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 to 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.