Last Wolf Hunting

by Rhyannon Byrd

  A telling shiver slipped through her system, and it wasn’t from the cold.

  “What did you do, walk here?” she finally snapped, sounding waspish, hating herself for the fact that she’d have rather been running her palms over the hard, sleek muscles down his back, instead of pounding them with her fists. She could feel his heavy obliques shift as he moved, her mouth watering at the prospect of having so much raw power and strength beneath her hands.

  “Partly,” he grunted, shifting his hold on her legs, one of those big, rough hands too close to her bottom. Too close, yet not close enough. A part of her wanted to wiggle a bit to the side, until she got it right where she wanted it. And man, did she resent that part.

  “Partly? What does that mean?” Jillian tried to make her tone as annoying as possible, thinking that if she could just keep fighting with him, she wouldn’t have time to pay attention to those other thoughts swimming through her head. Naughty, provocative thoughts complete with writhing bodies, keening cries and warm, sweat-slick skin. Thoughts too dangerous for her peace of mind on the best of days, but when she was alone with this particular Bloodrunner in a remote part of the mountains, surrounded by the primal forest and not a hell of a lot else, they were damn near lethal.

  The pack was at least a half mile behind them now, Jeremy’s long legs making quick work of the sloping terrain, taking them farther into seclusion with every second that passed by—each moment taking her deeper into treacherous emotional territory that could too easily crush her. Trying to ignore that unsettling bit of knowledge, Jillian pulled her mind back to what she’d been saying. “I don’t get it, Jeremy. How can you ‘partly’ walk somewhere?”

  They entered a small glade surrounded by eight majestic pines interspersed with fledgling red and white oaks, and Jeremy stopped, moving in a slow circle as he surveyed their surroundings. When he seemed satisfied with what he found, he set her on her feet as easily as he’d lifted her.

  “I’m going to need my truck in Shadow Peak, but I felt like walking tonight, so I parked down below the rise and hiked with Cian the rest of the way to the clearing, instead of going into town first. Dylan called earlier to let me know there would be a challenge tonight,” he explained, slanting her a dark look, “but he didn’t mention who’d be fighting.”

  She arched one brow, determined to ignore the frustrating way the silvery moonlight glinted so perfectly off the burnished gold of his hair, making her want to reach out and bury her fingers in the warm, silken threads. “He probably thought you wouldn’t care.”

  “Right.” He snuffled a soft laugh under his breath, as if she’d said something funny, and Jillian struggled not to flinch from the provocative heat of his stare. His eyes had always been too mesmerizing for his own good—not to mention hers. The one time she’d allowed herself to be conned by those hazy swirls of green surrounded by thick, amber-colored lashes, she’d paid the price of a broken heart. But now she knew better. Knew better than to trust the promises swimming in their glowing depths.

  He stepped closer, grinning a little when she took a hasty step back, as if he knew what it cost her to be near him. The way he moved should have been outlawed. All long muscles and masculine grace, like a predator—like something on the hunt for its prey. His head tilted the tiniest fraction as he watched her, and it was a heady sensation, standing at the focus of all that blistering male intensity. For a brief moment, Jillian wondered just how close his wolf was to the surface, how close to the edge he’d been pushed.

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, acutely aware of just how little clothing she was wearing. “Why would you make me nervous?” she drawled sarcastically, arching her brows. “It’s not like you’ve brought me here against my will or anything.”

  A slow, crooked kind of smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You can keep trying to taunt me, but it won’t matter.” He blew out a slow breath, looking like a wicked, golden god of a man as he just stood there, staring down at her. “I hadn’t planned on any of this, but tonight seems to have knocked some sense into me. Now that I’m back, we’ve got to deal with what’s between us.” He paused, rubbing one hand over his stubbled jaw, the gently rasping sound easily heard against the soft quiet of the forest. “We’re not leaving here until we’ve talked this out, Jillian. But first, I want to know why you agreed to fight those challenges.”

