His shoulders shifted, jaw working as he stared at the butter-yellow sun sitting low on the horizon. Finally, he said, “I don’t know how you could have been married to us both—me and the pack.”
Despite the fact he was only voicing her own thoughts, Jillian felt a flare of frustration at his words. “Is there never any middle ground with you, Jeremy?”
The sensuous line of his mouth curved in a wry smile as he glanced her way. “Not where you were concerned. But then you didn’t have any middle ground, either. Did you, Jillian?”
She wanted to disagree, but he was right. She’d been so immature, expecting him to make all the sacrifices, and tensions had been so strong between him and the pack. He’d already begun training to become a Bloodrunner and his days in Shadow Peak had been numbered.
Had she jumped at the chance to rid herself of an uncomfortable situation? Because she’d been a coward?
And if so, had anything changed?
No, she admitted, because she was still afraid. Terrified, actually, of having sex with him and making herself so vulnerable. Of allowing him to see in to her heart and know just how much he meant to her.
Like it or not, she couldn’t get over the fear that he would take that love and use it to destroy her. Not in an evil way, no. Just by being himself. Jillian knew he didn’t love her, and without that bond, her own emotions wouldn’t be enough to hold him. All it would take was one woman—one slip—and her heart would be crushed.
And what of the pack? Even though he was home now, Jillian understood that it was only temporary. He’d be back in the Alley as soon as he could, once again avoiding the town and the pack, and what then? Jeremy wouldn’t want her involved with the Lycans any more than the Silvercrest would tolerate their Spirit Walker living in the Alley with a Bloodrunner.
No, she couldn’t take the risk. No matter how badly she wanted to.
Frustrated with the entire situation, she shook her head, saying, “I may have had unrealistic expectations, but I was young.”
“That you were.” He sighed, sounding tired. He squinted toward the setting sun again, the brilliant spectrum of colors painting his hair and face in an ethereal glow that made him look like some primeval creature escaped from the forest. “But even now, your life is still tied to them.”
She wanted to argue, but he was right.
They turned at the next corner, and the town hall loomed in the distance like a symbol of everything that stood between them. “We probably shouldn’t head in together,” he rumbled, motioning for her to go on ahead. “I’ll come in after a minute or two.”
Jillian wanted to tell him that she didn’t care what people thought, but she knew everyone would be waiting for the opportunity to set the gossip wheel rolling. “I’ll wait for you afterward,” she said huskily, and not looking at him, Jillian headed toward the steps.
* * *
The instant Jeremy walked into the rally, Jillian could feel the energy in the room crank higher.
As if he didn’t notice the rabid attention of the townspeople focused on his tall form, he took up position by the wide double doors, propping his shoulder against the wall, his heavily muscled arms crossed casually over his chest. It was a relaxed pose, but the way he immediately found her, watching her from beneath his lashes, made her breathless. The intensity of his stare made her feel exposed, as if he could see all her secrets.
Did he know how close she was to giving in? How badly she wanted to?
God, she hoped not.
Graham had motioned her toward the stage when she’d come in, but Jillian had refused to take a seat beside the Elders, choosing instead to remain on the small stairs that led up the side of the raised platform. She’d wanted to be able to see Jeremy when he came in, but now she tore her gaze away from his unsettling stare and looked out over the crowd, stopping suddenly when she spotted Elise standing in the back corner.
Even with the length of the room between them, Jillian could read her friend’s troubled expression. She made a move to head toward her, but Elise shook her head, a shuddered look of warning firing out of her deep blue eyes. Frowning, Jillian wondered what was going on, when she realized Elise’s reaction had been noted by a group of middle-aged women standing close by. They were gossiping about Jeremy and Elise supposedly having a late-morning tryst in her office that day, their painful words reaching Jillian’s ears as they raised their voices to be heard over the others, while everyone waited for Drake himself to take the podium.
