Page 9 of Rogue Wolf Hunter

Jace was screwed. He was so totally, and completely, screwed.

She pulled his coat around her, shielding her nudity from him, though he was still keenly aware of it. It’d been necessity, survival. Period. There was nothing real to the way she’d felt pressed against him. Her sharp intake of breath as he’d drawn close. The look of longing in her eyes. Or her words.

Kiss me or I’ll die.

Her words had been a plea for him to protect her. Nothing more.

Hadn’t it?

Christ.

He moved to draw the burner cell from his pocket and phone division HQ, only to realize his coat was now covering the same nude woman who was making him need backup in the first place. Son-of-a-bitch.

“Hands behind your back,” he grumbled the first thing that came to mind. He gave a wave to cue her to spin around. He needed to gain control of this situation and fast.

“What?” Her eyes grew wide with fear.

No way. He wouldn’t relent. Not even for those big, brown doe-eyes.

She was far too dangerous.

“You heard me. Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

From the jut of that heart shaped chin, there no way was she going quietly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We’ll leave that for Headquarters to decide.” They both needed to book it before that beat cop stumbled across the victim. He reached to his belt clip and pulled out a pair of silver cuffs. “Now unless you want to wait for that cop to come back and do you one worse, you know the drill.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t rip your throat out, asshole.” She thrust her hands behind her.

Despite her words, his cock jerked as her smooth, feminine voice hit his ears like the call of a siren. What was wrong with him?

“This is ridiculous,” she growled.

No argument there. Ridiculous didn’t cover it. Fucked up beyond comprehension was more like it.

He slapped the cuffs on.

A few minutes later, he was slamming the door to his blue 1970 Chevelle SS and moved to the driver’s side while the she-wolf sat in the backseat. Reaching for the handle, he silently cursed himself and wondered what the hell his problem was.

Mercy was one thing. Kissing was another.

Though he hadn’t kissed her, had he? He’d only wanted to.

Damn it.

He muttered a string of curses under his breath as he climbed into the car and closed the door behind him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw her in the backseat, his coat she wore open and naked breasts exposed. It was like she had no sense of her own nudity; he knew from experience most shifters didn’t.

She was wild. Free.

He shifted his weight, his hard cock still pressing against his jeans.

She was right about the evidence. With no blood on her, no weapons and a different scent, there was no question she hadn’t killed that girl. But he had scented her at more than one of the crime scenes and as far as he was concerned that was more than enough of a reason to haul her in. He needed answers and with any luck, she’d be able to provide them.

He revved the engine and glanced in the mirror one more time. Her jaw clenched, pure frustration evident on her face as she continued to struggle with the handcuffs. Princess was seriously pissed off.

Ripping his gaze away, he pulled away from the curb and floored the gas pedal. Damn meeting started in half-an-hour.

As he drove, a feminine grumble sounded from the backseat. “Just because I’m a wolf doesn’t mean I’m a monster. You didn’t have to be so rough with me.”

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