S. Yule - Lycan Vengeance

“I didn’t mean—”

Before he could tell her that he’d only meant that he was sorry he’d taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state, she scrambled off the couch and fled to the bedroom. Yeah, he was really out of practice where women were concerned. He wanted to go after her, make her listen to his explanation. He wanted her to know that there was no other woman for him, that he had barely been able to keep from ripping her clothes off and taking her on the couch as she came apart under him. Yet, he wasn’t so out of practice that he didn’t know she needed some breathing room.

He did remember that about women. Once you hurt them, give them a tad bit of space—not too much, so it didn’t seem like you didn’t care—or you’d risk cornering a spitting mad she-devil. And Rose had the skills to make him hurt, not to mention that he’d probably deserve whatever she dished out to him. He’d never lay a hand on her to stop the punishment either. He might restrain her, might hold her down—his cock pulsed again at the thought. He growled in frustration and reached down to adjust himself. The prospect of constraining her was exciting not only to him as a man, but also to the predator. The wolf craved domination.

He started down the hall, ready to ignore the giving-her-some-space rule, and changed direction at the last second, going to the kitchen instead. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair in agitation. Give her a few minutes, and then explain everything to her. He wanted to go to her now. Ten minutes. Give her ten minutes.

She was his mate, and it was time for her to know the truth. If there was any chance for them, he had to be completely honest with her. He had to tell her everything, including how iron was the true weakness of the lycans. He wasn’t a praying man, but at that very moment, he asked the gods above to make her understand the huge risk he was taking and the amount of confidence he put in her hands by telling her. Still, no matter how much information he gave her about his kind, none of it weighed on him as heavily as how she would react when she found out she was his—a lycan, the thing she obviously hated most in the world.

How would she deal with it? He now understood how her hatred had reached such depths, as he would feel no different if it had happened to him. No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. While Rose was by no means weak in his eyes, he was a man, a lycan, and would have had different choices of recourse. As a lycan, he would have been able to react swiftly and deadly, while as a human, she would have had to tread carefully, learn her foe, and deal with fear along with things she never knew existed.

But it wasn’t healthy to hang on to such hatred for so long. She had to deal with it, let it go, and move on, or it would tear her apart and do irreparable damage. He felt some relief knowing she’d gone great lengths to dealing with it when she’d confided in him. He was no psychologist, but talking about things was always a step in the right direction to healing.

Knowing that she’d never told anyone her story, never trusted anyone enough to do so, boded well for him, gave him some measure of confidence that maybe she was beginning to view him as a man and not just a monster. Or had it been the simple fact that he already knew of the existence of lycans and wouldn’t automatically think she was crazy that made her confide in him? He hoped it was more than that.

Rose paced in the bedroom. What the hell had she done? She’d almost slept with a lycan, and had enjoyed every minute of his caresses and kisses. Her body still burned from the orgasm he’d given her. She’d been ready to throw caution to the wind before he’d said he was sorry. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he was sorry? The bastard. She wasn’t sure if she was more angry or hurt at his rejection.

And why had she told him so much about the night Tammy died? She’d planned to tell him as little as possible, just enough to earn his trust. But once she’d started talking to him, everything, every single detail from that night had flowed from her as if she were confessing her deepest secret to someone she’d known forever, someone she felt comfortable with, someone she . . . trusted?

No! She had to get away from him before she made a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life. She couldn’t sleep with him. But you know you want to. Yes. She did want to. She wanted him in every way. She wanted his mouth on her while he slid that wondrous cock of his deep inside her. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist as he rode her until the force of their release crashed through them. She wanted to lie in his arms afterward while he spooned her, and drift asleep as he held her.

Ridiculous. She’d never wanted that from any man. Knox isn’t just any man. No, he’s a fucking lycan. Why was she having such a hard time remembering that about him? She grabbed her bag and decided now was as good a time as any to put her plan into action. She had to go, now, tonight, before it was too late for her heart, although she had a sinking feeling it might well already be too late.

So much had changed in such a short time, and she had some serious thinking to do. She now realized hunting the lycans hadn’t been something she’d been doing for the good of humankind, but something she’d been using as an excuse to run from her own problems. Hunting them had been an enabler, an enabler that spurred her on and fed her lust for revenge. She had to sort those problems out, get her head on straight, and decide what she was going to do with her life. She couldn’t soul-search around Knox and his judgment-

clouding gorgeous body and smoldering eyes.

The passion to help others would always be a part of her, but she didn’t think she was cut out to continue killing lycans. Killing wasn’t who she was, and while she’d be able to do it without guilt if faced with no other choice, doing it out of vengeance was taking a toll on her. It was destroying her bit by bit. She had to find a new purpose for her life, one that would bring her satisfaction and less blood on her hands.

She took off her clothes, put on some sweats and an old shirt—her choice of sleeping attire—and placed the clothes she’d been wearing on top of the duffel bag for easy access. While she was upset by the fact that

Knox had taken her weapons, she hoped he hadn’t found the ones she had hidden in the truck, or the spare key. The key was hidden well, but she knew better than to underestimate Knox. He’d proven more than difficult to pull one over on. This would work. It had to. She yanked the thin gold band from her right ring finger and slid it into the side pocket of the duffel.

Okay, time to put on the act of your life, Rose. She rubbed at her eyes until she was sure they were red and swollen, then thought about Tammy and the lycans who’d attacked them, and all the other times she’d been scared or alone or tired. Surprisingly, the tears came easily. Three times in one day—she was turning into a sissy.

She curled up on the bed and sobbed louder and louder. Finally, just when she was about to give up, she heard a soft knock on the door. She didn’t answer, certain he’d come to her rescue anyway. It was in his character, and he wouldn’t change now—especially when she was counting on that characteristic so heavily.

And the bad thing was, she felt guilty for using such an honorable trait against him.

“Rose?”

She continued crying, and soon the mattress dipped behind her. Knox’s warm hand rested on her shoulder, and for a second she wanted to forget the whole plan, curl into him, and soak up the comfort he offered.

“Tell me.” He rubbed her back in a soft circular motion.

“Go away, Knox.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Guilt ripped through her, but why should she feel guilty about deceiving him? He’d kidnapped her. Yeah, but you tried to kil him. No. She had to follow this through, needed to get away from him before he wiggled any further into her head and heart.

“I lost my mother’s ring.” She held her hand up so he could see the indention of where the ring used to reside on her finger. “She gave it to me right after Tammy was killed. I’ve never taken it off, and now it’s gone.”

“Do you remember the last time you had it?” he asked her softly.

“I think I lost it in the woods after the rogue attacked me. I was s-so cold. It must have just slipped off when I was running.”

He pulled her toward him, and she buried her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn’t see through her ruse.

She breathed him in deep, and almost sighed out loud, when the familiar woodsy, wild scent flowed into her.

“I’ll find it for you. Don’t worry. If it’s in the woods, I’ll find it.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. Her breath stilled for a moment at the sheer masculine beauty of him.

“I would do anything for you.” His lips brushed hers lightly before he stood.

“I’m so tired. I’m going to try to sleep for a bit.” She curled back on her side, and sighed when he tenderly pushed her hair from her forehead.

Why would he do anything for her? Why was he so concerned over her? It was so out of character from everything she’d learned about lycans, but Knox was a man as well. And from everything she’d witnessed, he was a kind man, but the wolf that lived inside him was a dangerous predator.

“That’s a good idea. It’ll be dawn soon. I’m going to find your ring, and it’ll be here when you wake up.”

He bent and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.