Leaning heavily against the wall, Jillian felt her stomach go hollow, while her pulse began to roar in her ears like a great, monstrous freight train speeding down the tracks. There had to be some explanation, but she couldn’t stop the decade-old scene from playing through her mind. As if it’d happened only yesterday, she could hear that deep, trusting voice as it said, “I saw it with my own eyes, Jillian. He was with Danna, and the embrace was hardly a platonic one. We tried to warn you, but you just wouldn’t listen.”
She wanted to argue with herself that Elise was her friend, but she knew more than anyone how hard it was to resist Jeremy. And suddenly she knew that she had to get out of there. Shaking, she rushed down the stairs, struggling to make her way through the crowd as the noise level reached deafening proportions. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Drake had finally taken the stage, his eyes burning with maniacal hatred as he began speaking into the microphone. He wasted no time, but went straight to the heart of his argument, raging over the dangers that human society posed to the Lycan way of life.
“We are forced to their limits and restrictions, like dogs being collared by their owners! How long are we going to live in fear, hiding what we really are? How long will our way of life here in our sleepy little town survive while we allow them to control our existence?”
A round of applause went up from the room, only making the sick feeling in her stomach intensify as Jillian wondered just how many of the pack members actually believed his nonsense, and how many were simply caught up in the mob mentality of the moment. While she struggled to make her way toward the exit, Drake continued to incite the crowd, referring to what he called “Bloodrunner Propaganda,” claiming that Anthony Simmons had been framed by the Runners to further their own conspiracy theory that rogue Lycans were growing in numbers.
Just as she reached the door, Jillian felt a hand close around her elbow. Lifting her gaze, she found Jeremy watching her with a questioning expression. “I’ve heard enough,” she mouthed, unable to scream loud enough to be heard over the crowd.
Drawing his brows together with an unspoken question, he gave her a sharp nod, then pushed open the door and followed her into the comforting silence of the night.
Chapter 9
The metallic sound of pans banging together in her kitchen pulled Jillian from a restless, exhausting sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she stretched to a drowsy wakefulness, a deep breath of air allowing her heightened senses to identify the source of the god-awful racket.
Jeremy.
Snuggling deeper into her pillow, she thought about the conversation they’d had the night before. They’d walked home beneath an oppressive veil of silence, but when she’d opened her front door and he’d followed her inside, she’d heard herself say, “There was talk tonight at the meeting. About you and Elise.”
He’d slanted her a hard look, knowing from her tone what the talk had been. “It wasn’t like that, Jillian.”
She’d shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, and a coarse sound of frustration had rumbled deep in his throat. “I’d ask you to trust me, but we both know that isn’t going to happen, don’t we?”
Her voice had come as little more than a whisper. “That’s not true.”
“Like hell it isn’t.” His tone had been grim, belligerent. Then he’d sighed, running one hand back through his hair. “Jesus, Jillian. Give me more credit than that. If I wanted to screw Elise, I’d hardly go waltzing into her real estate office in the middle of the morning, for everyo
ne to see.”
“Then why were you there?”
“For the same reason I’ve come back to the pack. I’m here to find answers, and Drake is at the top of my list, just like I told you. I figured Elise was as good a place to start as any.”
“And will you question Eric, too?”
His mouth had thinned. “Eventually.”
“Did you learn anything from Elise?”
“Only that she’s terrified of her father,” he’d admitted with a scowl.
“He’s not…very kind to her,” she’d told him, “which isn’t hard to believe, considering he’s not only racist, but misogynistic, as well. He calls her weak, because she’s refused to shift ever since her attack.”
The dark spill of anger and surprise spreading over his features had been genuine. “What attack?”
“Elise was raped by a group of wolves. It happened three years ago, and she almost died.”
Jeremy had stared at her, his look so intense, she’d felt as if he were peering in to her soul. “You healed her, didn’t you?” he’d finally rasped. “That’s how the two of you became friends.”
