Page 22 of What a Wolf Demands

Was she prepared to do that? To put her freedom in the hands of a wolf known for hunting down fugitives and out of control latents?

Although, it wasn’t like she had much choice.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “You’re caught, Ms. Agincourt. Well and truly. Best accept it and move on to examining your options.”

Well, that was an interesting way of putting it. Like they were negotiating a business deal. “And what are my options?”

He tapped his front jacket pocket. “Leave this club voluntarily and in full possession of your faculties or force me to sedate you. Either way, you’re leaving with me.”

“And then what?” Somehow, she didn’t think he was going to take her to dinner.

“I’ll deliver you to your Alpha.”

She started shaking her head before he got the last word out. “I can’t go back there. They’ll kill me.”

“You’ll have a chance to prove your innocence—”

“No. I was a dead woman the moment Charlie took his last breath. He’s a LaFont, and his best friend was in the bar that night. Their families will be out for blood.”

Prado frowned. “The Alpha is the only one who determines a wolf’s guilt or innocence.”

“Not in Bon Rêve.” Oh, the Alpha might make a big show of handing down her sentence, but he was little more than a figurehead. The loup-garou had always considered themselves separate from other wolves. Different. The bayou’s powerful, insular families chose a leader who would fall in line with their wishes and commands.

And if he didn’t? They just chose another.

The dance floor’s lights flashed over Prado’s shoulder. All at once, weariness washed over Lily—probably the combined effects of the frantic chase and her skipped breakfast that morning. She leaned against the wall, the rough brick scraping her shoulder blades.

Prado seemed to take this as capitulation because he nodded. “A wise decision, Ms. Agincourt.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Live to fight another day?”

“There’s no need to fight. If you’re innocent, I’ll see to it that you walk free.” His gaze dropped to her shoulder where a tangle of sodden curls was just starting to frizz—courtesy of her recent rum bath.

She shoved the hair back.

Prado snapped his gaze to hers. Once again, color entered his cheeks.

Curiosity cut through her anxiety and exhaustion. By all accounts, he was a stone-cold killer. The species’ unofficial hitman.

So how the hell did an executioner manage to blush? Maybe he had some kind of blood pressure disorder.

Whatever it was, it made him more approachable somehow.

More human, even if he was nothing of the sort.

And she could work with that.

She held his stare. It might be a no-no, looking directly into a dominant wolf’s eyes, but she couldn’t afford to play by the rules at the moment. “You’ll see to it that I walk free?”

“If you’re innocent. I give you my word.”

“Your word.” There was skepticism in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Didn’t he know the days of doing business on a handshake were over? It was actually kind of cute, him swearing on his honor like that.

His eyes glinted, and his tone was deadly serious when he said, “If I say I’ll do something, I mean it. Understood?”

“Understood,” she said automatically. In her mind, she scowled at her quick acquiescence. But he’d said it so convincingly, she’d replied without thinking.

Prado gave her a satisfied look. “Then we have a deal.”

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