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these letters she’s receiving. I’ll need to see them, too.”
    “I left them at the office,” Genevieve said.
    “He can stop by tomorrow.” Cresso nodded at Mac and the shifter retreated into the house.
    Almost as if against her will, Genevieve’s eyes traveled back down to the rats. She let out a little sigh. “What am I going to do?”
    The tug on his heartstrings prompted him into action. “I’ll get rid of these. You go pack a bag.”
    One of her brows lifted. “Pack?”
    “You can’t stay here alone. Not until this mess is straightened out.”
    Genevieve tugged the sash on her robe tighter. “So, where am I supposed to stay?”
    She wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit. “My place.”
    Her eyes widened into a look of horror that would be comical if it wasn’t so damn soul crushing.
    “What?”

Chapter Four
    On the long list of things Genevieve never thought she’d be doing, spending the night at Cresso’s apartment had to be somewhere near the top. After he’d initially suggested it, she’d come up with a million reasons why it was a bad idea, and he’d countered every one. Truth be told, he was right. She couldn’t stay at her house. Not only was it dangerous, but there was no way in hell she’d ever be able to get any sleep, knowing that her stalker knew where she lived.
    Yet, would Cresso’s place be any less dangerous? After all, he was going to be in it.
    Even now, riding in Cresso’s car, she was assaulted by his lush cinnamon-and-spice scent. Occasional jolts of electricity streamed toward her, sliding along her body in an erotic caress that left her breathless with need. His incubus allure—and she was beginning to suspect he had very little control over it. He certainly didn’t seem to be enjoying her discomfort. In fact, if his stiff arms and tight jaw were any indication, the man was every bit as uncomfortable as she was.
    After a tense fifteen-minute car ride, Cresso finally broke the silence. “Is there anyone you need to call, to let them know what’s happening?”
    Genevieve couldn’t help but laugh at that. The only people who would even be interested were her parents, but she couldn’t tell them for one simple reason. “Mom and Dad would freak out, and they don’t know about the Otherworlds, so that’s a definite no.”
    “Your mother or your father, they don’t have your magical ability?”
    Cresso’s long fingers slid down the steering wheel, sparking a shiver of longing in Genevieve’s body. She directed her gaze out the windshield before it could morph into a full-blown tremor. “My father’s a respected biochemist. His work has always come so easily to him. I think he does have the ability, but not at the same level as I do.”
    Not enough that he’d ever questioned it or considered himself strange. Certainly not enough that he’d ever been ridiculed by his peers.
    “Hey, four eyes, the nerd herd called and said they’re looking for you.”
    The unwelcome memory of that tenth-grade moment was seared into her brain, especially since it had been so unexpected. Scott was her assigned lab partner, and he was one of the most popular jocks in school. He’d always been so kind to her, constantly joking, asking questions, and even going to her house to study. She’d developed the biggest crush on him. But the day the semester had ended, his hot cheerleader girlfriend had waited for him outside the classroom, and he’d uttered that sentence. Loud enough that anyone within earshot could hear it. She’d never forgotten the sound of the cheerleader’s hysterical laughter as she led him away. Genevieve had been left alone to fight back the tears that threatened to spill when she realized he’d only been nice to her so she could help him pass the class.
    “When did you first realize your abilities were special?” Cresso asked.
    Special. Ha. He meant when did she realize she was a freak. “It was in second or third grade science class that I learned other