Page 14 of Touch of Evil

Bren’s reply and anger take me aback. “Why do you think?”

I hold out a hand when his eyes fly open. “I don’t mean it that way. What I’m saying is, we were on a date and that’s something people on dates often do.”

I shut my mouth when I realize how many loiteringweresare listening in on my latest debacle. The band has pulled in a larger crowd from the street. Most are human. Those closest to the bar areweresand they look familiar.

“Ted offered to take me for a ride along the lake,” I say, lowering my voice. “He said he’d left his keys in his apartment.”

“Emme, the only place he wanted to take you was to bed,” Bren tells me flatly. “No one takes romantic drives anymore. It’s just shit he made up to get you back to his place.”

“I realize that now,” I reply.

“The idiot probably doesn’t even own a car,” he adds.

My shoulders droop when theweresbehind me laugh. I only hope they’re not laughing at me. “I get it, Bren,” I whisper. “You don’t have rub it in.”

He groans and swipes his face when I shrink further inward. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse. There’re just a lot of horny bastards out there. And some of these newbies trying to get into the pack aren’t disciplined at all, you feel me? The war took out a lot of the strong, traditional alphas, the goody-goody-types who fiercely instilled right from wrong. At best, these morons have learned not to munch on humans, at worst…” He motions to me with an irritated gesture. “You get Donald.”

“Ted,” I clarify.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Still an asshole.”

I lift my glass to take another sip of water. The rim doesn’t quite reach my lips when I return it to the bar.

“What’s wrong?” Bren asks.

The stress of how really bad the night was hits me all at once and I haven’t even told him about the presence I felt and all thewereswho went after it. “Ted wasn’t disciplined, like you said,” I admit. “He wasn’t careful with me or his words.”

Bren doesn’t move. “You saying he hurt you?”

Yes. He did. But I wish I hadn’t let him.

“Not in the physical sense,” I reply. I play with the glass in my hand. “He said things about me and about Liam and his mate. He told me it was actually Taran he wanted and only went out with me because I was available and he felt sorry for me.”

“What the hell?” Bren says, no longer trying be quiet. “I’ll kick his ass.”

Bren places his palm on the bar, ready to leap over and track Ted down. I grasp his wrist, my touch nothing compared to his brute strength, but enough to keep him in place. “It’s all right,” I tell him. “I made it clear he was out of line when I threw him out the window—”

Bren regards me as is if he doesn’t recognize me. “You threw him out the window?”

“Yes?” I say.

Bren leans in and smiles with enough warmth to melt the ice cubes in my glass. The annoyance darkening his features skitters away, leaving only the wolf I know and adore.

“That’s my girl,” he says, skimming his rough knuckles against my cheek.

A tease of heat flickers along my skin with Bren’s caress, stirring desire and invigorating my tormented spirit. I welcome the ardor like my next breath, claiming it and permitting it to lick the scars marring my damaged soul.

Bren stops, his eyes widening as if he’s committing the most heinous sin. Pain, anger, greed, and rapture—every emotion akin to grief warring along his features.

“Bren,” I whisper, sensing him pull away.

He doesn’t want me. He’s withdrawing, abandoning me and my touch, just as he’s done before.

But then, he doesn’t, returning like an unbridled storm.

Bren hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me to him.

He kisses me, savagely, his tongue probing and dominating.

---