Taming The Shifter (Nocturne Wolf Romance)

by Lisa Childs

  “Don’t I know it,” Paige said with a chuckle. “You never stop interrogating me.”

  “Because you never answer my questions. Neither does Ben. Or Sebastian.” They were all keeping secrets from her. Frustration tired her, and she uttered a weary sigh. “Or Warrick.”

  “It’s not because we don’t want to give you answers,” Paige said. “It’s because we can’t.”

  Kate squeezed her eyes shut, holding in those tears of frustration and exhaustion. “I need to know.”

  “You need some rest,” Paige said. “You should have come home with me, so I could take care of you.”

  “You have Addi to take care of,” Kate said.

  “She’s fully recovered from her heart surgery,” Paige said with a heartfelt smile of relief. “She would love to help me take care of you.”

  Kate held up her bandaged forearms. “They’re just scratches.”

  “They’re bites,” Paige reminded her even though Kate was unlikely to ever forget how she had sustained these injuries, “and bites can get infected.”

  “Your husband gave me IV antibiotics.” Among other drugs, she suspected, since her memory was fuzzy again but not gone. Had he not dared to give her as high a dose as the last time she suspected she had been inside that god-awful clinic, the night someone had struck her in the head? “I’m fine.”

  “But are you safe here?” Paige asked, her eyes glistening with tears of fear. She was not too proud or too stubborn to shed them. “You got attacked right outside your apartment building.”

  “I was unarmed and unprepared. Now I have my gun and my bat. I’m safe here,” Kate assured her. Nothing—and no one—would get the jump on her again.

  “But you’re tired.” Something else Paige didn’t need to remind her of. “You need someone to look after you while you rest. I can stay.”

  And how would Paige protect her? She didn’t know how to shoot a gun or wield a bat. Or did she? What secrets was Paige keeping from her? Was she like Dwight and Warrick and that man he pursued— superhumanly strong?

  “If you stay, we’ll keep talking and I won’t rest,” Kate said with a smile so that she would not offend her friend. “I really just need to be alone.”

  Paige studied her for a moment before nodding and then rising from the couch. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Kate assured her as Paige walked to the door.

  Her friend turned back, her beautiful face tense with worry and regret. She didn’t believe Kate would be fine. What damn secret did she know that affected Kate’s safety?

  Before she could ask, Paige was gone. Moments later, though, a knock rattled the door. Kate leaped to her feet and threw open the door. “I’m glad you came back.”

  Hope brightened in the light-colored eyes of the man on her threshold. “I’m glad you’re glad.”

  She shook her head at Dwight. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “A man?” he asked and stepped inside the apartment and looked around as if trying to find one in her living room among the discarded newspaper and junk mail.

  “A friend.” Not that she owed him any explanations. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” he said, staring at her bandages. “I heard you were attacked.”

  “It wasn’t the first time,” she reminded him with the bitterness she had never quite overcome.

  “And it probably won’t be the last unless you learn to be more careful,” he warned her.

  She’d been outside her own damn apartment building—not meeting strange callers in dark alleys. She shouldn’t have had to be careful.

  “You have no idea what you’re risking,” he continued.

  “What are you talking about?” Did he know the secrets, too? Did everyone know but her?

  He stepped closer and reminded her, “I told you to stay away from Club Underground.”

  “I wasn’t attacked there.” But she had been brought there after the attack. Why? “And my best friend owns the place, so I won’t be staying away from it.”

  His face that she’d once thought handsome distorted with a grimace. He obviously didn’t like Paige. “Your best friend is not who you think she is.”

  “What are you talking about?” Damn him—he knew. Just like everyone else, he knew.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything except that you need to let all of this go. You can’t dig any deeper.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if you find out anything else,” he said, his voice deep with warning, “it’s going to kill you.”

  “So you didn’t come here to check on me at all,” she pointed out his lie. “You came here to threaten me.”

  “I came here because I still care about you.”

  “Still? When did you ever care about me?” she asked, incredulous that he could claim that he had after how he’d treated her.

  “I loved you,” he insisted. “I still do, Kate. But I lead a life that I can’t share with you.”

  “We’re both detectives,” she pointed out. “You and I lead the same life.”

  He uttered a heavy sigh. “No. We don’t.”

  “I don’t understand…” Anything. But then she’d never really understood Dwight, like how he could go from being a hero to being a monster so quickly.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  Was that actual sincerity in his voice for once? Or a veiled threat? Kate was too tired to discern the difference and too weak to fight Dwight if it was actually a threat.

  “She’s not the only one who needs to be careful.”

  *

  Warrick, unable to hide his presence any longer, stepped into the room. He’d kept out of sight while Paige had been warning Kate away from him. But this man was different—his very presence lifted the hair on Warrick’s nape. If he’d been in his other form, his hackles would have been raised and his teeth bared.

  Kate glanced toward him in surprise. “You’re here?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Where else would I be?” Reagan was still out there and posing a threat to her safety. But Reagan wasn’t the only threat. He turned back to the visitor.

