He wanted to rip out the fucker’s throat.
The air filled with the ripe scent of blood. Lucas realized his nails had lengthened into claws, digging into the other man’s skin. What the hell am I doing? he thought, shaken. Get a grip, Rollings! He sucked in a deep breath, fighting to control the wolf clawing for the surface. Not now. Not here.
“Lucas Rollings, my name is Elena Livingston, and I seek your protection.”
Lucas’s eyes widened as he looked up from his captive to meet the woman’s green gaze. Her face was almost bloodless except for the bruise slowly purpling on her cheek, but her eyes were level and determined.
She’s formally asking me to become her champion. Ray had told Lucas that his size and attitude would make him an Alpha male among the Direkind, which meant the elderly, females, and children might ask him to defend them. Lucas had memorized the highly stylized etiquette of an Alpha champion, but he’d never expected to actually use it.
“Elena!” Stephen stared at her, incredulous. “What do think you’re doing?”
She ignored him like a queen. “This male has threatened and abused me, and I beg your protection.” There was no pleading in her gaze, just steady courage. Her face was delicately boned, nose straight and slim, mouth full, pink-lipped. And those eyes…
“Elena!” With a powerful wrench, the blond tore free of Lucas’s hold. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If you involve this mongrel, I’ll kill him.”
Lucas whirled to face his opponent, feeling his muscles coil into knots as he fought the need to Change and kill. Instead he throttled down his rage and gritted the ceremonial words, “Elena Livingston, I will defend you with my last breath.”
“You are a fool.” Stephen lunged at him. Lucas blocked his swinging fist and hit the Direwolf hard enough to rock his head back. The Shifter snarled, baring lengthening fangs.
Was he stupid enough to Change in the middle of the Harrisville Police Department parking lot? In broad daylight?
“No, Stephen!” Elena snapped. “Not here!”
“Hey!” Feet slapped the pavement. Lucas threw a look over his shoulder and mentally cursed as four uniformed cops ran toward them. That’s all this situation needed to truly go to hell—humans seeing something they shouldn’t.
Stephen froze, his cold eyes flicking toward the officers. Impotent fury flashed over his face before he took a step back. “We will settle this,” he hissed.
Lucas glared back. “Not tonight.”
“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” The officers fanned out and surrounded them, studying Stephen with narrow-eyed hostility. “This guy giving you trouble?”
“Yeah. He just assaulted this woman right in front of me.” Lucas turned toward Elena. Just the sight of her bruised cheek was enough to make his outraged instincts snarl. “Do you want to press charges?” Say yes. He wanted to lock his rival up for a few hours—long enough to find out what the hell was going on and figure out what to do about it.
“Elena!” Stephen growled. “If you do this, you’re going to pay for it.”
She didn’t even flinch. “Yes, I want to press charges. I want him to go to jail.”
“Oh, you stupid little bitch.”
“That’s enough!” Lucas grabbed Stephen by the shoulder and whirled him around. For a moment, he was tempted to slam the man’s head into the hood of the Hummer. Instead he jerked a set of handcuffs from his pocket. He hoped the other officers didn’t notice his hand was shaking with the intensity of his rage.
The werewolf stiffened, obviously considering fighting him before thinking better of it and allowing himself to be cuffed. Evidently he wasn’t insane enough to violate the Direkind taboo against using their abilities in the presence of humans.
Still, Lucas could literally smell his fury, pungent and acrid against the springtime scents of the flowers in the department’s flowerbeds.
“You all right, ma’am?” one of the officers asked Elena. “You want to go to the hospital?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Lucas met her gaze again—and felt again the heat surging between them. Trying to ignore it, he turned to hustle Stephen toward the department’s entrance.
He’d never felt like this before. What the hell was happening to him?
CHAPTER 3
Elena followed Stephen and Lieutenant Lucas Rollings through the police department’s corridors. Her cheek ached, and she could feel her lower lip swelling. Minor injuries, particularly compared to what Stephen no doubt had in mind. The bruises would heal as soon as she transformed. But for the time being, they were just what she needed to make sure her would-be husband spent the night in jail. The longer they could keep him locked up, the better.
