Page 42 of What a Wolf Demands

The same couldn’t be said for Luc. He struggled against the others’ grip. His face was still red, and his features twisted in rage. “You dare put your hands on me, sneak! You’ll pay for that.”

Dom shrugged.

That only seemed to enrage Luc more. He jerked his body forward like a dog on a chain.

Guyon spoke. “Come on, Luc. Before someone hears.”

“This floor’s empty for the night,” Dom told him. “I booked all the rooms.”

Luc growled. “Throwing that New York money around.” He jerked against the males’ hold again. “Your cash won’t save you this time, Prado.”

Save him from what? Now Luc was threatening Dom?

Guyon pulled Luc back a few steps. “Let’s go. It’s over.”

Luc let himself be dragged backwards.

Dom moved into the doorway as the males withdrew.

Lily released a shaky breath. Luc and the others disappeared from view, leaving her with a clear look at Dom’s broad back. She stepped away from the door. She needed to get to the closet before he turned around and spotted her.

Before she could move, Luc’s voice rang out from the hall, the volume blunted by walls and distance. “When you find that feral bitch, give her a message for me.”

Lily froze.

“You tell her we’ve got her little friend.”

Friend? She had no friends.

“Tell her Bart’s real comfortable in his cell, waiting patiently for her return.”

She staggered back, her thoughts spinning. Luc had Bart? The only “cell” in Bon Rêve was at the Alpha’s mansion—a dank, windowless room in the basement, where the pack kept the occasional prisoner or drunk werewolf. Why would Levesque be holding the bar owner there? He’d done nothing wrong.

Nothing except hire her. And befriend her. And look after her.

Her stomach clenched. Yes, Bart was her friend. And now he was paying for it.

The rattlesnakes stirred in her chest. She’d be damned if she let Luc Thibeaux hurt Bart.

Without warning, the bedroom doors swung open.

Dom stared at her, his eyes the light, piercing blue of the wolf. “I told you to stay in the closet.”

“I . . .” She met his gaze, making eye contact with his wolf.

“Well?” he demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Say?” Confusion swamped her—like a great cloud had filled the space normally occupied by her brain. Her limbs felt heavy, her skin too tight.

Dom frowned. “Lily?”

She shook her head, which had started to buzz. Her nipples tightened. She backed up a step.

Because she knew what this was.

And it could not be happening right now . . .

“Lily, what’s wrong?” He moved toward her.

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