  The man’s eyes were narrowed with anger and jealousy. “Who is this, Kate?” He didn’t ask; he demanded to know.

  “I’m—”

  “He’s none of your business,” Kate interrupted. “You need to leave.”

  The detective shook his head. “Not until he explains his comment.”

  “Well, where else would I be,” Warrick said, “but with Kate?”

  “That brings up a lot of other questions,” the man said. “But I’m more curious about who else needs to be careful? Were you referring to yourself? Or me?”

  “I’m always careful,” Warrick replied. He’d learned the hard way to trust no one.

  “So you’re threatening me?” the blond guy asked with a laugh, as if Warrick posed no threat to him.

  “Just advising you to do the same,” Warrick replied. “This is a dangerous city.”

  “Didn’t used to be,” the man remarked. “So how long have you been in town?”

  “How do you know I’m not from Zantrax?” He wondered how much the detective knew about him. He suspected more than Kate knew.

  “You’re not,” the man replied with absolute certainty. “So how long?”

  “Not long enough.” He hadn’t killed Reagan yet. And if this guy kept threatening Kate, he might need to add him to the hit list.

  “And here I was thinking that it was too long,” the blond guy sarcastically remarked.

  “You’re the one who’s stayed too long,” Kate said. “Please leave.”

  “Kate—” he protested.

  She shook her head. “Remember our agreement.”

  Without another word, the man turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

  “What agreement?” Warrick asked, jealousy twisting his guts.

  “Divorce a
greement,” she replied. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You’re my business,” he insisted. “Why would you marry a guy like him?” Not that Warrick couldn’t understand a woman falling for his slick good looks. Just not Kate. She was far shrewder than that. “Better yet, why did you divorce him?”

  Her lips twisted into a sexy sneer of disgust. “So you expect me to share all of my secrets but you intend to keep all of yours.”

  “What makes you think I have secrets?” he asked. What did she remember?

  “I know when a man’s keeping things from me.”

  “So that’s why you divorced your ex?”

  “No. He didn’t keep enough from me.” She flinched as if the memory was physically painful.

  Warrick realized why it was and rage consumed him. “He hurt you?” And then he had the balls to tell her to be careful? Had that been a threat of more violence?

  “It was a long time ago,” she said. “And he’s not the only one I’ve cared about who has hurt me.”

  “I would never hurt you, Kate,” he promised and reached out for her.

  But she stepped back, as if she truly feared him.

  “Kate!”

  “You’re hurting me with your secrets,” she said. “And you’re hurting me with your single-minded quest for revenge. You’re just as violent a man as Dwight—maybe more so because he’s never killed anyone, not even in the line of duty.”

  “That you know of,” he muttered, suspecting that the detective had secrets of his own.

  “What?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I just don’t trust him.”

  She chuckled. “That’s quite ironic coming from you.”

  “You don’t think he should trust me?”

  “I don’t think I should trust you,” she said.

  “Kate, I would never hurt you.” He caught her fingers in his and tugged her close. But he was careful of her bandages, of the injuries she never would have incurred had it not been for her involvement with him.

  Her friend Paige was right and so was she. He was too dangerous for her. Yet he couldn’t resist lowering his head and brushing his mouth across hers. Gently. Tenderly. With all the emotion churning inside him.

  She clutched at him and a little moan slipped through her lips. He moved to deepen the kiss, to part her lips so that he could taste her fully. But then he tasted something else: the salt of the tears streaking down her face.

  He pulled back, his heart twisting in his chest as he wiped away her tears. He had never met a stronger woman than Detective Wever; seeing her cry proved just how much she’d been hurt. Because of him? Or by him? “Kate?”

  “I can’t handle this,” she said.

  Old insecurities and jealousies rushed over him, and he asked, “Because of him? Are you thinking about your ex?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You must be tired—you’ve been through so much…” Whether she’d been hurt because of or by him, it didn’t matter—the blame was all his.

  “I’m supposed to forget about that,” she said. “Did you forget that you told me to?”

  Ben apparently hadn’t drugged her as much as he had last time. Damn. She remembered. Too much…

  “Kate…”

  “You told me to forget about you,” she reminded him. “And yet here you are.” She lifted one of her bandaged arms to touch his face. “Are you really here?”

  “I’m here, Kate,” he confirmed. But he shouldn’t have been. If he’d been able to find Reagan, he wouldn’t have been.

  Hell, if that smarmy detective hadn’t been in her apartment, he probably wouldn’t have made his presence known to her. He would have just watched over—protected her.

  She touched her head now, and her already pale face grew paler. “I’m not sure what’s real or what’s not anymore…”

  “You’re exhausted.” And too close to the truth but the truth was so surreal it was no wonder she struggled with reality. “Let me put you to bed.”

  Her lips curved into a tremulous smile. “If you put me to bed, I won’t get any sleep.”

  “I can control myself.”

  Her smile widened as she admitted, “Maybe I’m the one who can’t control myself.”

  “Then don’t,” he tempted her.

