Page 16 of Moonlighting with the Werewolf

Better question: what the hell was wrong with her that she lectured a man who could snap her in half so easily? Did she have no sense of self-preservation?

Kerrigan pointed a finger my way. “Thisis why I asked around about you. If someone would’ve told me you were a raging psychopath, I would’ve refused your dinner request. Maybe it’s sad to eat alone every night, but if the alternative is dealing with a moody werewolf, I’ll take sad and boring any day.”

With every word, I became less and less sure of the conclusion I’d drawn about the woman at my bedside. Without my chest and side screaming so loudly, and oxygen finally flowing to my brain, thoughts came easier. Clearer. I’d used my senses to scour her living room and kitchen, and there hadn’t been any objects or scents that suggested she dabbled in the occult, much less was immersed in it. Even the best of spies couldn’t hide scents from noses like mine. “You’re saying you’re not a witch.”

Kerrigan crossed her arms, every inch of her petite posture on the defensive side. “Are you saying there is such a thing? And if so, would they be as shocked as I was to discover werewolves exist?”

Doubt flickered, mostly because I’d been so sure when I’d followed her throughout the day. I’d also wrapped my hand around her neck, and if I’d done that without her deserving it...? “You could be acting.”

Kerrigan rolled her eyes. For a spy, she sure wore her feelings on her sleeve. “Why don’t I give you the number to my drama teacher? My acting was so poor during my high school production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream, I was demotedfrom a woodland creature with three lines to a tree that constantly got in trouble for waving its branches too much.”

A snort came out—I couldn’t help it. I sat up as much as I could and wiggled the cuffs around my wrists. It was Nissa’s work for sure, and she was in for an earful. But first things first. “Are you going to unshackle me?”

Kerrigan’s chin tipped up in that same defiant way it had yesterday. “Depends. Are you going to try to break my wrist again?”

“If I’d meant to break it, it’d be broken, Doc.”

An offended noise sounded in the back of her throat. Okay, so I probably could’ve given a better, more tactful answer. With the truth crystalizing, shining a spotlight on Kerrigan and how she hadn’t lost any of her sass even after I’d been a scary raging asshole, the contempt I’d clung to faded.

Thank God I hadn’t hurt her.

Lead filled my lungs, leaving them too heavy mere minutes after they’d returned to normal. I’d almost killed an innocent civilian. A beautiful, fiery one that hadn’t freaked out and left me to die. She’d saved my ass twice now. Not great for my pride, but I appreciated it. This needed to be the last time, though.

Kerrigan removed her bloodied lab coat and snagged the jacket she’d been wearing earlier off a hook near the door. She slipped one arm inside, the fabric of her shirt growing tighter across her breasts as she wrestled with the other sleeve.

I attempted to readjust my dick without the use of my hands, but big surprise, it didn’t work. The chains grew heavier and more irritating, and I hated being tied down more than about anything else in the world—hated anything that prevented me from being completely and totally in control. “Kerrigan.”

She abandoned her battle with the other sleeve of her jacket, her lips parting on an exhale that didn’t help the mashed-junksituation. Then she blinked at me, as if she couldn’t figure out why I’d possibly called her name like that.

“My patience is growing real fucking thin,” I gritted out. “Time to undo these restraints.” “Are you going to say please?”

Really? After my interrogation tactics, she hadn’t gotten through her skull she should fear me? I thought she was smarter than that. “I don’t say please.”

“If you’re going to continue being unreasonable, you can just lie there until your friends return to pick you up. A nap might do you good. Try to wake up on the other side of the bed, m’kay?”

So it was gonna be the hard way, then. Having had to expend too much energy already, I’d hoped to avoid it, but evidently Kerrigan needed a display to knock some sense into her. Not only did creatures like me exist, but there was also a witch on the loose, and that meant my life was about to involve more danger than usual.

Like it or not, I needed to cut ties with the ridiculously stubborn doctor.

Drawing upon all my strength, I braced myself as the heavy links dug into my wrists and lower abdomen. Inch by inch, I wriggled the chain secured around my middle down to my waist, liberating me enough to sit up the rest of the way. Then I yanked, clenching my jaw against the pain in my right arm as I pushed my muscles to the limit.

The metal groaned, and that certainly got Kerrigan’s attention. She backpedaled and blindly reached toward the medicine cabinet, assumedly in search of something that’d knock me out.

No way was I going to let her give me another dose of that groggy shit. Especially since my error in judgment meant I still had a witch to hunt down.

The cuff on my right wrist creaked and complained and then finally snapped, and she let out a yelp.

“You-you broke it,” Kerrigan breathed more than said.

I slid free of the coil that’d secured me to the table and swung my legs around until my feet hit the floor.

Kerrigan snagged a vial and a syringe from the open cabinet. She jabbed the needle into the top.

“These restraints might’ve held while I was sedated. But awake, there’s not a whole lot that can stop me.” With a roar, I wrenched my left arm with all my might, and the chain securing my other wrist to the exam table snapped. The peeled-apart links fell to the floor, hitting the tile with an echoingclang, and the vial Kerrigan had been holding slipped through her hands.

The little glass bottle rolled across the floor and bumped my toes. Since I’d broken the links on my left wrist instead of the cuff, the few still connected to my fat silver bracelet rattled against the tile as I scooped up the vial. I tossed it aside, satisfied by the shatter of glass against the wall. “No more drugs. I suppose I do owe you an apology, though.”

Kerrigan gaped at me, her mouth hanging open. After several seconds of silence, she asked, “Is that supposed to be one? Usually apologies involve words about being sorry and promises to never do it again.”

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