Disclaimer: This is the only one I'll do, because I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not Kelley Armstrong *sigh*, so here goes: I don't own any of the rights to the characters, other than Kaine, or the fabulous Women of the Otherworld Series. Enjoy!

Chapter One

"You've got to be shitting me!" I muttered, rather loudly, to myself, earning a couple of odd stares. It was that same creepy- yet totally hot if I was being honest- stalker who'd been following me all day. I thought I had lost him back at the last row of stalls, but I guess not.

I'm usually incredibly awesome at slipping away from people, especially in crowds. Which is why I shouldn't be having this much trouble considering I was currently standing in the middle of the annual state-wide flea market.

I mean, it's not that I'm unnoticeable- what, with my black mid-back length straight hair, large green eyes, and having an unusual six foot one inch lean body- or that I didn't want to be noticed by the insanely hot blond god behind me. But it was creepy that he'd been following me for the past six and a half hours. I had taken different paths, skipped isles, zig-zagged, and back tracked, but he was still there.

Now for the record, I'm a very straight forward, confrontational kind of gal, but for the sake of the innocent bystanders, I was refraining from confronting the jerk behind me. 'Cause not to brag, -I hate it when people do that- but I can open up a serious can of whoop-ass if I need to. I have a third degree black belt, studied seven different fighting styles and have what my instructors tell me is, "amazing strength, speed and endurance." And it's weird, because my parents and the rest of the family are the biggest couch potatoes I've ever seen. They couldn't lift a forty pound weight if their life depended on it. And according to my biology teacher, things like physical capabilities are mainly passed down through genetics.

Anywho, back to the six foot five, muscular, gorgeous creep behind me, who was as I speak barreling through a group of elderly ladies who could pass for the local knitting club. How kind of him. Note the sarcasm in the above thought. As I glanced into an old gilt framed mirror lying on the table in front of me, I see Hottie himself staring at me like I'm some sort of unknown three headed species of freak.

That's it, that asshole's going down!

I started casually making my way towards the three walled empty pavilion on the other side of the fairgrounds, knowing he would follow.

The open wall of the shelter was facing toward a thick green forest; the other sides faced the busy market behind me. I don't know if the perv thought I was gonna go cop a squat in the trees or what, but he followed me there.

Just as I stepped into the drab pavilion, I spun around on my heel.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked. There was about ten feet in between us. What, you follow me around all day and now that we're finally alone you act like I've got a disease? Up close he was even more gorgeous, he had perfectly tousled golden blond hair that flopped down to almost cover his beautiful wary blue eyes. His chiseled jaw was clenched tight and his nose was flaring (weird much?).

"Who are you?" He asked back, totally evading my question.

"Someone who could kick your ass seven different ways," I snapped. I swear I saw a flicker of amusement pass in his eyes before being replaced by suspicion once again.

"Doubtful," he muttered, almost to quiet for me to hear, "My name's Logan, now would you please tell me why your in New York?" A hint of menace entered his voice.

I inhaled angrily, and about choked on my own spit. What the hell was that smell that threatened to suffocate me? It smelled woodsy, and kinda like wet dog. It was way to overpowering for my delicate nose. I've always had a better sense of smell than anyone else, but I had never come across this before.

"Why the hell should I tell you?" I finally regained enough breath to speak.

"Because I'm Logan Danvers," he stressed the last word like it was supposed to mean something.

"And I'm Kaine Arden," I mimicked him. Even though it wasn't smart to give him my real full name, his expression was worth it. It was a mix of surprise, confusion, and mild frustration, like I wasn't getting what he was saying. I searched my memory for any recollection of the name Danvers; nope, nothing.

"Now," I began, before he could open his mouth, "I'm going to go back out there and enjoy myself. If I see you following me again, I'll open up a can of whoop-ass you'd wish you'd never bought. Understand? Good." As I stared at him for a moment longer, I saw fury and admiration replace his stoic expression. I turned away and got about fifteen feet before I felt a weight on my shoulder. I looked down to see a perfectly tanned hand, and going farther up I met a pair of ocean blue eyes that held nothing but frustration.

Oh man, he is sooo gonna get it!