“It’s not in my nature to believe anything a lycan says. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you.” She was sorry too.

Something inside her wished that he was just a normal man because even against her own nature, her own better judgment, she was drawn to him. She wanted to feel his caress, his lips on hers. She’d never been with a man. She’d dated a couple of boys before the incident with Russell, but after that, there hadn’t been time for a personal relationship. Up to this point, she hadn’t really thought much about it, or figured she’d missed out on anything, for that matter. Knox was making her feel differently, and while her mind screamed at her that it was wrong on so many levels, her body begged otherwise.

If she gave in to him, she’d never forgive herself. She’d betray her best friend’s memory and everything she’d fought for. She couldn’t welcome the enemy into her bed, yet her breath hitched in her lungs when his midnight blue eyes glowed down at her. Her heart stuttered, and all the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this evaporated into thin air when his lips brushed hers. Fire shot straight between her legs, and a dull ache built low in her belly.

His lips caressed her gently, barely touching her, as if coaxing her to accept him. He pushed the towel off her head and tangled his fingers in the hair at her nape, tugging her closer. “I have to taste you.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her. His lips were firm but soft, and she moaned when his tongue danced along the seam of her mouth. He ignited an instant flame in her, and she strained toward him. When his tongue dipped inside and tangled with hers, fireworks shot off behind her eyelids, and she opened to his possession like a flower opening to the first rays of sun.

He tasted wild, erotic, dangerous . . . safe? He confused her. He excited her. He inflamed her, but when his other hand trailed along her bare thigh, she froze. Her eyes widened, and she pushed at his chest. Her breaths came in ragged gulps, and she pressed her hand to her wet, kiss-swollen lips when he didn’t budge against her insistent shoving.

“Stop thinking just for one minute, Rose, and feel. You responded to me. I felt it.” He wrapped his fingers around the hand she had pressed against her lips and brought it slowly to his mouth, where he licked and nipped gently at her palm.

Heat infused her once again, and she leaned toward him, mesmerized by how soft his lips felt. How could he make her feel this way? Had she deprived herself of sexual experiences to the point that her body was no longer willing to play by her brain’s rules? There was surely no other explanation for letting a lycan touch her.

He nipped her again, and when she gasped, his mouth shifted from her hand and fastened on her lips.

The floor dropped out from under her, and she began floating in a swirling fantasy of heat and desire only

Knox could show her. His tongue probed at her and slid deep before retreating and returning again. He expertly coaxed feelings from her she hadn’t known existed, a tempestuous yearning that had lain dormant within her, waiting for the right man to awaken it.

She now clutched the front of his shirt with no further thoughts of pushing him away, and the hand he didn’t have tangled in her hair slid down her back and cupped her rear. He dragged her against him as he insinuated his thigh between her legs. She cried out when a delicious pressure built against her core and a rush of desire drenched her sheath, instinctively readying itself for his possession. She tilted her hips toward him, and he kissed his way to her ear.

“That’s it. Take pleasure from me, sweetheart.”

Her head fell back, and she peered up into his face from under half-closed lids. His eyes glowed so bright she was mesmerized by their beauty for an instant before her mind jerked her back into reality. Her body screamed for her to let him continue touching, but her brain wouldn’t allow her to take pleasure from someone who was supposed to be her enemy.

She stiffened and could see by the look in his eyes that he was aware she was no longer welcoming his caresses. Her lip curled, and she practically snarled at him.

“Don’t ever touch me again, Knox, or I swear I will kill you.”

“You can’t deny the chemistry between us. It’s too strong.”

“There is nothing, nor will there ever be anything, between us. Please get out.”

She barely suppressed the urge to squirm under his hot gaze while he watched her for several minutes before he finally left the room and shut the door behind him. She plopped onto the bed and willed her racing heart to calm down. What had she been thinking letting him kiss her and touch her like that? Horny. That’s what you were thinking. She had to find a way to get away from him and fast.

