Was it so much to ask that the first time she met a man she wanted he’d be human? She nearly laughed out loud. A human male would never cut it either. She’d never subject another to the danger that surrounded her.

Knox would be the death of her, maybe not in the physical sense, but he’d play the starring role in the demise of her heart. She’d allowed herself to feel too much for him, and she had to put an end to it before it was too late. She had to leave—tonight. It would be difficult at best to escape him, but she would figure out how to do it somehow. She squared her shoulders in determination and started devising a plan. Once her iron will was set on something, she very rarely failed.

The first thing she’d do once she escaped Knox was find that little bastard he’d let go and do the world a favor by ridding it of him. The rogue had scared her, and she didn’t like to be scared. Fear made her feel weak, helpless, and it dug up memories of the past she preferred to keep buried. She sat up and reached for a towel before standing. Water sloshed down her legs, and the cool air hit her, sending goose bumps scattering over the surface of her skin.

She could hear thunk, thunk, thunk in the bedroom and assumed Knox was fixing the window that had been broken by the rogue. She drained the tub, dried off, and dressed in jeans, thick socks, boots, and a hoodie pulled over a T-shirt. She always wore sensible cotton panties, but never a bra.

She hated the damn things, and had never found one that was comfortable. Thankful to be in her own clothes again, she glanced at Knox’s discarded shirt on the floor, quickly picked it up, and tucked it into her bag before she combed her hair and gave her teeth a quick brush.

She didn’t quite understand what had made her put his shirt in her bag, but for some peculiar reason, she wanted to hang on to it. She took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, but stopped just short of touching it. She didn’t want to go out there while he was still there. When he was near, her common sense liked to flee in happy surrender.

She listened until the banging and shuffling stopped, then waited a few moments more in the silence before going back into the bedroom. The window was boarded over, and Knox was gone. She set her bag on the bed and paced the floor, barely noticing its creakity creaks under her steps. She knew he wanted to talk to her about tonight’s events, probably even try to convince her that he’d been right in sending the lycan away instead of killing him.

She jumped when a knock sounded on the door. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.” Knox’s voice came muffled through the door.

She looked around and quickly decided talking in the bedroom probably wasn’t the best idea, afraid of what her hormones may encourage her to do. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Time to put her plan into action. She’d listen and do her part in making him believe she was coming around to his way of thinking. She’d act as if she were entertaining the idea of agreeing with his view of things, lull him into a false sense of security, one that would hopefully lower his guard of her enough to allow her escape. She pushed aside the fact that deceiving him felt wrong, tamped it down and locked it away.

When she stepped out into the hall, the smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, and her stomach growled in protest. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Too long. She’d never been happier that she wasn’t a vegetarian—even if she was, the delectable aroma of beef might be enough temptation to turn her. She followed the mouthwatering trail to the kitchen, where Knox was standing by a stove, turning over two of the largest steaks she’d ever seen. His back was to her, and she couldn’t help but admire the broad width of his shoulders. She felt fragile, feminine around him, and strangely that turned her on more than irritated her.

“I don’t follow a regular eating schedule. I’m sorry. I should have fed you before now. I hope you like steak, baked potatoes, and salad.” He glanced over his shoulder at her before checking the oven.

“Sounds good. Do you need help with anything?”

“You can pour the tea. The glasses are in the cabinet to my right, and the tea’s in the fridge.”

She found the glasses, filled them with tea, and checked the freezer for ice. She was happy there was ice because she loved lots of it in whatever she happened to be drinking—including milk. After refilling the trays and putting the half-empty pitcher back in the fridge, she carried the glasses to the small wooden table that sat in a nook off the kitchen, beside a bay window. She noticed the two bowls of salad on the counter and went to get them. Her stomach growled again when she saw the crisp lettuce topped with cherry tomatoes, cheese, cucumbers, and croutons.

“Dressing is in the fridge too,” he said as he slid the two steaks onto separate plates.

“Ranch or Italian?” she asked.

“Ranch. Thank you.”

She poured a bit of ranch on both salads, put the dressing back, and followed Knox to the table. He set a plate down in front of her before getting the butter and sour cream from the fridge.

“Do you need salt or pepper?”

“No. This looks wonderful. Thank you, Knox.”

He gave her a curt nod, and she had a feeling he wasn’t happy about the conversation that was about to take place between them. He wasn’t the only one. She was about to lie to him, and she didn’t like to lie to anyone, even if it was for her own benefit.

He handed her a fork and knife, and they began to eat. She groaned when the rich flavor from the first bite of steak exploded against her tongue. The man could cook. The meat was done to perfection. Moist, tender, a bit pink inside, but no blood—just like she preferred. She noticed his was a bit rarer.

“Good, huh?” He smiled and took a big bite before closing his eyes and chewing as if savoring every second of the succulent meat.

“Mmm. Yes. You are an excellent cook.” She took another bite and almost choked when he smiled and trained those hot midnight eyes on her. Her insides started to melt much like the steak had in her mouth. How could he do that to her with one simple heated glance?

“I wouldn’t say I’m an excellent cook, but if a man should know anything, it should be how to cook a steak properly.”

They continued to eat in silence until she’d eaten almost half of the food, and she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to ask him the question that had been nagging at her.

“Why did you let the lycan go? He attacked me.” She chewed as she watched him, waiting for an explanation.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and once again he trained those searing eyes on her.

Heat built slowly deep in her belly as she sat nearly mesmerized under his watchful gaze, watching his lips, waiting in anticipation for his answer.

“Because I don’t think what he did was something he had ever done before. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kill him just for touching you—would have without second thought if he had left a mark on you—but I have a duty to my race. We have to try to save the rogues with potential. The lycans are starting to die out.”

“Why?” For some odd reason she felt sorry for him, even though the demise of the lycans had been her main goal.

“I know you think you know a lot about us, but it seems that you’ve only seen one side of our race—the rogue side. You’ve based all of your feelings on the actions of the ones we are trying hard to suppress. Rogues do not represent a true lycan’s nature. Do you understand the difference between a rogue and me?”

She thought about it for a moment and realized she had branded all lycans alike—mean, brutal, and bloodthirsty—but Knox didn’t seem that way. She’d never deny he was a predator, and was sure he could and would be lethal if the situation called for it. She hadn’t missed the way the anger had burned in his eyes when he’d found her in the woods, and had been fairly certain most of it had been directed at the rogue rather than at herself. Had she allowed one instance, albeit brutal as it was, to be the precedent for her judgment of an entire race—a race she was now learning she might have badly misjudged? Yes, because she hadn’t considered the possibility that there was any other type of lycan but an evil one.

“No.”

“Rogues are lycans that have no guidance or fall into the wrong pack at a young age. They are no different than misguided, abused, or neglected kids. Rogues believe that those marked with the main scent are to be used for their own pleasure. They have tortured, raped, and killed potential mates to the point where we are on the verge of extinction. I, along with many others, am an ancient, and the ancients abide by ancient law. All potential mates with the main scent are supposed to be protected until their destined mate is found. It is essential for our survival.”

Her stomach started to churn slowly as the weight of his words came down on her. “What do you mean

‘destined mate’? And how can you be certain there is a destined mate for one who has the scent?”

He pinned her with his stare as if he was afraid she was about to run and he could hold her in the chair with his eyes. “Everyone who has a main scent also has a mated scent. All lycans can detect the main scent, which is how we know to protect potential mates, but the mated scent can only be detected by one lycan—the destined mate.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I am supposed to breed with a lycan?” She set her fork and knife down as the implication of his words made her heart pound in her chest. She’d known about the main scent from the start, courtesy of Russell, but she’d had no idea about this second scent.