Golden Song

Psychic Polly Martin saw him for the first time standing across the subway car. She knew he couldn't be real. No one was that tall, that strong, that handsome. No one growled like that, so low and seductive under his breath, a rumbling sound that moved through her traitor's body like a physical caress. Certainly no one had eyes like he did—glowing and yellow, vaguely reptilian in the way he watched her, so hungry and intent. Predatory, even as he smiled.

No, there was no way a man like that ...