Kait Ballenger: Twilight Hunter

“I do mean it.” She gulped as if she were trying to find the strength to speak. “I can never love you, Jace. You betrayed me.”

His jaw dropped. “Betrayed you? How did I ever betray you?” He stepped toward her.

She shoved him hard until he stumbled back. She was ready for a fight. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re a Skinwalker and a werewolf hunter.”

“You say it like I had a choice in the matter.”

“A Skinwalker killed my parents! And based on that symbol, Robert’s a Skinwalker, too. He’s been murdering women and raping them afterward. Your name was carved onto two of the bodies. And you expect me to think all that is coincidence? That you’re not involved somehow? I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but you can’t possibly expect me to believe you’re on my side. You’ve murdered my kind for years, possibly even my parents, and now you might have been a part of murdering those women, too.”

Heat rushed to Jace’s face, and before he knew what he was doing, his fist collided with the wall. Fighting back his anger, it took everything he had not to yell, not to tell her how ridiculous she was being. “You really think I’m a murderer? That I’m capable of that kind of sick, perverted evil?”

She stared at the floor.

“Look at me.”

She didn’t.

He slammed his fist into the wall again. “Damn it, Frankie, look at me. I deserve that much.”

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, tears still pouring down her perfect face.

He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “If you mean it, tell me you don’t want me here. Tell me to leave and I will.”

Her lower lip quivered. She stared at him for several long moments before she brushed his hand away. “I can’t trust you. I—I don’t want you here, Jace.”

His stomach rolled. “Fine.”

He walked to the door and paused as he grabbed hold of the knob. “I’ll find Allsún on my own.” Without another word, he left, leaving the door open. He charged down the stairs and rushed out to the cold city streets.

Betrayal? Fucking betrayal? If there were two things in life he prided himself on, they were being honest and being loyal. He could be one nasty bastard sometimes, but he would at least give himself that much credit.

He continued down the block to his car, his leather coat wrapped tight around him and his hand itching to grab hold of his flask. His thoughts raced.

She doesn’t love me.

A sharp pain stabbed his heart. He wasn’t sure what to think.

Do I want her to love me?

He shoved the thought aside. He was pathetic. The fact that he’d imagined for even two seconds that he could find happiness in his life was fucking laughable. He was a damn fool. Everything he’d thought he’d known that morning had been thrown out the window, into the street and ran over by a hundred fully loaded semis.

He wasn’t a werewolf at all. His whole career of hunting werewolves, the creatures that reminded him so much of his no-good, deadbeat father, was a lie. A Skinwalker? A Berserker? What did that even mean in any real sense? And now Frankie didn’t even love him.

Hopes and dreams crushed flat, every one of them.

He turned and stared back at her apartment complex. Damn it. He was kidding himself if he thought he could walk out on her. He stared unseeingly out the windshield. What the hell did he have to lose? She already hated him. And really, he couldn’t blame her.

FRANKIE SLAMMED THE door behind Jace, and the resounding bang shuddered through her small apartment. She stood, panting in fury, eyes fixed on the doorway where he’d been standing only moments before. The sting of betrayal stabbed at her heart, and her blood boiled so hot she felt steam could fly out her ears. Damn him for leading her on. Damn him for sleeping with her when he didn’t care. Damn him for making her fall in...

Love.

Her emotions ran the gamut as her anger simmered down to a wrenching sadness.

She leaned back against the door frame and slid down it until she reached the floor. Letting out a loud sob, she buried her face in her hands. How could he? She would never understand how someone she loved could be so manipulative. So cruel. She could feel her heart breaking.

He lied to me.

The thought of the pained look in his eyes when he stormed out clouded her thoughts. She couldn’t get it out of her head. Damn, he was good. Even when she knew the truth, knew he had to be involved in some way, all he had to do was look at her with those gorgeous emerald eyes and she wanted to cave in to him instantly, wanted to believe everything he said.

A large fist pounded against the door, and a jolt ran down her spine.

Jace.

Her stomach dropped, and she tried to stop herself from hyperventilating. She needed to stand up for herself.

Like hell I’m going to let him get away with treating me like dirt. I’m better than this.

Pushing herself off the ground, she stood.

“You know what, Jace, you just need to—” She wrenched open the door and stumbled back.

Before she knew what was happening, Robert came at her full force. He pinned her against the wall and held his knife against her throat. The blade cut into her skin, and a thin line of blood trickled down her collarbone.

Robert sneered. “Nice to see you again, packmaster.” He spat the last word and looked down at her as if she was nothing more than a pathetic dog.

Frankie pressed herself as tight against the wall as possible and fought to slow her breathing. Calm. She needed to be calm. “What are you doing here?” She barely managed to choke out the words.

“Retrieving you. You see, I kidnapped one of your little pack members. But apparently she wasn’t important enough for you to come save her.” He grinned. “Turns out that she isn’t a werewolf at all. First time I’ve ever tortured a faerie. But I have to say, so far I’m finding it quite amusing. Who knew iron was such a useful weapon?”

“You bastard,” Frankie growled.

He leaned more weight on the blade and the cut deepened just enough to exponentially enhance her pain. “Enough with the insults, my dear. Dirty mouths aren’t appealing on women, even canine whores.” He dragged the tip of the knife down her collarbone, stopping inches away from her breasts.

She hissed from the sting. Blood gushed from the tear in her skin, and pain seared through her.

“I’d absolutely love to take my blade to that beautiful chest of yours.” He trailed the flat part of the blade over her right breast. “But we’ll save that for later.”

She glared at him, though she couldn’t fight the shivers running down her spine. “You’re a sick freak.”

With his blade safely away from her throat, she kneed him hard in the groin. He crumpled over exactly as she’d expected. She brought her elbow up and slammed it down into his spine. He toppled to the floor, but he managed to grab her ankle in the process.

He was strong, and when he pulled on her leg she slammed to the floor. She scrambled to her feet, but not before Robert regained his footing, too. He grabbed her shoulder, his knife at the ready. Spinning out of his grasp, she unleashed a roundhouse kick that hit him square in the face.

With a loud curse, he stumbled back, clutching his bloodied nose. Before he could retaliate, she punched him straight in the solar plexus. Gasping for air, he fell to his knees. Now was her chance. She bolted for the door, but before she’d run even five feet, Robert stabbed the blade of his knife through her blue jeans and into her calf.

She screamed in agony. Pain shot up her leg and radiated through her entire body, but she didn’t stop. She stumbled toward her door, moving as fast as she could. Blood gushed from her wound, leaving a crimson trail. She reached for the knob of the open door, and she used it to steady herself.