Kelley Armstrong - Frostbitten

He lifted a pair of blue cotton underwear. I could smell the semen from here. He threw them down and strode past me to the door. I caught his arm. He shook me off.

"Clay, don't-"

The door banged open, hitting the wall.

"Clay-"

He was gone. I paused to get my own temper under control. Racing into the hall screaming at him wasn't going to help. When I did hurry out, the hall was empty. I could still hear the couple fighting, the woman now protesting that she hadn't been flirting, but simply trying to help the man find his friend's room-he obviously hadn't spoken good English.

Broken English? Looking for a "friend's room"? The mutts hadn't been here long ago, not if this couple was still arguing about it.

I raced into the stairwell after Clay. The door five floors below banged shut. I flew down and caught up with him outside. He stood on the sidewalk, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch the scent.

I walked up behind him.

"Don't," he growled, not turning.

Rage poured off him, his profile rock-hard, the pulse in his neck pounding.

"I'm not going to stop you," I said. "I just want to be sure you know you're walking into a trap."

His shoulders stiffened.

"They broke into our room in the middle of the day," I said. "They left Reese's fingers in my water bottle. They jerked off in our bed and in my dirty underwear. Do you think they're trying to scare you off?"

"No, they're trying to piss me off."

"As much as they possibly can. Invade and soil your territory. Insult your mate. Insult you. Then sit back and wait until you come charging after them, too enraged to see that you're walking into a trap."

He was breathing hard, condensation streaming through the cold air as he fought every instinct that insisted each moment he delayed was hesitation, a sign of weakness.

I reached to touch his back, then stopped myself.

I lowered my voice. "If you go after them now, you'll have no problem finding them. They'll have laid a clear trail leading straight to the perfect ambush spot."

He said nothing.

"We have to pull back," I said.

He shook his head. "I can't ignore this. I need to-"

"-meet the challenge or they'll think you've lost your edge, and they'll come after me."

A curt nod, his gaze still moving along the street.

"They're giving us the best chance we've had to get to them," I said. "Or at least to get a good look at them. Do you think I'd turn that down?"

His shoulders moved, barely more than a twitch, but enough to tell me I'd made my point. I laid my hand against his back for a moment. Then we set out.

THE MUTTS HAD indeed left us a clear trail. And I didn't much like where it led. Our hotel window overlooked the northwest corner of the city, and while I'd marveled at the distant view-that thrilling triumvirate of mountain, forest and sea-the closer landscape had been less in spiring.

A couple of blocks past the hotel, the city seemed to end in a wasteland of scarred and scrubby fields crossed with train tracks and dotted with industrial buildings. A flat, open basin ran from the train station to the ocean, and this was where the mutts had gone.

When the sidewalk ended, we entered no-man's-land. The bitter wind lashed us and froze our ears until all we could hear was its howl. A faint icy drizzle rained down. The ground underfoot was slick and muddy on the surface, still frozen underneath.

"They're going to see us coming a mile away," I said.

"That's likely the idea."

"We need a plan."

"Yep, we do."

"And that's my department now, isn't it?"

He glanced over, face softening for the first time since he'd walked into our hotel room. "Yep, it is."

"Damn."

CLAY DIDN'T LIKE my plan. When I invited him to suggest an alternative, though, he just grumbled that I was the boss. In other words, the plan was fine. He just didn't like it.

West of the train station, we put on a performance for our hidden audience. Clay gestured for me to go wait inside the station. I argued that I wanted to stay with him. We bickered. He picked me up, set me down facing the station and gave me a slap on the ass, along with firm commands, including go, sit and stay. Being an obedient mate, I obeyed.

As Clay loped off to take care of those nasty mutts for me, I circled to the front of the station and took a seat on a raised monument displaying-according to the plaque-the first train engine used by Alaska Railroad. There I was, out in the open, where Clay couldn't see me-a perfect lure for the mutt. Clay would follow the trail for a while, then pretend to lose it. With him out of sight, at least one of the watching mutts was sure to break cover and come after me.

Clay hated the part about using me as bait. I had to admit that even I couldn't help thinking Gawd, not this old trick again . But it worked, again and again.

Give mutts the choice between attacking Clay and attacking Clay's mate, and they'll pick me every time. It's not only easier; it's going to hurt him more. Even if they can rise above that cowardly temptation, there's one temptation they can't fight-the siren's allure of my incredible hotness. Okay, the siren's allure of my incredibly hot bitch-in-heat scent.

I'd been sitting there only about five minutes when a man walked around the train station and headed toward me. I inhaled, but the wind was going the wrong way. He fit Reese's description, though-early thirties, big and brawny, short brown hair and a square face.

My first thought was, Oh, shit, Clay's supposed to grab him before he gets to me . My second thought was, No problem, I can take him . My third, as he got closer, was, urn, probably … And my forth, when he was near enough to smell, circled back to that initial Oh, shit . He was human.

Apparently, my incredible hotness proved alluring to more than just werewolves these days. Or Alaska had a shortage of single women.

"Hey there," he said. "You look cold sitting up there, all alone."

I smiled-civil, nothing more. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Come inside and wait. I'll buy you a coffee."

Espresso, I was sure. "Thanks, but my husband will be here in a minute."

His gaze dropped to my hand, covered in a glove. Then he studied me. Whatever look a married woman is supposed to have, apparently I lacked it, because he stepped closer.

"How about lunch? There's a great diner just up the hill. Nice and warm."

"I'm fine. Really. Where I come from, this is a pleasant spring day."

"And where's that?"

Damn, I'd walked right into that conversation-prolonger.

" Canada. Anyway, I'll just wait-Oh, hold on. My phone's vibrating."

I answered, talking to silence. "Sure, and where's that?" Pause. Laugh. "Okay, then." Pause. "Yep, I'll be right there."

As I hung up, I slid off the wall. "That was my husband. He needs me to check out something he wants to buy." I rolled my eyes. "Men."

"Where is he?" the man asked.

"Over there," I waved at a collection of buildings, a and hoped one of them was a store. Then I started out.

"Why don't I give you a lift?"

"I'm fine."

"It's a long walk."

Clay's piercing whistle cut through the howling wind. That was his signal that the mutts had taken the bait and that he needed his backup in place.

"Sorry, I really have to-" I tried stepping around the man, but he blocked me.

"I'll give you a lift."

"Thanks, but I'm fine."

Another sidestep, another block, this one moving into my personal space, making the hair on my neck bristle. I shifted back.

"I'm fine," I said, my tone taking on an edge.

"No need to get snippy. I'm just being friendly."

"And I'm just saying 'thanks, but no thanks.' "