Page 26 of What a Wolf Demands

Of course, he’d heard very little about him, good or bad. Over the past few years, Max had made an effort to bring his fellow Alphas together. With sixty territories spread across the country, it was a difficult task. For one thing, Alphas by nature didn’t like being away from their territories. As de facto leader of the American wolves, however, Max had a lot of influence. Most Alphas responded to his request to gather in hopes of forming a coveted alliance with New York.

Levesque was one of several Alphas who never agreed to meet. He didn’t send a delegation north, either. As such, the Louisiana Territory was something of a black box.

Still, if the territory made a habit of killing latents without cause, wouldn’t Dom have heard of it? As Beta, he was privy to just about every piece of information that crossed Max’s desk. He also traveled far more often than Max, who was usually tied up with local pack business and was even now on a top secret trip in New York City, negotiating a business deal that could affect the whole species.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Lily’s voice jerked him out of his musings. She watched him with a deep frown between her brows. A thick spiral of red hair fell over her shoulder, the end curving around the gentle swell of her breast.

His cock tightened, and he bit back a curse as he forced his gaze to the road. When he spoke, his voice came out sharper than he intended. “We discussed this in the club.”

“Yes, and you said you’d see to it that I walk free.”

“If you’re innocent.”

“I am.”

She’d leaned closer as she spoke, and now she was halfway across the console. Afternoon sunlight poured through the windshield, picking up the golden highlights among the curls tumbling over her shoulders. She gripped the molded plastic with tight fingers, the skin white around her knuckles. Faint worry lines marred her otherwise smooth, high forehead.

It did nothing to mar her beauty, however. And he couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. If she’d done what her Alpha claimed, she was dangerous. A less experienced Hunter might dismiss the threat she posed.

He knew better.

The madness that sometimes befell latents could be unpredictable. Worse, she might not even realize she was losing control of her wolf.

Polite detachment. That was the attitude he needed to cultivate. It would be easy to become invested in her story. To take her side against what she claimed was a corrupt and biased pack system. But it wasn’t his job to take sides.

No, his job was simple: find her, apprehend her, and deliver her to her Alpha.

He’d never failed to complete a mission. He wasn’t about to start now. His body might respond to her. That was basic biology. He couldn’t always control it, but he could sure as hell control his thoughts—and the way he interacted with her.

So there would be no more kisses. The sooner he delivered her to Bon Rêve, the better.

The hotel loomed ahead, a line of cars streaming from the valet stand tucked back from the street. Weariness tugged at him. He needed food and sleep—preferably with as little human interaction as possible.

Lily’s stare was like a weight as he put on his turn signal and changed lanes. Clearly, she wasn’t backing down.

He slowed as they neared the hotel’s portico. Eyes on the knot of traffic around the entrance, he told her, “Every wolf I’ve captured has sworn they’re innocent. I’ve never had anyone confess.” Of course, a fair number were beyond speech by the time he got to them. When a latent went feral, they gave themselves over to the wolf—if not physically then mentally. Once the ability to reason was lost, there was no coming back. The best he could do was try to find them before they killed any humans. He wasn’t always successful. Most packs had members strategically placed in law enforcement or city government who could quietly work to bury stories of grisly murders or unexplained disappearances.

They weren’t always successful. Occasionally, disturbing reports emerged in the human news media . . . macabre tales of disemboweled corpses or dead hikers with teeth marks on their bones.

There was no need to tell Lily all that, though. If she was on her way to becoming feral, she didn’t need any reminders of her eventual fate.

“Are you calling me a liar?” she asked, heat in her voice.

“No. Just pointing out that insisting you’re innocent isn’t going to persuade anyone. LaFont’s neck was torn to pieces. Your scent was all over the scene.”

She let out a little huff. “It was an accident.”

“If that’s true, the Tracker who hears your case will know it.” The ones Max used could detect a drop of blood in a swimming pool.

Tension vibrated off Lily. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter. I made the wrong people angry.” Her voice rose, and the smell of rum intensified. “Even if a Tracker says I’m telling the truth, Charlie’s friends will kill me—if not now then certainly later. My only chance is to plead my case in a different territory. Then, once the Tracker finds me innocent, I can apply for sanctuary.”

That jolted him. He pulled into the valet line, put the car in park, and turned toward her.

Their eyes met. Inches apart. So close he could see the golden flecks in hers.

She straightened abruptly. A beat passed, then she settled back in her seat, her gaze on her lap. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her demeanor was flustered, as if she hadn’t realized how far she’d leaned over as they spoke.

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