Page 53 of What a Wolf Demands

“Yes,” she said, hating the way her cheeks burned under his regard. “I understand.”

9

He was an ass of the highest order.

Dom drummed his fingers on the SUV’s center console, ten kinds of regret spinning through his mind as he waited for Lily.

She hadn’t spoken since they left the hotel—hadn’t even questioned him when he steered her toward a new rental car. Hadn’t demanded to know why he reversed his earlier position and decided to take her to New York after all. She’d simply settled next to him and looked out the passenger window.

And she’d spent the past hour and a half just as silent. More than a few times, he’d caught himself glancing her way, trying to get a look at her, but her loose hair obscured her face. As the minutes ticked past, he’d contemplated and discarded half a dozen things to say.

Each one had sounded stupid, so he’d kept his mouth shut as the silence mounted.

He wasn’t going to think too hard about why it mattered if she spoke or not. Or if she was comfortable. Or angry with him.

When she’d finally turned his way, a question in her eyes, he’d been so relieved he didn’t care what she wanted to talk about. Just as long as it was something.

She’d asked for a bathroom break.

So now he was stuck outside a gas station in the Louisiana bayou, his nerves twitchy as he scanned the parking lot and watched the door, ready to rush inside and grab Lily if anyone so much as glanced in her direction.

He already didn’t like this rescue mission of hers. But she’d looked so upset when she spoke of her friend . . .

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she’d looked upset.

The whole vehicle shook as a car whipped past on the nearby highway. He clenched his jaw. Whatever genius had designed a gas station this close to the road had clearly put convenience before safety. The station, which had a restaurant attached and an overflow parking lot filled with semis, was so close to the road Dom could see motorists’ faces as they hurtled by.

Unfortunately, not even the fear of being pulverized by an oncoming car could distract him from his thoughts.

Or the memory of Lily’s expression when he’d snapped at her in the bedroom, forbidding her to mention what passed between them the night before.

She’d been embarrassed when she first woke. That had been obvious.

If he was a better man, he would have said whatever he could to smooth things over, to ease the awkwardness and help her feel better about the night they shared.

But he wasn’t that man. More specifically, he wasn’t the man she needed, and he never could be.

Worse, he was too much of a coward to tell her. Hell, he’d had trouble looking her in the eyes that morning.

Because he wasn’t sure what she’d see in his.

So he’d let her think he regretted what happened. It wasn’t that hard to do, considering he felt plenty of regret. He should have never allowed himself to touch her—never mind his lack of options at the time. He was a Beta wolf. A problem-solver. He should have thought of something.

Anything to keep from breaking the vow he’d made six years ago.

He rested his hands on top of the steering wheel, his gaze finding the thin, narrow scar on the back of his right hand. It was barely noticeable—the kind of thing he had to point out if he wanted someone to see it.

But he knew it was there. He could never forget.

A flash of red in his peripheral vision made him look up.

Lily exited the station, her eyes on the SUV. As she approached, eyes fastened on her. Men stopped in their tracks, their gazes going to her hair, her breasts, her ass. If she thought the sweater she wore hid her figure, she was sorely mistaken. If anything, the soft material molded to her chest, accentuating the high, proud curves. The jeans hugged her long legs, drawing attention to her slender thighs and sweetly rounded hips. Her hair streamed around her shoulders, the soft waves like a river of fire against the cream of her sweater.

A man by the gas pumps stood with his mouth agape, his gaze following her every step. She might be latent, but she moved with the wolf’s unconscious grace, her steps soundless against the pavement. There was danger in those steps. She was a predator, even if her animal half was trapped in the prison of her human form.

Another regret. In the throes of her passion, she’d admitted she couldn’t control her anger. If her wolf was going feral, werewolf law was clear about her future.

In other words, she didn’t have one.

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