For one thing, she was willing to bet Stephen would challenge her new champion the first chance he got. Though Elena suspected it was inevitable, the idea filled her with a surprising dread.
She remembered the moment when Lucas had looked at her. Elena had known her share of men over the years, and yet she’d never felt such stark, instant attraction. His eyes had stared into hers, dark and male and elemental, recognition and hunger flaming up in them.
What’s more, something ancient and female in her had purred in response. It was just the Burning Moon, Elena told herself firmly. Just pheromones and biology.
It doesn’t mean anything.
While one of the uniformed officers booked Stephen, Lucas escorted her up a set of stairs to the detectives’ division. Like those she’d seen in cop shows, it was a big, open room, filled with desks, filing cabinets, computers, and ringing phones. Unlike the television version, however, the light was much brighter, and dark blue cubicles surrounded the desks. Several detectives worked on paperwork, questioned suspects or witnesses, or talked on the phone.
“I just have a few questions,” Lucas told her, gesturing her to a chair beside one of the desks. Elena settled into it as he sat down behind the desk and booted up his computer.
She watched him, taking in the sight of those big hands moving over the keyboard with speed and competence. Stirring in her chair, she remembered his claws growing, pressing into Stephen’s throat, muscle flexing in his strong jaw. His powerful shoulders had bunched under the dark blue fabric of his suit coat, and his muscular backside had worked with the effort of keeping his enemy pinned.
Elena crossed her legs and swallowed.
He glanced at her as he opened a program file. Just one quick, dark glance, yet she felt it in the pit of her stomach. She recrossed her legs.
Lucas was definitely handsome, but not in the polished, Chosen mold. Instead, there was something a bit rougher in the width and angle of his cheekbones and the long hawk swoop of his nose. His upper lip had an intriguingly sensual curve, and his lower was suggestively full. It looked bitable, that lip. Tempting.
His eyes were dark, deep-set under thick, dark brows, and his short black hair curled as though inviting female fingers to set it to rights. When he asked her for her identification, his voice was deep, with a masculine rumble that seemed to suggest whispered intimacies in the dark.
Get a grip, Elena, she told herself. It’s your Burning Moon. Her body was deep in its yearly rut, producing a flood of hormones that urged her to mate while driving every male around her to a dangerous sexual pitch. Even humans felt it, though they had no idea they were reacting to the pheromones she produced.
Lucas, however, knew perfectly well what was going on. A blend of masculine awareness and acute discomfort lit those dark eyes of his, as if his Direwolf instincts battled his sense of duty.
Some primitive part of her enjoyed that. The rest of her was appalled.
She wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It was one thing to regret using him. But this intense…attraction wasn’t part of the plan. It made her feel out of control, and she’d been out of control more than enough as it was.
He started asking questions, and she answered mechanically—her name, her address, Stephen’s
name and address. Typing her answers into his computer, Lucas didn’t appear to recognize either surname. Which might just be an act for the humans’ benefit, since they were the two most powerful Chosen families in the South. If nothing else, there was always plenty of gossip going around about the Livingstons and the Bradfords.
Then again, Harrisville was hardly a center of Direkind culture. The three of them were probably the only werewolves for miles.
“So Mr. Bradford considers himself your fiancé?”
“He and my father have some kind of agreement. But I haven’t said yes, and I don’t intend to.”
“Do you live together?” As she stiffened, Lucas explained, “If you share a residence, I can charge him with domestic violence under South Carolina law. Otherwise it’s assault and battery.”
“No, we don’t live together. I’ve got my own place in Atlanta.” Or she had, until her father used his illness to guilt her into moving back into the family mansion. If she’d had any idea what Richard had in mind, she’d never have come anywhere near Charleston.
“What brings you to Harrisville?”
