Prologue: Ruining Everything

That golden-haired, shapeshifting bastard was supposed to be her target. All it took was one night to mess everything up. 

Olivia Perez felt lonely in a city she didn't know well enough to form real friendships, so she sought company at an understated bar. There she could blend into the casual environment where she stuck to the shadows in dark clothing. 

The moment a handsome man walked through the door, she was drawn to him based strictly on his confidence.

'An American accent, how charming,' she thought, as she watched the man order a drink. 'I hope to God he's not a werewolf.'

In her line of work as an agent for the Supernatural Intelligence Agency, she had seen her fair share of things no amount of drinking could make her forget. It was pathetic that she desired to find a regular human man to settle down with one day if her fast paced life ever slowed down.

She took a sip of her gin and tonic with extra lime, wondering if the dark haired man could be her company for the evening. She sighed.

However, her cleavage spilling out of her dress was enough to catch the man's attention. It was a calculated move considering the rest of what she wore was modest. 

She wasn't a stupid girl but she could act like one for the right company.

Her tolerance for alcohol was high and she was on her second gin and tonic, but she still leaned into the table in front of her as if it were hitting her hard. She brushed a hand through her dark brown, naturally curly hair, and a sensual grin spread across her face. 

Many men didn't want to save a damsel in distress, they wanted to take advantage of one. At least it was her choice.

The black haired man finally made his approach and she was pleasantly surprised to see light blue eyes piercing her. Maybe she was finally acting drunk enough to be interesting to him.

'Scumbag,' she thought of him, though her expression revealed nothing of her inner thoughts.

He was preying on a drunk girl. Yet she was going to go for it because sliding against an attractive man all evening sounded a lot better than going to her small, modern apartment alone and drinking herself to sleep while watching something trashy on television. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked smoothly, his velvety voice caressing her ears. 

She wondered what his moaning sounded like. Would it be enough to tie her over so she could save some dignity and not do that again for a while? 

"Please," she responded easily with a light laugh.

He held out a hand once he sat down, placing his whiskey on the table between them. 

"Joe," he stated his name simply. "And you are?" 

'Should I use my real name?' she wondered.

Even the name she used wasn't the name she was born with. Her life was complicated.

Olivia recalled a bottle of wine sitting on one of the shelves at her apartment and decided that name would have to do. She wasn't that imaginative but it likely wouldn't matter in a few hours.

"Francia," she responded warmly and shook his hand, sure not to put any muscle behind it. 

Men like him probably didn't enjoy strong women. Particularly not the ones who could take them down after the decade of Krav Maga under her belt. It was standard for all agents in the SIA.

"That's a beautiful name," he said. "Would you like something else to drink?" 

Olivia traced her index finger along the lip of the tumbler that held the melting ice of her last gin and tonic. A small smile pulled at her lips as she tried to make herself believably tipsy. 

"I've had enough," she lied. "If I have more, someone will have to carry me out of here." 

"You must not hold your alcohol well," he realized with a smirk. "How adorable." 

For a moment, her heart picked up speed. Something was telling her he didn't believe her. She quickly pushed the thought away. Her line of work had made her paranoid even if she didn't need to be.

They were both there for one purpose and it was clear by the way his foot brushed against the high heel she wore. His piercing, icy eyes measured her response and she lightly giggled.

After that, it was enough for her that he paid her bill. The evening would be more palatable if he could at least pretend to be a gentleman. He succeeded so far.

They didn't walk far before he led the malleable and easy to control woman into an alleyway and his lips roughly crashed into hers. He was so aggressive but she had to admit it was doing something for her. Most one night stands saw her as easy prey and weak. Maybe the evening would be more fun than she thought. 

She gasped in his mouth at the shock of being pushed against cold brick at the end of autumn. As he pulled away, he kept her full lower lip between his teeth. His smirk was mischievous as his hands went to her waist. 

"You like to be pushed around a little bit," he realized. "I have to admit I'm surprised." 

"We don't have to talk," she said, finding she liked his actions better than his words.

She decided to match his aggression and she reached for the red tie he wore with his charcoal grey suit and white button up. His lips were against hers again. 

He smelled good and clean. That was all she could ask for. 

Even if she didn't plan on seeing him ever again, her one rule was to meet these men in her apartment. She had the advantage in her own space. There were weapons under most hard surfaces. 

At first, she was only pretending to be into it. Soon she had no choice but to enjoy herself the way they walked to the high rise that contained her apartment and he kept bothering her with breathlessly aggressive kisses and possessive touches that made her heart race. She found herself truly invested in what was about to happen. 

The trail of their clothing went from her front door to her couch where she climbed on top of him and continued the kissing. He paid attention to her entire body. She thought they might do it there, but he dragged her away from the couch. 

Her floor-to-ceiling windows boasted a view of London and he pressed her against it. She was cautious but willing to see it through.

It was everything she ever wanted. 

He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it. She wasn't one to trust herself to someone but the way he knew his way around a woman's body made her guard slip. 

The way he held onto her almost felt loving. It reached a place within her that hadn't been nurtured in a long time. Rather than a one night stand, it felt like they were making love. 

His body thrust into her a final time and she was completely spent after the workout he gave her. 

Olivia considered asking him to stay over or if they could remain in touch until she heard a voice she recognized, but it wasn't the voice of the man she brought to her apartment.

She didn't see 'Joe's' eyes change to red and his hair change to golden locks that went down to his mid back. Her eyes focused and she saw who he truly was in the window's reflection.

"You fucked up, Olivia," he said, holding her wrists behind her

His eyes met hers in the reflection and a devilish smirk pulled at his lips.

He had no plans to let her go even though she was grappling to get away. One trait of the shapeshifters was their strength. It had to match whoever they were imitating. 

"It can't be," she gasped, struggling to break her arms free. 

It should have been an easy hold to get out of. All the training she went through to escape certain situations wasn't paying off at that moment. She was caught off guard and not emotionally sharp. He had worked her to her limit and rendered her strength useless since there was no energy behind it.

From pleasure to horror. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. 

"Ian," she said his name with such horror that his elation only grew. 

"Yes," he gasped and bit her shoulder. "Say my name again."