Page 36 of Claimed By Werewolf
His head whipped toward me, eyes blazing.“You should.”
“No.”I stepped forward, and my hand brushed his arm.“I should care that my brother’s dead and no one will tell me why.I should care that the only person giving me even a sliver of truth is the man who terrifies me more than anyone.I should care that I can’t stop wanting the monster who keeps saving me.”
His breath caught.
We were too close now.My chest brushed his, my hand still on his arm, and his eyes locked on mine with a hunger that burned through every barrier he tried to throw up.
“Demi…” His voice was ragged, desperate.
“Yes?”I whispered.
His hand lifted for a second before he dropped it back to his side with a curse.“This will destroy you.”
“Then let it,” I said.
The silence that followed was suffocating.His eyes searched mine, raw and wild while his chest heaved.His fists curled like he was holding back something bigger than either of us.
Finally, he spun away and raked both hands through his hair.“You don’t belong here,” he muttered.
“Maybe not,” I said.“But I’m not leaving.Not until I have the truth.Not until I know what happened to Tyler.And not until I know what this is between us.”
His body stilled, his back to me, his breath sharp.
“You don’t quit, do you?”
“No.”
For a long time, he didn’t move.Didn’t speak.
Finally, he turned, his eyes dark, his face hard.“Then God help us both.”
Chapter Eighteen
Werewolf
The second I walked into church, I knew the wolves were circling.
Every head turned.
Prez sat at the head of the table with a cigar clamped between his teeth and his eyes hard as iron.Tremor lounged to his right with a smirk carved across his face like he’d been waiting for this moment.
I took my seat and lit a cigarette.
“Wolf,” Prez said, his voice slow, deliberate.“We got a problem.”
I leaned back with my face blank.“Don’t we always?”
Laughter rippled low around the table, but it didn’t soften the edge in the room.
“This one’s the same one I told you about before,” Prez went on.“Demi Cross.”
My jaw flexed.
Tremor cut in.“Showing up at the garage.Acting like she owns the place.People notice when a civilian sticks around too long.Makes us look sloppy.”
“Or compromised,” another brother added.
The words landed heavy.