She’d nodded, and he’d asked, “Why weren’t the Runners told about the attack?”
“It was considered best handled in-house, but Sheffield botched the investigation from beginning to end.”
“Why the hell didn’t Eric do anything about it?”
“He tried, but Eli, their older brother, made Eric promise to let him handle it on his own. Eli was able to track down and kill one of them, but it was without the League’s permission and that’s why he was banished from the pack.”
For a moment, he’d just stared at her, his eyes dark and bright all at once, his gaze moving slowly over her features, one by one, until he’d quietly said, “When you healed her, did you…”
She’d nodded, shivering with the memory. “Yes, I saw it in her mind. But I couldn’t tell who they were.”
He’d cursed hotly under his breath at her admission, pacing from one side of her living room to the other. Then they’d argued over her safety. He’d wanted to stay, even if it meant sleeping on her sofa, but she’d been adamant about him going home. He’d been furious, but he’d finally left, and she’d tried to get some sleep.
Not that it had worked worth a damn.
Blearily, she pulled on her robe and scuffled out of her bedroom, following the thick, enticing aroma of coffee. “Am I still sleeping?” she asked in a throaty rasp when she stood in the kitchen archway. “Because I don’t remember inviting you in.”
He sent her a cautious grin over his broad shoulder, the long, ropey muscles in his arms flexing as he moved a frying pan to one of the back burners, the cotton of his T-shirt clinging to the mouthwatering line of muscles down his back. “That’s probably because I don’t remember asking. Yesterday, I helped myself to the spare house key you keep on that little hook by your phone over there,” he told her, nodding toward the white phone mounted on her kitchen wall.
Sure enough, her spare key was missing.
Too tired to get angry, Jillian settled herself into one of the white kitchen chairs at her small table, propping the side of her face up on her hand. Enjoying the fine view of his tight backside wrapped up in soft denim, she gave a loud, jaw-cracking yawn that had those broad shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, while the early morning sunlight slanting through the blinds set his golden head alight, turning his blond hair the warm, gleaming color of honey.
“Don’t you know?” she mumbled around the edges of another yawn.
“Wouldn’t have a clue,” he remarked easily, bending to pull something out of the oven. “I left you, remember? Just like you wanted.”
Softly, she said, “I won’t be spied on, Jeremy.”
He paused in the act of taking down a coffee cup, having obviously already familiarized himself with her cupboards, and muttered a low curse under his breath. “How did you know?”
“That you were watching my house last night? I just…felt you. The sensation was so strong that it pulled me out of sleep. When I peeked around my curtains in the living room, I saw your truck parked out on the street.”
“I went home and tried to sleep, but it wasn’t happening. So I went out for a drive, just to take a look around,” he said after a moment, moving to pour her coffee.
“Right,” she snorted, before saying, “I lay in bed listening for you to drive away. It was hours before I fell asleep—and you were still out there.”
He blew out a rough breath. “Okay, truth?”
“That would be nice,” she replied drolly, starting when he glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring at his perfectly muscled backside. She blushed, and with a ghost of a smile, Jeremy turned back to stir cream and sugar into her coffee, then brought it to the table. She took it with a murmured thanks and lifted her gaze to his face.
“Maybe I just wanted to make sure Eric didn’t stop by for a late night tryst,” he told her in a gravelly voice. “When I was sure that he wasn’t heading over to crawl into bed with you, I took my tired butt home to my lonely bed and grabbed some z’s. Satisfied?”
She couldn’t look away from the greedy, smoldering look of hunger in his eyes, his irises glowing with a warm, swirling blend of green and gold, the way they did when his wolf was lurking beneath the surface, taking an interest in his surroundings. “You may have been jealous, but that wasn’t the only reason.”
He nodded slowly, watching her with that same predatory awareness that never failed to ramp up her heart rate. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice little more than a low, warm murmur. “That wasn’t the only reason. I was worried about you, Jillian. I wanted to make sure Dustin and his pals didn’t try to get anywhere near you, acting on Drake’s orders.”
