Page 23 of Wolf Hunter

“Only my friends call me Tash.” I scoff.

His brows pinch. “You… have friends? With that charming attitude of yours?”

“Fine. I meant, my sister used to call me that.”

And only her.

“And now I do too. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

My hands ball into fists until my knuckles turn white, and I sport little pink crescent moon marks on my palms.

“I’m not getting used to shit.” I push off the bed and stalk the length of the room and back.

I’ve done it enough to know how many paces it takes to get from wall to wall. I recognize the view from the windows and the type of wood used on the door. The one thing I can’t do? Besides go invisible? I can’t figure out a way to break the warding spells.

Whoever Reid got to do them really knew what they were doing. To the point where I kicked myself for letting my skills slip.

“You think you can come in here whenever you please? Do your wolves know you have a voyeur fetish?”

He chuckles darkly. “They know you’re here for me to use in whatever way I please. Now sit.”

“If you think I’m going to—”

“Sit!”

His command rips through me, and my body collapses on the edge of the mattress a second later. Asshole. I’m not part of his pack. He can’t boss me around.

Well, apparently he can, and does. I purposely draw in as deep a breath as I’m able and cross one leg over the other with infinitesimal slowness.

Why does he have to be so damn attractive? It would be much easier to focus on my hatred if he looked like a swamp troll.

“I don’t have to get used to anything,” I repeat with viperous sarcasm. “I don’t plan on being here long.”

“Then I think it’s time for you to get used to the idea of changing your plans. You’re here for the duration of your life—however long I choose to extend it.” He keeps his shoulders rigid, his back straight. When I fail to respond, he steps closer, and our gazes lock.

A shiver runs through me, and I sit there like an asshole who hasn’t showered and is still wearing ripped and bloodstained clothing from the night before.

“My life is in your hands, huh?” I question. “Why do I get the feeling you want me to be scared?”

His smile goes wider. “Unless there’s something else of yours you’d like to have in my hands. I’m entirely open to suggestions at this point.”

Huh.Funny. “It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten yet because that statement was enough to make me sick.”

We continue to gawk at each other for the longest time, and I wonder why I have no more to say to him. Normally, I draw from a constant well of bitterness and sarcasm. Not today, though. Not since I took one look at Reid and lost my skills.

Lost a bit of other shit, too.

We’re at a verbal impasse trying to figure out who will come out on top. I’m not in the mood for an argument. Or maybe I am. Maybe I have too many emotions bubbling up inside me with no way to release them.

“You need to eat,” he finally says. “I talked to the kitchen, and they’ll bring something up for you shortly. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat so I figured eggs and bacon with toast were a good, safe bet.”

Both laced with cyanide? With hawthorn? Yeah, I’ll starve before I eat whatever he wants to serve me.

“Don’t bother with the nice guy act. I’m not buying it.”

“Who says it’s an act?”

Okay, that did it. I refuse to stay still with him looming over me like some kind of imposing mafia boss.

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