Forever Werewolf. Michele Hauf

and challenges. Mom did have her good moments, and he cherished them like diamonds.

      “You don’t like me very much, do you?” he asked.

      Again, the assessing head tilt. Tryst felt her gaze upon him, even though he couldn’t see it, and he liked her curious regard even if it wasn’t necessarily friendly. He loved when a woman looked him over and then decided to touch. Would she touch? Nah, she was one cool chick.

      Didn’t mean he couldn’t play with her.

      “Go for it, Lexi. I don’t bite.”

      “What?”

      “You were giving me the eye. I know.”

      She scoffed. “You are conceited.”

      “Yeah, but I’m also a threat to you in a way I can’t figure out. And that freaks you and surprises me.” He leaned closer and placed a hand next to her elbow on the step. Brushing his nose aside her silken hair, he smelled the faintest citrus sweetness. “You’re freaked, admit it.”

      “Back off, Hawkes.”

      He sat straight, propping his elbows on his knees and looking over the grounds before them. A wiser unaligned wolf wouldn’t risk sitting so close. Curiosity always trumped his wisdom. And who could refuse a challenge?

      “Fine. I get it. You’re the princess. You get to be the choosy one. You always this defensive toward men?”

      “Yes.”

      That honest answer was refreshing, and also tossed a wrench into this challenge. Straightforward kind of chick, this princess. He’d never met one like her, and everything about her made him want to learn more, to delve beneath her monotone exterior and discover the brightness within aching for release. Lexi Connor harbored a bold and vibrant color inside her, and he would find it.

      “My father told me …” she started.

      Spine straightening, Tryst immediately sensed what she couldn’t quite say. Hell, the principal had told her about his mixed blood. Of course, if the man wanted to protect his daughter from a nonpack wolf he would use whatever weapon he had at hand.

      “What did he tell you? About me?”

      He wasn’t about to make it easy for her. For anyone. So he had a chip on his shoulder about his heritage. Anyone wanted to make a big deal about it? He knew how to throw a punch. He had a missing molar, too, because he could also take a punch.

      Lexi sighed and smoothed a gloved finger along the seam of her leather pants. “He warned me to stay away from you because …”

      “Because why? Because I’m a strong male who knows how to take care of a woman? Because I don’t mind getting my hands dirty to help another pack? Because I respect your father?” Feeling his ire, he flexed a fist.

      “Because you’re a half-breed.”

      Tryst pulled up his chin and released his fists. The principal had gotten his information messed up. “I’m full wolf,” he said, cautioning the growl on his tone.

      “How is that possible? Your father is half wolf, half vampire, and your mother—”

      “Is a vampiress. But I don’t have any vampire in me, trust me on that one.”

      “Sounds impossible.”

      “Yeah?” He couldn’t punch his way out of this one. Damn. “And are you offended by the idea I might have a touch of vampire blood running through my veins?”

      “I—”

      “You pack wolves are all alike.” He stood and kicked the toe of his boot against the stone step to shake off the packed snow, and to avert his growing anger. “You’re all so tightly knit and exclusive. New guy comes along and you feel threatened.”

      “I didn’t say that I’m threatened by you. Nor did I say—”

      “Yeah, whatever.”

      He stomped up the steps, knowing if he didn’t leave her now he’d only give her a real growl. And he would never do that to a pack leader’s daughter. Any woman, for that matter.

      Wow. She’d just strummed his chords and what an awful tune.

      “I’m going to find something to eat, then get back to work shoveling out your pretty little castle, Miss Princess Trueblood.”

      So maybe he didn’t have as good a handle on this challenge as he’d thought.

      “Arrogant idiot,” Lexi muttered after the angry wolf who stomped inside. “The vampire thing definitely rubs him the wrong way.”

      And rightly so, she figured. Vamps and wolves had been at odds for centuries. They honored an ineffable ceasefire at the moment, but there weren’t a lot of wolves who would embrace a vampire as friend. Her father was friends with Trystan’s father, Rhys Hawkes, but it was more a political relationship than an embraceable acceptance.

      For good reason. Wolves didn’t go near vamps because if bitten by a vampire the wolf would develop an insatiable bloodlust, and werewolves did not drink blood or feed on humans. Ever. It was an abominable practice. And vampires avoided wolves because they knew the wolf was stronger and could beat the crap out of them with one fist tied behind their backs.

      So a young werewolf who had been born of a vampiress and a half-breed couldn’t possibly be full-blooded wolf. Why did he believe that?

      Of course, if he hadn’t a hunger for blood perhaps that led Trystan to such a belief. But the blood hunger could emerge anytime. Lexi knew well that, genetically, things didn’t always go as nature had intended in a wolf’s body.