  She hated that she had to control the urge to stomp her foot like a frustrated child. “Why? Because I didn’t have a choice. I’ve never wanted to fight the stupid things, but your never-ending list of past lovers just pushed and pushed, until the Elders ordered me to accept!”

  “So it’s true then, that the League made you fight. Elise thinks they’re punishing you.”

  Her gaze skittered away. “Maybe.”

  “Because of one kiss?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

  “It seems they knew me well enough to know what that kiss signified.” She jerked her gaze back to his face, hoping he could see just how angry he made her. “They knew I’d decided to put my trust in you, despite their warnings and threats. And it took all but a few hours for you to go running off with Danna, proving just how stupid I’d been to believe in you!”

  “So they make you accept those ridiculous challenges, risking your life.” She watched him work to master his emotions. After a moment, he quietly said, “That’s some punishment, Jillian. I’m surprised you just lie down and take it, or are you still terrified of disappointing them?”

  “I have no choice in the matter. Whenever I try to refuse, they consider it a show of weakness.” She sighed, still rankled over the League’s insistence that she meet the challenges. “And we can’t have any weak links in the chain of power, Jeremy.”

  “God forbid you actually stand up to them,” he said with soft menace.

  Her chin lifted a notch higher. “Unlike you, I have respect for the League.”

  He brushed that frustrating topic to the side with the sweep of his hand, and chose another argument. “Why do you suppose no one ever told me you were fighting? I can understand the pack’s silence, since I avoid them like the plague and they probably wouldn’t waste their breath talking to me, but what about Dylan? What about my parents?”

  Jillian shook her head, wondering why he didn’t get it. “There’s no conspiracy, Jeremy. Your parents have spent so much time away, I doubt they even know. And like I said, Dylan probably didn’t say anything because he knows you couldn’t care less about what happens to me.”

  His jaw locked, and a cutting flash of frustration ripped across his rugged features, before quickly disappearing, as if he’d thrown the emotion into some mental vault and slammed the door. “This argument is going nowhere,” he rasped, looking away to stare up at the star-studded sky.

  A moment of silence deepened between them as he gazed at the stars, his expression intent, as if looking for answers in their shimmering lights, and Jillian seized the opportunity to study him, to soak in all the breathtaking details that made her tremble with physical awareness. In the decade since he’d left Shadow Peak, he’d grown from someone with boyish charm and golden good looks, to a man who overshadowed everyone around him. He was that dynamic, his aura blinding and burning with intensity. A man who drew your eye and trapped it, with that blond, sun-bleached hair, dark golden skin and those smoky hazel eyes, his body battle-hardened and beautiful, the chiseled features of his face too masculine to be called anything but rugged. She even loved the strong column of his throat, with its fading scars, and the blond stubble on his cheeks and chin.

  “We should have hashed this out between us before I came back, Jillian.”

  The deep, provocative timbre of his voice hit her as heavily as the breathtaking power of his scent, making her burn from the inside out, as if she’d swallowed a smoldering ball of fire that now glowed in her belly, shooting like incandescent sparks through her fingers and her toes. Lighting her up. Turning her on.

&nb
sp; She swallowed, struggling for her voice. “And just when were we supposed to do that?” she asked, mentally wincing at the husky sound of lust rounding out the edges of her speech.

  His gaze lowered, those enigmatic eyes going dark, filled with thickening shadows. “We could have done it at the reception.”

  Jillian knew he was referring to his partner’s wedding, which had taken place just days before—and where his return to the pack had first been announced. They’d spent the entire night avoiding one another, though she’d snuck glances at him as often as possible, unable to help herself. And it still irritated her that no one in the League had thought to inform her of what was coming that night, leaving her to learn of his return in a crowd of people, all of whom had watched her with avid interest when the news was announced. “Yeah, that would have been swell, but I really thought I’d had enough good news that day,” she replied with a small, tight laugh, terrified at the knowledge that every moment she spent with him was breaking her down, weakening her resolve. He was like Kryptonite to her Superman, that one fatal weakness that could change her life forever by systemically stripping her defenses.

