Page 66 of Wolf Tamer

I pause at a tree just out of sight of the house. The last of the dead and desiccated late-autumn leaves cling stubbornly to the limbs around me. I barely notice the biting wind skittering along my sweat-slicked skin.

Soon, I’ll have to push the raging emotions to the side, something I’ve always been good at, and go back to the house with a smile on my face while I pretend to be something I’m not.

Again, story of my life; it’s my greatest skill and, I’m starting to realize, my downfall.

I’m a mercenary. I kill people for a living. And if this was a case where killing would solve things, then I’d do it without hesitation. Those mean, ugly, nasty fucking witches went a step too far this time. They tried to find a back door into a place where they have no business being, according to whatever contract the older coven had signed with the older Redcliff Pack.

And to what end?

I have no chance to finish the thought when a body slams into mine again, knocking me into the nearly frozen dirt and filling my mouth with leaves.

I sputter and spit, trying to clear my airways just as a familiar scent reaches me.

Reid.

But an insanelyfuriousReid.

It’s a definite echo of the last time we were in this position, except I remember being a lot more willing, ready to enjoy his body the same way he enjoyed mine.

Before I knew about him and my sister. Or rather, his connection to my sister, because I’m finding it harder to justify his direct involvement.

At least this time, he’s still in his human form.

I react with whatever body part I can. Sharp elbows, remember? And maybe a little bit of payment for not getting to finish what I started with him.

“Not this time,” Reid growls. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He manages to somehow finagle our positions so that his knees now pin my arms to the ground, and the rest of me has a better chance of climbing Everest on my own than escaping him.

Why make cages at all? Just send in Reid. His entire body is an unbreakable prison when he’s ticked off. Take it from me.

“Give a girl a little breathing room, why don’t ya?” I struggle to get out.

“Not when she held a knife to my throat a few moments ago and tried to kill me with magic,” he retorts.

“I’m sorry about using magic against you. But I’m not sorry for trying to give you whatever whooping you deserve.”

He presses down harder, his grip bruising, and my excitement over seeing him up and at ’em dims slightly underneath the rising swell of panic. Maybe he’s giving me a little bit of what I deserve too, and I can’t even fault him for that.

“If you don’t believe me when I tell you the truth, then we have no business being together,” he says. At once, he releases me and he’s half a step away before I have a chance to draw a full breath. “On your feet, Tasha.”

It isn’t an option for me to argue, no room left to do anything other than what he bids.

I slowly rise, hesitant to turn around and face him. I can’t look into his eyes yet, not when the pain feels so fresh. Not when I’m having such a hard time coming to terms with everything.

There’s no sense in any of this, and a part of me wonders if I’m feeling my own emotions… or his. I’m not sure which would be worse at the moment.

I finally spin on my toes to face him and find myself staring at a stranger. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on his face before.

“What?” he barks out.

I shake my head, and I know we’re at an impasse. I just don’t see how we’re going to come out on the other side of it unscathed. Either I believe him when he claims his innocence, or I kill him now.

“I’m trying to decide—”

“How you can kill me?” He digs his hands into his pockets with his shoulders thrust forward and the rest of him poised, on the verge of action. “You’ll find I’m not so easily dealt with, Miss Ward, if that’s what you choose. You might have gotten the jump on me earlier, but I was holding back for your sake. I didn’t want to hurt you. Should you decide to attack again, you won’t find yourself on the receiving end of my mercy a second time.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and at once, the cold feels unbearable. How can he know me this way? How can he know what’s on my mind without me having to say anything?

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