“At the moment you’re not threatening to kill me, you’re just standing there.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t push my buttons. I don’t have time for your crap.” He walked to the other side of the bed. Grabbing her wrist, he cuffed her free arm to the other side.
She writhed and fought against the restraints in between breaths. “And you think I have time for this? I have a life. Unlike you, I spend my time doing constructive things rather than hunting down innocent people.”
Jace strolled over to his trench coat and dug his flask out of the pocket. “Innocent? I found you at a murder scene. Your innocence is somewhat questionable.”
“We both know I didn’t do it. I was looking for the killer,” she said. “I told you. No blood, no weapons and no male equipment.”
He meandered into the “kitchen.” “You think I don’t know that? If I thought you did it, you’d already be buried six feet under.” The Bushmills sat at the front of the cabinet. He grabbed it, poured some in the flask for later and then carried the whole bottle back to the bedroom. “You may not be the killer, but how can I trust that your goal is the same as mine?”
“My goal is the same. Why else would I have been in that alley? If you know I didn’t do it, why the hell are you holding me?”
“To get to the Rochester packmaster.”
Her eyes widened, and she blinked several times. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He took a swig from the whiskey bottle. “No, I’m not. That son of a bitch Frankie Amato has got another think coming if he thinks I’m gonna take care of business for him. Every night I’ve been patrolling, looking for the sick fuck who’s hurting these women, and are any of his men out searching? No. There should be werewolves prowling everywhere, if not to help, then at least to cover his ass. Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone in the Rochester pack is doing this.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so biased and hateful, you’d realize that Frankie is trying his best. I volunteered to search for the killer.” Her nostrils flared as she exhaled a long breath. Her anger reminded him of an animal in fight mode—powerful and stubborn.
He scoffed. “Oh, so he sends a lone female werewolf to do his work? Where are the rest of you?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to endanger his pack members.” Her full lower lip quivered and contradicted all the fire in her eyes.
“Better werewolves than innocent people.”
She froze as if he’d stabbed her in the chest. Her cheeks flushed as her shock boiled into rage. “How can you say that? We are people.”
Jace gulped more whiskey. “Infected people.”
“We’re not infected. We can’t turn anyone into—”
“Maybe not someone who’s already been born. You can’t infect them, but a fetus, you sure can. What about all those freaking babies that you harness with your curse from birth, huh?”
The image of his father haunted his mind as he spoke—his old man’s handsome features, which resembled his own, twisted and snarling with anger as he slapped Jace’s mother around. But the worst: after all the abuse the bastard had forced his mother to endure, he’d strolled out the door and left them with nothing but scarred memories and broken lives.
Jace lowered his eyes to the floor; he could still smell the summer rain mixed with the city’s scent from the night his father left.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be one of us. How do you know it’s a curse? Some think it’s a gift.” She tugged against the cuffs, her face filled with raw pain.
“How do I know?” He started to laugh and brushed his fingers through his hair. “How do I know?” He set the bottle on the ground and stalked toward her, his gaze fixated on her large, chocolate-brown eyes. She pressed closer to the headboard as he leaned onto the bed and positioned himself over her. A shiver of power shot down his spine, and he allowed the beast to take the reins. “Because it’s my curse to bear.”
She gasped as his green, human irises transitioned to golden wolf eyes and reflected in her gorgeous stare.
CHAPTER FOUR
DESIRE BILLOWED THROUGH Frankie as she stared into the hunter’s wolf eyes. This can’t be happening. He wasn’t human? Shit. The flash of gold she’d seen in his eyes earlier hadn’t just been a trick of the light. She hadn’t seen that coming. A hunter with any supernatural abilities or bloodlines was completely unheard of. How could she have anticipated the familiar pair of wolf eyes staring her in the face? And if the hunter wasn’t human, which clearly he wasn’t, then he needed to get the hell away from her before her estrus cycle hit full force. Once that happened, like it or not, they would both be more than ready to do the horizontal tango. He didn’t even know her real name—and, more importantly, she didn’t know his name, either—but if he stuck around she would be sleeping with him. She needed to get him out of there—now.
“Get away from me!” She pulled against her restraints.
He leaned in closer, his body hovering centimeters over hers. “What? Does your own infection disgust you?”
Damn it! I thought you were human! What the hell could she do to get him to stay away? This uncontrollable need to mate with the nearest Alpha male was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid earlier in the evening.
Another tsunami of heat and longing overcame her, and she arched her spine, gritting her teeth. No wonder she’d been so attracted to him, because no matter how small his werewolf heritage might be, he wasn’t completely human, and all her body needed to detect and prepare itself for an Alpha male was the slightest trace of a bloodline. Neither of them would be able to stop it. “Absolutely not, and it’s not an infection, it’s a gift. A gift that’s going to hit you like an oncoming bus if you don’t listen to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He pulled away and left her on the bed. Her skin prickled against the rush of cool air as the heat of his presence disappeared from her skin as quickly as it had come.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s the full moon, and tonight I would have been forced by my pack to choose a male to begin the mating process with. I already knew who I would be choosing, but only because my parents arranged it before their deaths to ensure that the strongest bloodlines continued. I’m not in love with him, so I ran to avoid the ceremony.”