  “Jillian…” he sighed, sounding as if she was trying his patience “…whether we want it or not, I’m back. I’m here and we have to face the facts.”

  “Somehow,” she muttered, “I don’t think my facts are the same as yours.”

  He shook his head as he studied her. “You know, you always were stubborn, but I don’t remember you enjoying a fight this much before.”

  “I don’t want to fight you, Jeremy.” She lifted one shoulder and blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes—casual gestures meant to disguise the dizzying confusion going on inside of her. “I just want you to leave me alone.”

  “Won’t happen. Not today. And not tomorrow. I’ve come to a decision tonight, little witch. One that’s been a helluva long time coming.” His eyes went hotter, the sexy, smoky green swirling with a primitive violence and hunger that made heat crawl its way up her spine, melting over her skin like liquid fire, leaving her seething in a need too sharp to contain. Any moment now, the dam would burst—and god help her when it did. “I mean to have you, Jillian.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Wow. Just like that? Jeremy says he wants me and poof, I’m his?” she drawled, desperately clinging to an illusion of indifference. “I hate to rain on the parade here, but I just don’t feel the same way anymore.”

  “Like hell you don’t.” He laughed, daring to flash her an arrogant, predatory smile. She had the feeling he could see right through her, as if by looking into her eyes, he could see into her very soul and the dangerous truths that she’d buried there. “You’re lying, and we both know it.”

  “And you read minds now?” She snorted, hoping he didn’t know how he affected her, but it was a stupid wish. All he had to do was breathe, and he could tell just how hungry she was for him.

  He arched one tawny brow. “I don’t have to read your mind,” he said lightly. “Not when I can scent your body.”

  Jillian opened her mouth, but nothing came out, as if the denial had simply dissolved on her tongue.

  “Kinda intimate, isn’t it?” he whispered, the words silky, seductive, scratchy and a little raw. “Knowing that I can smell the need, the hunger, growing in you. That it affects me more strongly than any other male, whether he’s human or as bloody purebred Lycan as they come. That you were made for me. That you’re mine.”

  Jillian took another step backward, ready to flee, even though she knew she couldn’t outrun him. “I was never yours,” she argued, breathless as she swallowed the lump of panic caught in her throat. “Thankfully I got smart and opened my eyes to what you really are before it was too late.”

  “You didn’t open your eyes to jack,” he shot back in a soft growl. “And you sure didn’t trust me.”

  “With good reason!”

  “You gave up your future, your destiny, for a title,” he sneered, his contempt for the pack and what it stood for evident in his tone. “You jumped on the first excuse you could find to get rid of me, because deep down inside, you were terrified of having to choose between a life with me and your precious wolves.”

  “I didn’t give up my destiny!” she shouted. “The pack is my destiny, Jeremy. I was born for this, but I’ve no doubt you would have expected me to just up and walk away from it all, because of your hatred. That is, if the League didn’t strip me of my position first, for making what they considered an ‘irresponsible choice,’ whether nature meant for us to be together or not!”

  They were both breathing hard, their bodies tremoring with anger as emotion tore through them. “And does your job make for a lonely bed partner at night, Jillian? Does it stay faithful to you?” His voice lowered, becoming more intimate…more dangerous. “Does it keep you satisfied? Make you happy?”

  His husky words cut straight to her core, as if he knew just how to wound her, the way a fighter knows instinctively where to place his next blow. “My position calls for sacrifice,” she said softly. “It’s not anything I’d expect you to understand.”

  “You have no idea what sacrifices I would have been willing to make for you.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jeremy hardened his jaw. “You never even gave me a chance to prove myself, so forgive me if I still seem a little pissed about it.”

  “You didn’t leave me any choice,” she whispered, her throat shaking.