You. Which was not an answer that belonged in his report. She shrugged and lied. “I was passing through. Stephen followed me, so when I spotted your department, I pulled in. I was hoping he’d leave me alone, but he didn’t.”
Lucas frowned, his mouth pulling into a surprisingly sensual line. “Assault and battery is a misdemeanor in this state. The most he could get is thirty days in the county jail, and it’s doubtful a judge would even sentence him to that much. It’s a lot more likely he’ll just have to pay a two-hundred-dollar fine. Which means he’ll be able to sign a personal recognizance bond and get out of jail in four hours or so.”
Damn. She’d hoped they’d keep him locked up at least overnight. She badly needed a break before she took Stephen on again.
“But since he attacked and threatened you in a police department parking lot in front of a cop, I can argue that he’s dangerous. I’m going to request a formal bond hearing, with the Solicitor’s Office sending a prosecutor to argue for a higher bond.” The Solicitor’s Office was the South Carolina version of a District Attorney, handling all state prosecution for a given area. “Now, since it’s Friday night after five, nobody will be available to do that until Monday morning. That gives us a little time to discuss this and decide what to do.”
All weekend. She had all weekend to put her plan into action. “Thank God.” Taking a deep breath, Elena met his dark gaze again. “So, what now?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to have to talk to Mr. Bradford, get his side for the report. Then after that, I’ll escort you to your hotel.”
“Actually…” Elena dropped her voice to a pitch she was fairly sure none of the humans could overhear. “A hotel isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“No?” Heat leaped in his eyes, rich with masculine anticipation. Her own body warmed in response.
“No.” Elena swallowed and added hoarsely, “I’d rather go home with you. I’d feel…safer.”
“Safer?” A dark smile curved his lips. “Are you sure?”
She found herself smiling back at him.
“If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” Stephen Bradford said.
Lucas looked up to meet the Direwolf’s icy gaze with one just as cold. “You want me to add threatening a public official to the charges, Bradford?”
The man’s nostrils flared like a furious wolf’s. “Hiding behind that badge buys you only a few hours at most. My lawyer…”
“…Is shit out of luck, because I just spoke to the Solicitor’s Office, and they don’t have anybody available to present the case until Monday.”
“Coward!”
“That’s rich, coming from you. What are you, 210, 220? Elena weighs 120 tops. Bet hitting her made you feel real manly, didn’t it?” Good thing the detective’s division had emptied out for the night by the time he’d brought Bradford up for questioning. They didn’t have to worry about being overheard. Leaning forward, Lucas locked eyes with the Dire-[ ]wolf. “You want to take me on? Name the time and the place. I’ll be more than happy to teach you how it feels to be on the receiving end of a fist.”
“I’m not a schoolboy, mongrel. I don’t exchange punches. We fight in Direwolf form until one of us goes down and doesn’t get up.” Bradford showed his elegant teeth. “Unless you want to back out?”
“Oh, no. I fully intend to send you to that big doghouse in the sky.”
The Direwolf’s patrician nostrils flared. “My second will be in touch with yours—assuming you’ve got one.” His tone indicated doubt that Lucas had any friends at all, much less one willing to stand for him in a duel.
“I’ve got one.” Knowing Ray Johnston, he’d be happy to help. Ray hated the Chosen anyway. They’d need a judge too; Ray would know which Charlotte clan official to call. “We’ll see you and your second after the bond hearing Monday.”
“In the meantime…” Bradford gave him an threatening glare and dropped his voice to a lethal whisper. “Don’t get involved in whatever scheme Elena’s hatching. She’s a descendent of Wulfgar, and her father won’t stand for her bearing any whelp of yours.”
Lucas stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You.” Bradford curled his lip in revulsion. “And her.”
Jesus. More weird werewolf shit. “First, I just met the woman an hour ago. We’re not exactly going to be hopping into bed, Burning Moon or no Burning Moon. And second, in the unlikely event she did get pregnant, what could her daddy do about it—force her to go to a clinic?”
