into a sloppy, loose ponytail. A single tug on the band holding her hair in place would unravel it, sending the shiny strands cascading around her shoulders. While she’d looked tempting with her hair loose, this style drew his attention to her smooth neck and shoulders. A savage bite would look beautiful there.

The throbbing in his jaw matched the awareness settling in his groin. Even without the influence of his cats, the evidence was undeniable. This female had triggered his primal side. His baser half wanted to answer the lure of her provocative scent, claiming her—mating her—before anyone else could.

Why her?

---

“What have you done to my kitchen?”

Anton’s bellowed question tore a gasp from her throat. She spun.

Dressed in another pair of chinos and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Anton stood in the doorway with his eyes locked on her, not the mess she’d made. His wild-eyed gaze mapped her face before taking in her sad state. Flour, sugar, and sticky cookie dough covered her body.

She was a wreck.

Nyx brushed a shaky hand over her hair. Her fingers snagged in the strands. She turned her palm over. Cookie dough covered it. She’d just rubbed it in her hair.

“Answer me.” Anton gripped the doorframe. “It looks like a bomb went off in here.”

“I…” She glanced over her shoulder at the disaster area she’d caused. “I’m making cookies.” And failing miserably at it.

Anton stared at her for several heartbeats before taking a few steps into the kitchen. His judging eye skipped over the flour-covered counter, the broken sifter she’d tossed in a fit of frustration, and the spray of cookie batter across the floor.

A tic formed in his jaw. He slowly dragged his attention to her. “You are?”

“Well…” She took in the scene and sighed. “It’s a ‘new to me’ recipe. I struggled a little with it.”

“Struggled?” Anton snorted. His lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “It looks like you fought and lost.”