Page 12 of Wolves in Lust

“Exile is the worst thing for a werewolf.”

“I know that,” she snapped.

“I’ve been there,” he said quietly.

She halted and stared at him before hurrying along again.

“I was exiled for almost a decade. My pack abandoned me.”

“Why?” Misti wouldn’t look at him, but he watched her as they walked. Moonlight haloed around her, giving her an ethereal air. She was breathtaking, and the raw edginess just below the surface made her even more of a sight to see.

“Why doesn’t matter.”

She made a scoffing sound.

“Fine.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I disobeyed my father.”

Misti’s body jerked slightly.

“He wanted me to—”

“I don’t need to know the details.”

He touched her shoulder. She whirled on him. The sight of tears in her eyes had him wanting to protect her. Anders cupped her cheek and gently kissed her. She responded after a long moment, and he stepped back so she wouldn’t feel how hard he was already.

Gently, he brushed her soft hair from her shoulder and kissed her neck. His fingers trickled by his lips on her skin, and he converted his hand into his wolf’s paw.

“No.” She forcefully shoved him back, her eyes wild and wicked and furious. “You mean to claim me?” Her teeth changed into fangs. “You said I was in danger. You were sent first, weren’t you? You’re supposed to kill me!” Her words were slightly hard to understand, and he wished she’d howled instead.

“Claiming you is the only way to keep you safe,” he countered.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Anders—”

“And I certainly don’t need your protection.”

Her growl was all the warning he had. In an instant, the beautiful, sexy woman was transformed into a snarling wolf that launched straight for him.

9

Almost before she realized what she was doing, Misti had shifted and was attacking him. This wasn’t a mere snapping attack. This wasn’t just an aggressive bull-like rush toward him. No, she darted forward, swatting at his head—he, too, had changed form by now—and her teeth snapping at his ear. Her fangs connected, and she twisted her head from side to side.

Anders ripped himself free and circled her warily. He was a fool for not attacking her back. A few drops of blood oozed from his ear. The stench made her want to howl, but the sight also churned her stomach. It wasn’t as if Anders was the first wolf she had ever attacked. In fact, just last year, she had killed a Shadowed Star herself. She’d been on guard duty around the perimeter of their domain, and when she saw the mangy beast, she had not hesitated to kill him.

But Anders, the only werewolf who had known her body, she found herself not wanting to kill him. Harm and maim, yes. Annihilate? No.

Such weakness. How could Misti live with herself after what she had done? Betraying her people. She was despicable, contemptible, a disgrace.

Rage filled her, geared toward herself, but she unleashed it all on Anders. She would bring him down. She would pin him. She would expose his throat and then decide whether or not to rip it out.

The first two swipes of her claws, he deflected away, but on the third, he shoved her paw down and then pinned it there with his claws. His eyes were a dark amber, and they glowed in the darkness. It almost seemed as if he was trying to see through her, into her.

It unnerved her so much she headbutted him, only he was too quick, or her too slow, and he moved his head and neck in such a way that she more or less nuzzled him. A rush of warmth flooded her body, and she stilled. Her wolf both wanted to kill him and to offer him her rump. How in the world could she be so conflicted over a man, a wolf, she hardly knew? A werewolf she had no business wanting to get to know. A werewolf she should have killed already.

Anders whined in her ear, the sound tugging at something deep inside of her. The call of the lonely. He understood the kind of life she must live now. While his exile had not been self-imposed, hers would not be any easier. At least she knew to suspect her family would tail her. He had thought himself free for a long while.

Only to be called back in to kill me. My death would initiate complete war between the two packs.

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