Rhyannon Byrd - Last Wolf Hunting

The way he looked at her made Jillian feel as if he could see right into her, all her secrets exposed before him, laid out in a shocking display of intimacy. He was waiting. Waiting for a sign, for the briefest glimpse of weakness or a crack in her armor. Slips she couldn’t afford to make, not when her very soul was on the line.

She knew she needed to keep her focus…but it was happening again. She couldn’t think when too close to this man, not when she kept getting tripped up in the details. Everything about him pulled her in, controlled her like the most hypnotic of drugs. Like smooth, thick syrup, he invaded her mind, slowing down time, until she was caught. Trapped. Held prisoner by a need to reach out and learn, firsthand, if he was as warm and hard as he looked. As silken and rugged and coarse.

“You want me, Jillian. Lie about everything else, but don’t try to lie to me about this. I can feel it,” he argued in a gritty whisper, his voice hitting her like the warm spill of fine wine into her blood, making her limbs feel heavy, her heartbeat swift and deep and pounding. “I can see it written on your face. See it in the pulse of your throat. The tight little tips of your breasts. I can tell by the warm, sweet scent of need pouring off you.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?” She hated that her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears. “You don’t really want me. You despise me, Jeremy.”

“Sure I do.” He laughed, the warm sound dark and wicked and rich, and he smiled just a little at her. “I’ve been angry at you for years, Jillian, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I still want to rip your clothes off and go at you right here.” He slammed one wide palm against the thick trunk behind her. “Just press your back against this pine, hold your sweet little ass in my hands and get a taste of what you were always too afraid to let me near before.”

Her chin trembled as she said, “I was never afraid of you,” even while her conscience screamed, Liar! She’d been afraid of making herself vulnerable to him—of discovering that he didn’t love her the way she’d loved him. Afraid of him breaking her heart. Afraid of choosing him over what was expected of her. Afraid of standing up to her parents and the League and making her own decisions, controlling her own destiny.

“Do us both a favor and stop wasting our time with lies,” he said sharply, “because you never were any good at it. You’re even worse now.”

She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say, the words lodging in her throat until it felt as if she’d choke on them.

Jeremy pressed closer, a dark, dangerous force that made something hot and tight and achy unfurl in her belly, a warm glow of sensation slowly spreading like liquid heat through her veins. “Just out of curiosity, who was it that came to you with that story about me and Danna? One of your so-called friends? The same ones who used to hit on me every time you weren’t looking? I never touched them, but that didn’t stop them from offering what I didn’t want.”

“No. It wasn’t—”

“Forget it,” he muttered, moving away from her. “What the hell does it matter now? What’s done is done. I don’t need your trust anymore. Don’t need it, and don’t want it. But I’ll take what I didn’t get before.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around her body, struggling to hold herself together. “You’re out of your mind, Jeremy.”

He laughed, just staring at her, the look in his hazel eyes too piercing and beautiful to hold. Even in a rage, he called to her, that brutal, intense energy reaching out, grabbing at her. “So Mason is always telling me.”

“Then maybe you should listen to him!”

“Maybe I should,” he murmured, staring intently at her mouth, a provocative glint in his smoky eyes that made her shiver.

“At any rate—” he sighed, sounding drained but focused “—I’m home and I’m here for a reason. You know that, Jillian. I know you want what’s best for your wolves, and you’re too connected with the Silvercrest not to realize that something bad is coming. The pack is going to crumble from within if the one responsible isn’t stopped. I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she argued in a trembling rush, knowing very well it was a lie. She loved her wolves, but she also accepted that a select few were capable of bringing down the entire pack, their narrow, close-minded, inherently hateful view of the world threatening to choke off life for the rest, like a blood clot slowly working its way to the brain. Once it struck, the effects would be terminal…and the Silvercrest would be lost.

She knew Jeremy’s words rang of truth, but self-preservation demanded she argue. It was the only sane thing to do! She couldn’t work beside him, no matter how tempting it would be to have his broad shoulder to lean on and his keen intellect to offer guidance. Facts were facts, and she knew her limitations. If she were forced to be near him, she would give in, fall victim to the wild, raging rush of pleasure that called their bodies to one another…and in doing so, hand him the power to destroy her.

It was times like this when she actually hated being a witch, hated the limitations it put on her life. “I appreciate the offer, but I can handle this on my own.”

“Like hell you can.”

Her chin lifted, driven high by pride. “The League can offer me guidance.”

His eyes darkened as he moved back into her personal space, the brackets around his mouth tight with frustration, his voice low, full of gravel and bite. “If we’re going to make this work, we have to get past our history and try to trust one another. Your precious League isn’t going to be able to help with this one, which is why I’m going to tell you something that no one but the Runners and Dylan know. The rogues who were following Simmons knew how to dayshift.”

Jillian blinked, swallowing against the lump of surprise in her throat. “Th-that’s impossible. I heard rumors, but I thought it was just panic talking.”

His right hand lifted, rubbing at the pale scars on the side of his throat, gifts from a run-in with the rogue wolves. “Trust me, it’s true. Simmons taught them how…and someone taught him. We learned from Robert that it’s a power held by—”

“Those who serve on the League of Elders,” she cut in, her voice hollow with fear. Anthony Simmons was the rogue Lycan that Jeremy’s partner, Mason, had defeated in a fight to the death just days before. Obviously Robert Dillinger, Mason’s father and a Lycan who had been denounced from the League itself when he took a human wife, had shared what he knew with the Runners—that only those who served on the League possessed the ability to teach another how to dayshift.

“I know about it,” she admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I was told about dayshifting when I formally accepted my position, after my mother stepped down. It’s a defense mechanism—a weapon of war, meant to be used in the event our way of life is threatened. To teach it to a rogue would be punishable by death, their only intent to make it easy for the rogues to kill humans. And their own kind. It even masks their scent, so that they’re impossible to track.”

Jeremy nodded, his expression bleak. “Yeah. You getting the picture?”

She shook her head, unable to get her mind around it. “You think we have a traitor on the Silvercrest League? That one of the Elders has turned and…what? That they want to turn our wolves rogue and set them free on the humans and the Bloodrunners? For what purpose?”

“We’re still working on that,” he murmured, and she could tell there was more he wasn’t telling her. Apparently his exchange of trust only went so far. “But no matter what their motive, you’re in over your head here and you need me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”