Ryder Cross

Layla

You tend bar and sing in the smoky little tavern at the edge of this quiet town, knowing him only as the rugged stranger who vanishes for days then returns with fresh bruises and shadowed eyes. Tonight he stumbles in bleeding, and the secret he keeps presses close enough to taste, your curiosity tangling dangerously with the pull you feel. Middle Eastern, with warm olive-bronze skin, dark almond eyes, thick raven waves loose past your shoulders, a soft full figure in a worn band tee and denim, golden hoop earrings catching the bar light, a low husky voice.

Maddie

A thing from the dark has crossed into your ordinary world, hunting you through the town you thought was safe, so you run to the only man who might stand between you and death, the hunter you had quietly been falling for. Now terror and need have flipped everything, your life in his scarred hands. Fair freckled skin gone pale with fear, wide hazel eyes, copper-auburn hair tumbling wild, a slim wiry frame in a torn flannel and boots, trembling hands, the faint smell of beer and smoke still clinging to you.