“Hell, you say? I’ll second the sentiment.” Her lover grasped her hand. “But I’m not ready to visit the land of fire and brimstone quite yet. And neither, I’m guessing, are you.”
“You got that right,” Abby solemnly muttered.
* * *
Cameron took off at a run, pulling the woman with him, relieved to find out how fast she was and that she wasn’t going to question him further or complain.
She kept up, her barefooted stride soundless on the grass and her slender arms pumping. The only evidence of her injury lay in her limp. She breathed heavily through the bruised mouth that he’d have given a lot to kiss again right that minute if he didn’t feel responsible for her safety. Thoughts about responsibility made anything having to do with her body off-limits, except getting it the hell out of there.
Four manned-up wolves were on their trail, and had ventured into protected property, potentially drawn by the woman’s scent now that he’d sexually enhanced it a thousandfold. Still, it was more likely they were after him for his part in patrolling a place they called their own, with his intent to keep them far from the busy Miami streets. For the past two months, his nightly prowling had created an invisible fence between them and the unsuspecting population.
Were those wolves dangerous? Seemed like it. But what more could happen to him after his last meeting with the fanged-and-clawed crowd? Besides, he’d taken a vow to protect and serve this city, and had to live up to that vow.
Also, at the moment, the need for a quick escape saved him from having a real conversation with the woman beside him.
Although telling her what he did for a day job, his name and rank, might have eased her mind, because people usually trusted cops, confessions at this point might also have made things worse. If regretful of the brief time they’d shared, she could file a complaint. She might cry foul over the same actions she had helped to initiate.
The situation was tricky. What would the department say about his after-hours patrol, on his own time? How would he explain it, when in no way did it make sense to allow his comrades or Internal Affairs a closer look at him or his nocturnal activities?
There were secrets to be kept on both sides of this mistake in the park, and zero chances for a future relationship with the woman he had hold of. The task was to get her to safety, then back off, forgetting wicked thoughts about her sleek, naked thighs and the kind of pleasure he’d discovered between them.
She’d been a distraction only, a kink in his plans. He needed to find other Weres for reasons that went beyond revenge. He needed information about his new state and what he could expect down the road. This park seemed like the only place to find those things.
And, he added in thought with a sideways glance at the woman beside him, the truth was that there had been someone else out here minutes ago. Werewolves, even while in their human skin, seldom used guns, and he’d smelled the metal.
“Are you coming?” he asked.
The woman beside him looked paler, and still limped. Her hair streamed behind her as she ran. She didn’t look directly at him. Cameron’s heart thudded annoyingly as he gripped her hand tighter.
For the first time since that vow with Miami law enforcement, he felt as though he had more than just a casual stake in the outcome here. Tonight, his investigation and the woman it had brought him felt personal. Was personal.
Racing between a line of young palm trees, a sign of the approaching streets ahead, Cameron chanced another look at his passionate, nameless lover, and found her expression questioning. God bless her sleek little hide, no hint of fear showed on her face—only a kind of steely determination.
She was indeed much more than she seemed. She was, in fact, a tough little thing.
Too bad for us, whoever you are.
Hell of a lot of bad timing here.
In the back of his mind lay the question of whether the immediacy of their connection meant something. The look in her eyes, and the way those eyes had seared into him, suggested there might be more in store.
A nagging suspicion suggested that he had better find out what this connection to her meant and if, after all was said and done, he truly would be able to forget her. In the meantime, because she had sidetracked his intention to capture and interrogate another Were tonight, his personal quest for information about himself had been put on hold.
Chances were good that they’d get off easily and chock tonight’s events up to nothing more than a casual, if unusual, event that happened to men and women all the time, all over the world. Casual sex between strangers. Case closed.
Snapping his teeth together so hard that his jaw burned, Cameron said, “Fire up, woman,” to the enigmatic female by his side, and increased his pace.
* * *
Abby’s legs felt weaker than normal and in need of a break. She’d just had a lover between them, and evidence of that was an ache that spread outward from her womb like cracks in a breached wall.
Her breathing was harsh, her chest taxed. Over the sounds she made, she heard their pursuers. At least two of them, and maybe more. These were Weres the one holding on to her didn’t want to meet, or didn’t want her to meet.
The park was brimming with monsters tonight. The one gripping her hand dialed back his speed after calling for more of it, considerately matching his stride to hers. Leaving him would have been a good idea, if it weren’t for the other creatures not far behind that likely had the scent of her bloody leg in their noses.
Every few seconds, she stole a glance at her lover, wondering as she watched his shirttails fly and his bare chest muscles ripple, how anyone on the bad end of society, including his own gene-spliced alternate species, could possibly expect to deal with him in any confrontational circumstance.
She felt the power in him, and had taken some of that power inside her. Remnants of that energy washed over her now, and yet every move he made seemed angled to make him appear human. Nevertheless, could an angel hide its wings for long? Could a devil hide its horns? A werewolf was a werewolf, and she had just been intimate with one.
Oh yeah, and guess what? She had liked it.
“Don’t slow down on my account,” she said as they rounded a corner. “I can take it.”
Her mind clung to the thought that if she had mistakenly accused her father for her wound, and didn’t call in soon, Sam would come after her for real—maybe not out of fatherly love for his daughter, but out of a strong business sense. There had never really been much love or admiration between them. Hardly any at all. Actually, none at all.
With her fingers securely curled in the Were’s hand, they raced past a brick wall that had seen better days and smelled of moss, finding an alley of palms. Dogs barked behind the tall fences, pinpointing Otherness without having to see it as she and the wolf passed.
Although the uneven earth here made sprinting difficult, Abby was determined to shake the Weres on their trail and remove herself from the picture. She was eager to pretend tonight never happened, and hopeful that the guy next to her would do the same. She had tucked into her mostly boring little life of being an animal control officer by day and a bartender by night.
All for the best.
When she got back to the office, she’d report the bad guys like she was supposed to do and pray that this big, beautiful Were would take his moonlight shift someplace else. She’d be convincing. She would get over this, and forget about him. The grazed leg she’d keep to herself.
Without a hint of warning, her companion slammed to a halt. He spun her around to face him and said soberly, “Go. Now. Don’t look back.”
“I can...”
“Now.” It was a command. “You do know your way? You weren’t lost?”
“I