Page 44 of Wolf Promise

Bolt knew her true nature.

She only knew how to destroy and kill. She was evil.

Grandfather opened the backseat door for her, and she stepped closer to the car. “You can leave us now,” she told Bolt without looking at him. “Someone else can meet me at Lofn.”

“I’d prefer to ride in the car with you,” he said. “I’m contractually obligated to protect you.”

Contractually obligated. She wanted to both laugh and cry. All those sweet words he’d said yesterday meant nothing. “Fine,” she said and scooted over.

Bolt slid in, and she leaned toward the opposite side so she wouldn’t touch him. The dark tendrils of power kept reaching for him.

Regie closed her eyes and clamped down hard on the little control she had on the blackness inside her. No matter what Bolt felt for her now—hate and the disgust she’d earlier seen in his eyes probably—she didn’t want to hurt him. If she could just get to Lofn, then she could isolate herself in her office until the darkness subsided. Or until Laney could help her.

“Can you call Laney and tell her to meet us at Lofn?” she asked Bolt.

He nodded without looking at her.

Grandfather moved as if to close the door, but instead, leaned in with a raised hand. Something metallic glittered in his grip, and he slammed it into Bolt’s neck.

At the same time, the door on Regie’s side opened. An arm reached in, and before she could react, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.

Her vision blurred, and then everything faded to black.

Regie woke up in her old bedroom at Grandfather’s house. Her head pounded worse than the one hangover she’d experienced in college. She’d never gotten intoxicated again. Not because of her achy head, but because she could never risk losing control. After she’d almost killed the man in the parking lot by the trail, she had never allowed the black tendrils of power out again.

She turned her head and found Bolt sitting in a chair beside her bed, staring at her as if she were the foulest thing he’d ever seen.

So much for the truth of the chemistry between them. She should have known better than to trust his pretty words. Nobody could love a creature as foul as her.

“What are you?” he growled. “How did you keep your scent cloaked from me?”

Regie considered playing dumb and pretend she didn’t know what he referred to, but it seemed a waste of time. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “Laney says I’m something like what she is, but I don’t really understand it.”

He tilted his head, the gesture oddly animal-like. His wolf must be close to the surface. “You don’t know how you prevented me from detecting your magic?”

He really didn’t get it. A hysteric giggle bubbled up in her throat, threatening to escape. She swallowed hard to keep it trapped. “I don’t know any of it. I don’t know what you mean when you ask how I hide this.” She sounded oddly defensive, but that’s how she felt. Defensive and hopeless. “Maybe you can explain it to me?”

He snorted. “There is no rhyme or reason to the evils of witchcraft. I would be the last person able to explain it.”

All of a sudden, Regie had had enough. Enough of feeling bad for this evil thing inside her that she’d never asked for. Enough of having feelings for a man who said he felt the same, but then turned cold as soon as she showed a side of herself he didn’t approve of. “Where do you get off judging my abilities, but assume yours are above reproach? Why are all witches evil, but wolf shifters are not?”

At least he had the decency to look bashful. “All witches are not evil.”

She didn’t have the energy for a debate. “What happened in the car?”

“We were drugged.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out. What I mean is, who drugged us, and is Grandfather okay?” She gestured toward the room at large. “This is his house.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “That’s interesting. I know as little as you, but the door is locked.” He gave the entrance to the room a dirty look. “I can’t break it down. It’s too thick.”

An image of Grandfather plunging a syringe into Bolt rose in her mind, but before she could tell him, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

Lightning fast, Bolt moved between her and the door. He faced the entrance, shoulders tense and fists clenched. Regie would have felt flattered if she hadn’t known he protected her because he was contractually obligated to defend her.

Her grandfather entered, holding a large black handgun pointed at Bolt. “You’re both awake. That’s good.”

Regie sat up and scooted to the end of the bed. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” The gun confused her, but she worried more about the well-being of Grandfather. Why had he drugged them? There had to be some kind of reasonable explanation.

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