“Thanks for telling me the truth,” she whispered, as if afraid of breaking the spell, even though she didn’t know what the spell was. She just knew that when he stared at her like that, she wanted it to last forever.
His head listed to the side as he studied her, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. “There’s been enough lying in our lives, Jillian. I don’t think we need to add to it now.”
Before she could think of what to say in response, he turned back toward the stove and started filling two plates. Minutes later, he’d nearly finished his breakfast while she was still staring down at the heaping mound of food he’d placed before her, a bemused expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he realized she hadn’t touched her breakfast. “Don’t you like it?”
Jillian shook her head, her tone one of baffled amazement. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. I mean, it smells delicious. I just…” She paused, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I’m just surprised that you can cook like this. It seems too domestic for a guy like you.”
“A guy’s gotta eat, you know.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back in his chair, giving her a warm, knowing look. “And contrary to what you seem to think about me, there’s no harem of love slaves stashed away at my cabin waiting on my beck and call.” His white teeth flashed in a slow, sexy smile. “If I want to eat, I have to make it.”
“How surprising.” Grinning, she reached for her fork and scooped up a mouthful of fluffy scrambled eggs. “And here I thought they probably ran around in little French maid outfits, with names like Fifi and Lola.”
His deep chest rumbled with laughter. “Damn, woman. You must think I’m pretty impressive, to warrant a whole harem of Fifis and Lolas.”
“Oh, I’ve never doubted your virility,” she murmured dryly, before taking a bite of toast. Had she doubted his feelings for her? Yes. His willingness to accept the importance of her job? Yes. His ability to be faithful? Oh, yeah. But never, ever had she doubted his sexuality. Jeremy Burns was one of those men who wore his potent masculinity and rugged good looks with such an easy grace, women couldn’t help but be drawn to him, herself
included.
And fighting him was only getting harder with every second she spent in his company.
“So you’ve never doubted my…uh, virility,” he drawled with a boyish grin, his hazel eyes glittering with humor. “Good to hear. And just to let you know, in case you wanted to check out my virility firsthand, I’m free for a sleepover whenever you feel up to asking me.”
She almost choked on her second bite of toast, but took a quick sip of coffee to wash it down, then sent him a narrow look. “Call me crazy, but something tells me that inviting you to a sleepover wouldn’t guarantee much sleep.”
“On the contrary,” he countered, hooking his hands behind his head, his pose one of indolent leisure, as if he had all the time in the world to sit there with nothing better to do than keep her off balance. She tried to keep her admiring gaze off the round perfection of his bulging biceps, so prominently displayed by the raised position of his arms, but knew she failed.
Arching one golden brow, his voice lowered to a deep, smoky rasp as he continued his seductive torment. “When you invite me to your bed, I’ll promise to restrain myself to a few hours at the most, and by the time I’m ready to wrap you up in my arms and snuggle under the covers, you’ll be syrupy and soft, your muscles like noodles. All those knots of tension you’ve been carrying around reduced to a state of hot, liquid bliss. You’ll sleep like a baby, Jillian, and then I’ll wake you up in the morning with my head buried between your legs. Nothing but slow, sweet torture, until you’re ready to beg for…”
His voice trailed off in a deliberate tease, and she swallowed dryly, knowing her face was cherry red. She was so turned on she was panting, her throat tight, muscles locked against the need to jump over the table and tackle him to the kitchen floor. “B-beg for what?” she heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like hers ask, while her body temperature spiked, her robe too warm and heavy against her skin.
Jeremy leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, eyes smoky with desire. “Uh-uh,” he whispered, grinning like the wicked bastard that he was, confident in his power over her, in his ability to wear her down until she gave in. He didn’t have to worry about making her want him—he was already sure of it. “That’s part of the magic. Part of the mystery. I’ve got to keep you guessing.”
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