He grabbed hold of the whiskey bottle again and raised a single brow. “And I give a shit, why?”
“Because I’m in my mating cycle. It’s my time to choose a mate, and you may not be a full werewolf, but you’re not completely human, either.”
How was he not making this connection? She watched his grip tighten around the bottle. Maybe she was getting through to him. All she could do was appeal to his sense of reason.
“I was out hunting for the killer because I was trying to escape my mating ceremony. I thought I’d have a couple hours of strength to hunt before my cycle hit full force. When you captured me, I thought you were a human, so you were immune. I thought that tomorrow, when my strength came back, I could easily take you down and escape—and, lucky me, mating ceremony avoided for one more year in the process. But when 3:00 a.m. rolls around, between the full moon, the supernatural hour and the mating call, you’re not going to be able to control yourself around me.”
“Stop feeding me bullshit.”
She tore at her handcuffs to no avail and gritted her teeth. Her anger at his ignorance skyrocketed. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? “It’s not bullshit. It’s fact. I’m a werewolf, asshole. While human, my body is also wolf—”
“Son of bitch!” he interrupted.
She knew he didn’t like what he was hearing, but he needed to know, so she ignored him and kept going. “It’s a natural estrus cycle. Once a year. It’s not like I can control it. I’ve been taking extended vacations around this time since I was fourteen.”
He swore again. “So what? It’s just my fucking luck you decided to stick around this year?”
Her eyes hardened. “I told you t
o let me go. You still can.”
He frowned. “Look, I don’t care what you think you know about me just because I’m a half-breed, all right? The truth is you don’t know a damn thing. I’ve never once acted like one of you animals my whole damn life and I’m not starting now.” He turned away.
She wrenched against her restraints, and the wood of the bed frame groaned beneath her strength. “On the night of the full moon, do you feel its pull, like something living is crawling underneath your skin, threatening to burst out?”
He froze.
“I bet you get the same feeling when you’re angry. You constantly fight to control your emotions and hide your identity from the other hunters. When you’re hunting and you smell a female werewolf, it turns you on more than a human woman ever could, doesn’t it, and you hate yourself all the more for it.”
He remained silent, his body language speaking volumes. The muscles in his back flexed, and rage radiated off him like a nuclear bomb.
“And right now I’m making you angry,” she said, pushing him to his limits. “Because every mention of your true nature pisses you off. You’d rather loathe yourself your entire life than embrace what you really are. You’ve probably never even shifted.”
Silence answered her, as powerful and forceful as if he’d screamed.
He needs to know this, she reassured herself.
“How can you hunt your own kind?” A pang of sadness hit her in the chest. A part of her felt sorry for him because she was challenging all his preconceived notions about himself.
“I’m not one of you.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she bit her lower lip. This wasn’t happening. “You are.”
He spun to face her, his face flushed and his hands clenched into fists. “I am nothing like him!” he roared.
Frankie jerked against the headboard as his eyes flashed wolf-gold again. A young, untamed and angered wolf, even a half-breed, was impossible to control, and she didn’t even have hands to fight with.
He knocked over a nearby table, which crashed to the floor, one of its legs splintering. “I would never abuse my wife because I couldn’t deal with my own nature and the anger that comes with it. I would never walk out on my family because of some fucking mating call, and I would never kill an innocent human being.”
Walking to the bedside, he stared her square in the face, and Frankie saw the resolve in his gaze.
“I’m nothing like you.”
He was so close to her that she could feel the heat pulsating from his body. Clenching her thighs together, she tried to ignore her undeniable need. She inhaled a sharp breath, balling up her courage. “You can’t hide from the truth forever.”
He broke eye contact and stalked into the kitchen, grabbing the whiskey as he went.
“And for future reference...we’re not all monsters,” she called after him. “I had a family once, and I never would have betrayed them.”
He continued walking toward the front door. He pulled out the key, turned it, then opened the door and stood clutching the knob.
“Even if you don’t believe me, at least tell me your name.” Since we’re going to be together tonight. Her stomach churned with nerves.
“McCannon. My name’s Jace McCannon,” he said, before he slammed the door shut behind him.
* * *
JACE CHARGED THROUGH the hallway, bounded down the stairs and bolted into the street. The cold winter air slapped him in the face, sending a deep chill through his bones. What the hell was he going to do? What if she was telling the truth?
Shit.
He paced back and forth in front of the building, his massive combat boots thumping against the ground and his heart pounding right along with them. He’d never been so on edge in his life.
He glanced up at the sky. The moon was shining down on him, and a sharp heat prickled beneath his skin. Damn it, how did she know all those things about him?
Because you’re one of them, his mind taunted.
He pounded his fist on the hood of the Hummer, leaving a large dent. The car’s alarm sounded, piercing his ears with its high-pitched noise.