She couldn’t risk getting entangled with the enemy. If she could find some way to escape him, she’d run without a backward glance. He would be one lycan who would get away, because she would never get near him again.

* * *

Knox leaned his head against the door of the bedroom he’d just vacated, or more appropriately, had just been kicked out of. God, Rose was the sweetest thing he’d ever put his mouth on. He could still taste her on his lips. The subtle, yet unmistakable, muskiness of excitement his kiss had elicited from her had told him that she hadn’t been as unaffected by him she’d like him to believe. But how would he ever convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy? He let out a frustrated breath and started down the hall to the living room.

Telling her everything was the only way he could think to earn her trust. If he could show her that not all lycans were monsters, maybe she’d begin to understand and see things in a new light. Maybe she’d be able to trust him. Besides, if he didn’t trust her, how was he supposed to expect her to confide in him? Whatever had happened in her past to make her hate his kind so vehemently had been monumental.

He’d have to earn her trust somehow, and telling her about his kind was the first step. Without trust there would be no hope for any kind of relationship with her. Even he knew trust was the most important part of the foundation between a man and a woman, and he would do whatever he had to do to show her he deserved her loyalty.

It was going to be a mighty bumpy road. The lady was bitter. Rogues had to be responsible for her deep-

seated hatred of his kind. What had happened to her? He couldn’t think about it too much because the possibilities sent blinding rage boiling through his blood. In fact, at this moment he wanted to beat the shit out of something. No, not something—a bloody rogue.

He waited until he could hear the soft, even breathing of Rose sleeping in the other room before he pulled the clean T-shirt he’d changed into earlier while she was showering over his head and shoved his jeans down his legs. The bandage he’d slapped over his wounds haphazardly to keep them from bleeding through his shirt stuck a little too well, and he winced when several of the hairs on his chest came off with it when he removed it. The wounds were already mending well, but he’d been looking forward to shifting to heal them the rest of the way.

He stepped out into the cold night air and inhaled deeply, welcoming the familiar and soothing scent of evergreen trees, snow, and the coming storm. The wolf in him crouched, ready to spring free, to run wild. He welcomed the wolf. It was part of him, had been for his entire life, and they worked well as a team. He snorted.

It wasn’t as if the wolf was a separate entity living inside him, always ready to get out. It was more like he had a split personality.

Yet, that wasn’t exactly the right terminology either. While a man, he used the wolf’s instincts, power, cunning, but as a lycan, his human side withdrew more and let the predator have the reins.

He would never hurt anyone in wolf form—he’d never hurt anyone period unless absolutely necessary—

but he was wilder, freer, all dominant animal when shifted.

He closed his eyes and let his lycan blood start the change. His fingernails elongated and twisted into claws that could rip the underbelly of a deer open in one smooth swipe. Since he was an ancient and capable of partial change, he could change as slowly or quickly as he liked. Rogues were not capable of partial change. An ancient in partial change was, at times, more lethal than one who’d shifted completely. Half lycan, half man was not an easy target to take down.

He breathed in deep, welcoming the tingling of his skin as fur popped through every pore, as incisors elongated into fangs, as his muscles, bones, and tendons rearranged themselves to take wolf form. It didn’t hurt to change—only the first time hurt—but every change was an intense emotional ride. It was as if part of him was being stolen—an integral part of him, like his very essence—but just as the overwhelming urge to cry out from the loss took root, the essence was slammed back into him. It was as if each time he changed, the two parts that made him who he was tore apart and then knitted back together, the wolf part dominant while in lycan form.

It wasn’t something he could easily explain. It was just one of those things you had to experience to understand the full meaning, like death.

He stood for another moment before shifting completely, and jumped off the porch into the snow as the last golden hairs sprang through his skin. He howled as he ran over the snow-covered ground into the thick-

treed forest, the wolf excited to be free. The wounds on his chest were already healing, and within seconds the last pricks of pain were gone.