  Her smile faded as the muscles in her delicate face tensed. “I really do need some rest, though.”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me,” he realized. Rationally he understood why, but he didn’t react rationally to her rejection. Because her rejection reminded him of another, but Kate’s hurt far worse than Sylvia’s had. But like his ex, did Kate prefer another man to him? “What—you’d rather your ex had stayed and I’d left?”

  “I threw him out,” she reminded Warrick. “And now I’m throwing you out for acting like him.”

  Offended, he lifted his chin. “What do you mean? I’m nothing like him.”

  “You’re a violent man, just like he is,” she said. “And you’re acting jealous and possessive now.”

  “Kate—”

  “And you have no right to act jealous or possessive,” she pointed out. “You told me to forget about you—so let me forget. Just leave me the hell alone!”

  “Fine.” She was too tired and had been through too much for him to argue with her. Like she’d accused him, he had been acting like a jealous ass. And maybe she would be safer if he left anyway.

  “And don’t come back until you’re ready to tell me the truth,” she warned him. “About everything. I don’t want you here—I don’t want you—if you intend to keep secrets from me.”

  He paused at the door and turned back. “The truth about what, Kate?”

  “It was you in the alley that night.”

  “We already established it was,” he agreed. “You shot me.”

  “I’m not talking about that night,” she said. “I’m talking about the second time I shot you—when you weren’t you. But you were…”

  “Kate.” Oh, God, she had figured it out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You had a fresh wound on your shoulder—it was from where I shot you when you weren’t you. I knew Ben was lying to me about that…that thing. But I didn’t realize that you were lying to me, too.” Hurt filled her eyes, which glistened with more tears. “You’ve been lying to me all along.”

  “Kate…” He couldn’t lie to her now—not with her looking so wounded and raw and exhausted. So, instead of denying her allegations, he just kept walking. Right out the door, closing it quietly behind him. And now he knew that he could never come back.

  *

  Kate’s head pounded as fiercely as her heart. He hadn’t called her crazy; he hadn’t even seemed all that surprised that she had figured out his secret.

  But was that really his secret? That he wasn’t just a man—that at some time during the night, perhaps midnight, he turned into a beast?

  How was that even possible?

  None of it made sense. Not those beasts. Not that secret room behind the club where Ben did clandestine operations. But then maybe it all defied logic. Maybe there were explanations that, as a detective, she had always been too practical to consider.

  Hell, maybe it was whatever drugs Ben had given her that had inspired these crazy thoughts. She’d once thought she had been hallucinating and dreaming up Warrick, though, and he had proved to be real.

  She needed to go after him—to get him to explain everything to her. But she didn’t have any energy left. She needed rest, time to regroup, and after some sleep, she would be ready to discover all the secrets in Zantrax. Fighting a yawn, she stumbled into her bedroom—already reaching for the zipper on the sweatshirt she wore over a tank top and jeans. Paige had brought her the clothes, her other ones too bloody and torn to wear home.

  Her heart felt like her clothes—too bloody and torn.

  She was too exha
usted to deal with her feelings for Warrick. She loved him; she couldn’t deny that she’d fallen for him. But she also feared him and for him. His life was far more dangerous than even hers as a major case detective.

  “Don’t take off anything else,” a deep voice advised. “You’re not alone.” The man stepped from the shadows, his eerie topaz eyes gleaming in the faint light.

  He looked like Warrick but he wasn’t Warrick. How had she not noticed their resemblance before? Maybe because when Warrick was around, he was all she could see. Not the man he’d been attacking…

  “Warrick doesn’t know you’re here,” she surmised.

  He shook his head. “I would already be dead if he knew I’d come back here.”

  “Why would you risk death then to come back to my apartment?” To her?

  Because he intended to kill her just as Warrick had warned her, as he had feared? Apparently he had been right about this man; he was dangerous.

  Chapter 12

  If Warrick had gone out the window, as he usually did, the man wouldn’t have gotten the jump on him. But as he stepped out of the front doors of Kate’s building—where she had been attacked just the night before—a fist slammed into his face, knocking him back against the brick wall. His lip split, blood trailing down his jaw. He swiped it away with his hand and met the angry gaze of the man who’d struck him.

  But like him, this man wasn’t just a man. He had more than regular human strength. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the reason you need to stay the hell away from Kate!” He swung again.

  But Warrick was ready this time. He ducked and charged forward, shoving his shoulder into the man’s chest. Instead of knocking him down, as he would have a human, Kate’s ex only stumbled back before regaining his footing.

  “You have no claim on Kate anymore,” Warrick reminded the man.

  Dwight shook his head. “I will always have a claim on Kate.”

  “A divorce decree says otherwise.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the divorce!” the man shouted, his pale blue eyes gleaming with an obsession that had Warrick’s nape tingling again. “I only care about Kate.”

  “If that were true, you would respect the terms of your divorce because you’re the one who needs to stay away from her,” Warrick said. “If you ever hurt her again—” He swung out, catching the man across the jaw and knocking him back.