  “Like hell. I couldn’t do anything about my reputation before you came home from school, but from the day I realized what was between us, I never, never, gave you any reason to distrust me.”

  Jillian stared at him, stunned. “You still deny you were with Danna that night, after our first…our only kiss? After I told you that I was ready to give a relationship between us a chance?”

  His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath, the arc of his cheekbones flushed the dull red of anger. “If you had ever taken the time to ask me yourself, I could have told you that I didn’t lay a hand on Danna Gibson that night. I hadn’t touched anyone but you since you came home from school,” he growled, his voice like gravel. “And after you threatened to sic your mother and your precious League on me if I ever came near you again, I was too furious to even think about sex. It took me months before I cooled down enough to go around another woman, Jillian, much less take her to bed.”

  “That’s—”

  “Pathetic? Sad? Embarrassing?” he sneered, cutting her off. “Yeah, I know. But like I said, I was crazy about you. I’d have given you anything you wanted, but it wasn’t good enough for you. No, you were just waiting for me to screw up,” he continued, his anger mounting again like a great, swelling wave skimming the surface of the blackest ocean. “The second someone came running to you with some bullshit story about me, you jumped at the chance to believe them. And we both know why that was. You were afraid of more than just trusting me to be faithful, Jillian. You were terrified of what you knew we could have, of how powerful it could be. You ran from that like a frightened little girl, because you were scared that it’d mean you would have to make that choice between our relationship and your position. But that would have been a choice forced on you by them, not me.”

  Despite his conviction, she didn’t truly believe him. It was one thing for him to make such a claim now, when a relationship between them was impossible, but back then, Jillian knew he wouldn’t have been so accepting of the path her life was meant to follow. No, he’d have never been willing to live in Shadow Peak or understand her loyalty to the League. And living in the Alley would have presented its own problems. He would have resented the time she spent in town, with people he despised, and the pack would have been furious at the idea of their Spirit Walker living with the Runners. She had no doubt they would have demanded her resignation.

  “What do you want from me, Jeremy?” she asked in confusion, fighting not to fall apart as all the pain from the past decade crashed down on her, smothering and dark. “I know you no longer want
to bond with me, so then what are you after?”

  He made a rough, sarcastic sound in the back of his throat. “You’re right. No one said a damn thing about bonding, and I’m no longer a starry-eyed kid who hopes for things he’s never going to have.”

  “You were never starry-eyed.”

  His voice went lower, barely human beneath the seething emotion in his words. “Where you were concerned, I always had my head in the clouds. You let me down, Jillian. Changed me.”

  “Don’t you dare turn this back on me!”

  “I’ll do whatever I want to you, because this—” his feral gaze moved slowly down her body, affecting her like a physical touch “—belongs to me. It’s mine.” The husky words were rough with lust…and something deeper. Something so dark and emotional that she had no frame of reference for it. “You want to know what I want? I want you under me. Pure and simple.”

  The way he looked at her made Jillian feel as if he could see right into her, all her secrets exposed before him, laid out in a shocking display of intimacy. He was waiting. Waiting for a sign, for the briefest glimpse of weakness or a crack in her armor. Slips she couldn’t afford to make, not when her very soul was on the line.

  She knew she needed to keep her focus…but it was happening again. She couldn’t think when too close to this man, not when she kept getting tripped up in the details. Everything about him pulled her in, controlled her like the most hypnotic of drugs. Like smooth, thick syrup, he invaded her mind, slowing down time, until she was caught. Trapped. Held prisoner by a need to reach out and learn, firsthand, if he was as warm and hard as he looked. As silken and rugged and coarse.

  “You want me, Jillian. Lie about everything else, but don’t try to lie to me about this. I can feel it,” he argued in a gritty whisper, his voice hitting her like the warm spill of fine wine into her blood, making her limbs feel heavy, her heartbeat swift and deep and pounding. “I can see it written on your face. See it in the pulse of your throat. The tight little tips of your breasts. I can tell by the warm, sweet scent of need pouring off you.”