“You are ignorant, aren’t you?” Outright contempt curled the Direwolf’s mouth. “Mongrel.”
“At least I don’t beat women in parking lots like a drunken redneck.” Lucas’s mother had been on the receiving end of more than one parking-lot beating. God, he hated guys like this.
“I barely touched her!”
Lucas curled his lip. “Funny how blue-blood were-[ ]wolves spout the same shit as every other abusive asshole I’ve ever locked up.” And every one of my so-called “step-[ ]fathers.” Sue Rollings’s taste in men had seriously sucked.
“This is not the same thing!” Bradford sat back, visibly reining in his rage. His tone leveled into patient condescension. “Elena has a duty to obey her clan Alpha—who is also her father—but she ran away instead. Richard Livingston told me to bring her back. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Elena’s twenty-seven years old, and she’s an American citizen. She doesn’t have to obey Daddy anymore, and she sure as hell doesn’t have to obey you.”
“You don’t understand—she has a responsibility.” Bradford leaned forward again as his cold blue eyes began to shine with a fanatic’s fervor. “Those of us who are Chosen live by traditions of duty and honor that go back centuries. Without those traditions, we’re no better than the humans.”
“News flash, Bradford—you’re not better than the humans. Most humans don’t beat the shit out of people just because they’re smaller and weaker.”
“Don’t be such a sanctimonious ass. All Elena has to do is transform, and whatever piddling injuries I gave her will instantly heal. And if she’d start showing a little respect for her bloodline, I wouldn’t have to hurt her.” Bradford studied him. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You don’t even know who Wulfgar was, do you?”
“No, and I don’t care. ‘I wouldn’t have to hurt her’? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that line? You’re a real prick, you know that?”
Bradford’s jaw flexed, but otherwise, he ignored the taunt. “Wulfgar was our Arthur. He was the first among heroes, Chosen by Merlin himself to drink from the Grail and become Direkind. And since her father is dying, Elena is the last of his bloodline. Even you must see she should mate with her own kind.”
“I’m an American, asshole. I don’t believe anybody’s blood is better than anybody’s else’s.” Lucas smiled tauntingly. �
��But I do know inbreeding when I see it.”
The Direwolf stared at him, those cold eyes all but glowing in rage. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Not even on your best day.” With a vicious gesture, Lucas saved the report and hit print. “It’s time for you to go to jail, Stevie. You can spend the weekend thinking about how much I’m going to enjoy ripping out your throat.”
CHAPTER 4
“You know, boy,” Ray Johnston’s voice drawled in his ear, “you got a real gift for gettin’ yourself in a shitload of trouble.”
Lucas snorted and stopped the Crown Vic at a red light. He’d called his friend on his cell the minute he pulled out of the police department parking lot. “I can’t help that all you fuzzy bastards are insane.” Looking into his rearview mirror, he saw Elena’s Ferrari behind him. She was supposed to follow him back to his house, though he had no idea what he’d do with her when he got her there.
“You think we’re bad?” Ray demanded. “The Chosen are nastier than all the rest of us put together. And the Bradfords and the Livingstons are the most stone-cold ruthless of the lot. Not good men to piss off, my friend.”
“What the hell was I supposed to do? He was beating that girl in the parking lot of the police department!”
“Yeah, that sounds like Bradford.” His friend sighed. “And getting roped into serving as her champion sounds like you.”
Since the night five years ago when Ray had made Lucas a werewolf, the two men had become close friends. Ray had even served as his Wolfmaster, teaching him everything he needed to know about Direkind.
Good thing, too, because almost everything Lucas had ever heard about werewolves was pure crap. They weren’t allergic to silver or wolfsbane, and they didn’t need the full moon to change. And it was Merlin the wizard who’d created them, not some curse-casting gypsy.
As for the ravening killer idea—well, last week Lucas and Ray had gone to Jennifer Rosemond’s ninth birthday party. The little girl barely remembered her kidnapping at all, having been out cold for most of it.
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