Page 58 of Ranger's Justice

The way his body moved—fluid, powerful, lethal—before he shifted. The way he prowled after his prey, merciless, unrelenting. And then the transformation itself—lightning, mist, energy rippling through the air, reshaping him into something otherworldly.

It should have been monstrous. It wasn’t. It was the most beautiful, terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. He’s also the most dangerous thing I’ve ever wanted.

A hot, traitorous throb between my thighs makes me grit my teeth. I press my hands against my lap, furious with myself, with my own body for betraying me so easily. I should be questioning my sanity right now, not biting my lip to suppress the urge to squirm in my seat and relieve the aching need coiling inside me.

A creak of footsteps snaps my head up. Dalton.

He pauses a few feet away, his affable grin replaced by something far more knowing. “You good, princess?”

My cheeks burn. He knows. Goddamn it, he knows.

I school my expression into something neutral, ignoring the flush crawling up my neck. “Fine.”

Dalton snorts. “Yeah? Because you look like someone just rocked your world from about a mile away.”

I glare at him. “Screw you, Dalton.”

He grins. “Not happening. Rush would kill anyone who tried to take what’s his.”

“I’m not his.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles.

I clench my jaw, inhaling through my nose, forcing my body to cooperate. I will not let him get to me. Not now. Not while I’m still trying to process everything.

Dalton watches me for another beat, then shakes his head. “Come on, sweetheart. We need to get moving before the boss man gets back.”

I force myself to nod, pushing to my feet, still feeling the ghost of Rush’s hands on me, his voice in my head. His wolf. And worse than all of that? The part of me that wants him, anyway.

The hum of the SUV’s engine vibrates beneath me, a steady pulse against the silence that’s stretched between Rush and I since we left the warehouse. The convoy moves in formation, kicking up dust in the moonlight, headlights cutting through the dark as we make our way back to the hideaway.

Dalton, Deacon, and Gage are taking the girls into town, arranging safe transport and medical attention. The rest of us—Rush, Gideon, and me—are heading back to regroup, to deal with the aftermath of what transpired. Gideon takes the other SUV, leaving Rush and I to ride alone together.

Rush hasn’t said a word since we got into the SUV. He’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, his knuckles tight, the tendons in his forearms corded with restraint.

I can still feel the weight of what I saw pressing down on me, suffocating. The carnage. The hunt. The way he tore through those men with the ruthless efficiency of something not entirely human.

Something terrifying. Something breathtaking.

I shouldn’t be aroused right now. I should be horrified, shaken, and questioning everything I witnessed. Instead, I’m caught in this maddening, impossible place between fear and desire, between knowing I should run and knowing I never will.

Rush is restless. His energy crackles in the air around us like a live wire, his wolf still too close to the surface. Every movement of his body, every controlled breath, screams of a fight he’s barely winning.

I watch him, my pulse quickening. “You need to pull over.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look at me. “We’re almost back.”

“I don’t care.” I shift in my seat, turning toward him, studying the tension in his shoulders. “You’re crawling out of your own skin, and it’s going to eat you alive if you don’t deal with it.”

His fingers flex on the wheel. “I’ll deal with it.”

I exhale sharply, biting back the frustration bubbling in my chest. “Pull over, Rush.”

He ignores me initially, then—after a pause—he drives onto a small dirt road and stops at a cliff’s edge, revealing the vast desert below. Dust kicks up around us as he throws the SUV into park and shoves open his door without a word.

I watch him stalk toward the back of the SUV, the stiff set of his shoulders, the way his muscles coil with barely contained aggression.

Something inside me snaps. I shove my door open and follow him.

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