“Damn.” The alarm drowned out his curse. He considered walking back upstairs to get the key, but he couldn’t go back up there. Not, for the sake of his own sanity, just yet. He would have to wait for the alarm to shut off on its own. He clutched his hair, feeling the need to rip it from his skull—something, anything, to bring him back to reality.
Reality? He laughed. He hunted werewolves for a living. The real world was harsh. In true reality, evil consumed, and he was longing for ignorance. He stared down the street and saw a young couple entering another apartment building. They shot irritated glances his way as the car continued flashing and screeching. What would it be like to be them? To be clueless about the supernatural scum blending in with society? Jace stood there for several minutes until the alarm finally gave up and shut off.
Just when he thought he might have a moment of peace his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out without looking at the screen and held it to his ear. “What?”
“Uh...hi, Jace.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“It’s Shane.”
He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Just great. If there was one thing that always made him feel like even more of an ass, it was being pissy with Shane. It was like kicking a damn puppy.
“Sorry, kid. I’m having a rough night. What can I do you for?”
“David and I are at the crime scene right now.”
Jace waited for him to keep going, but only silence came from the other end of the line. “And you’re calling to tell me...what?” He glanced down. An ant crept across a crack in the sidewalk. He ground his boot into the pavement and squashed it.
“David wanted me to let you know...”
Jace tapped his foot, his patience already running short. “Spit it out.”
“We think there is evidence that’s suggestive of demonic or cult activity,” Shane said in a cautious voice. The kid exhaled a slow, heavy breath into the phone, as if he anticipated Jace ripping him a new one.
Jace stayed silent, processing what Shane had said. “Kid, you care to tell me why that is, when it’s clear that only an animal is capable of creating that much carnage with its teeth?”
He heard Shane inhale deeply, gearing himself up for a long-ass speech. “The hearts have been removed. You see, the heart is a symbolic organ and—”
Jace’s grip on the phone tightened until he thought it might break. “Get to the point.” He stared at the apartment building. She was up there, lying on his bed. Naked. The thought of Princess’s smooth, caramel skin made his mouth water, and he saw himself running his tongue along her hot, pink slit.
Man, he was a sick freak.
Shane’s voice snapped him from his thoughts like a broken rubber band. “—it’s actually used in many demonic and satanic rituals, so the removal suggests motive.”
The anger that had already settled inside Jace’s chest boiled. “David put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Um...”
“He thought I wouldn’t be angry if you called, huh? Let me talk to him.”
“He said—”
“Put him on the damn phone, Shane.”
A rustling noise crackled through the receiver before Jace heard David’s deep voice. “Listen, J. I th—”
“No, you listen. Did you look at that poor girl’s body? Something ripped her to pieces, and you can’t tell me a human is responsible.” He jabbed his finger in midair, then dropped it, remembering David couldn’t see his anger.
“I believe you, J. But some demons can shape-shift into animals, and—”
Jace slapped his palm into his forehead. “Is the kid near you? Can he hear me?”
“If you keep on screaming, yeah.”
“Then walk away for a minute.” He heard David take a few steps. “I told you I got the scent from it. So you wanna tell me how the hell I’m wrong?”
he whispered.
“Damon said if there were any signs of demonic or cult activity to let him know. I thought you’d want to know, too. We’ve got to keep our options open.”
“Screw Damon.” Jace clenched his jaw and battled to hold a string of profanities inside.
“I’m following orders, man. I’m not saying you’re wrong. Damon’s just trying to get this solved, and getting to piss you off in the meantime is just a bonus for him.”
Jace paused. The vein in his temple throbbed. “What are you talking about?”
David sighed. “He’s placing everyone else on the case, J. One more strike and he’s taking you off as lead hunter.”
“No, no, no. Vote to overturn that shit and problem solved.” Jace shook his head. This was the last thing he needed.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“If I challenge Damon, from here on out he’ll start giving me the same crap he dishes out to you. I can’t have that. At least one of us has to be in his good graces,” David said.
“So you’re hanging me out to dry, then?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Doesn’t need to be said. Message heard loud and clear.” Jace jabbed the off button and considered chucking the device into the middle of the street.
Shoving the phone back in his pocket instead, he exhaled a long breath. The chilly February weather transformed his breath into something visible, and he imagined his body steaming with rage like the smoke stack of an old train. Everything was peachy—just fucking peachy.
* * *
“DAMN. THAT SON OF a bitch hung up on me.” David shoved his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket and frowned. Jace was one hell of a hunter and a good guy, but man, did he have the temper of an angry bull on steroids. And David had just taken a cattle prod to the bull’s ass.
Shane stood from where he knelt by the body and cleared his throat. “Jace has had it rough lately.”
David shook his head. With Damon harping on Jace’s every move and the massive blows his self-esteem had been taking from not being able to catch the damn killer, rough was a massive understatement. “You don’t need to preach to me about it. I cut him more slack than anyone.”
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