Last Wolf Hunting Read online

  He didn’t get angry, didn’t smile. He just stared down at her, his expression hard, rigid with lust. “You’re panicking.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’re panicking because of what’s happening here between us, and instead of giving it a chance, you want to run,” he went on, clearly warming to his theory. He pressed closer, bracing his left forearm against the wall, his other hand settling like a hot, heavy brand against her hip. “You can tell yourself you want Eric, but it’ll never happen…never stick. For one simple reason, Jillian. He. Isn’t. Me.”

  A sharp, hoarse sound jerked from her throat. “Do you even know how arrog—”

  “I know what I’m talking about,” he rasped, cutting her off in a dark, provocative drawl, long fingers squeezing her hip, caressing her through the fabric of her robe as he watched her beneath heavy lashes. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find a woman who could make me forget you?” He laughed, and the sound was scratchy, coarse…somehow damaged.

  “But they were never enough,” he added in a husky whisper, trailing his rough palm up her side, until it curved around the outer swell of her breast, his thumb sweeping out to stroke over her tight, sensitive nipple. “So you can keep telling yourself that it won’t happen, but you know it’s a lie. You want me, Jillian. You want what we have between us. You want to get it out of your system as badly as I do.”

  She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back until it banged against the wall. “God, Jeremy,” she pleaded. “Please. Please don’t do this to me.”

  The seconds stretched out as he stood staring down at her, holding her there, and then he slowly stepped away. “Okay,” he rumbled in a dark, graveled voice, running one hand back through his hair, hunger all but pulsing off him in harsh, potent waves. “If you’re going to insist on avoiding the inevitable—”

  “It isn’t—”

  He went on as if she’d never interrupted. “Then let’s get the hell out of here. This whole place smells like you and it’s screwing with my head.”

  She blinked up at him, wondering if he would forever throw her off balance. “You want to leave? Now?”

  “You go throw some clothes on, and then we can take a walk through town together. I was serious about us working together. I need to take a look around and get a feel for this place.”

  The change in focus was so sudden, Jillian felt dizzy. And looking at him now, she couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t planned it that way all along. It would be just like him. Because now the seed had been planted. No matter what she did, she wouldn’t be able to not think about what had happened, about the deliciously wicked things he’d said to her, and how badly she wanted them.

  Chapter 7

  While Jeremy waited in the living room, Jillian rushed to get dressed. Her hands shook, heart racing as she searched for something to wear. Finally, after throwing on some jeans and a sweater, then ripping her brush through her hair, she was ready to go.

  She met Jeremy in the living room, and ten minutes later, they were walking down the sidewalk together, side-by-side, enjoying the morning sunshine as it struggled to burn its way through the storm clouds that had settled like a shroud over the skyline.

  When they turned at the end of the street, heading north, he spoke for the first time since leaving her house. “That little trick with Danna last night was pretty cool. How did you take her down like that?”

  “When I heal someone, their natural shields are low and I’m able to ease their pain and promote healing by slipping into their minds and enlisting the help of their bodies. It saved my life when I discovered that the same theory applies to fighting. So long as I’m able to dodge their attack long enough that they grow tired, like Danna had, I can slip in and order their body to stop fighting, slamming a mental brake on their rage.”

  “But it comes with a price.” At her look of surprise, he said, “You nearly collapsed on me after the fight, remember?”

  Tearing her gaze away from the tender concern in his eyes, Jillian explained. “Using that kind of power takes a lot out of me, whether I’m using it to stop an opponent or healing an injury.”

  “That makes sense.” He slanted her a curious look, and the corner of his mouth twitched with a boyish grin. “So what else can you do now that you’re all grown up?”

  “Just so you know, my powers are not sexual,” she drawled, chuckling under her breath at his hopeful tone. At least not that she knew of. But how could she tell him how her powers affected her sexuality, when she didn’t even know herself? In that regard, they were as yet untapped, like doors in a house that had never been opened. Until they were unlocked—until someone had possession of the key—there was no way of knowing what waited inside.

  Jeremy rubbed his palm against his whiskered jaw. “Not sexual? Dunno about that.” He shook his hand out as if he’d touched something hot and been burned. “That kiss last night damn near fried my circuits.”

  Jillian shot him an as if look and gave a feminine snort. “I would think something as simple as a kiss would be pretty boring for a man of your reputation, Burns.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled up from his chest, but there was an intense heat smoldering in his eyes as he said, “Normally, I’d agree. But that was before I got reminded that kissing you isn’t like kissing other women.”

  “Time to change the subject,” she murmured, forcing herself to look away from him.

  “All right,” he said after they passed an elderly couple out taking their morning stroll. “So where is Eric?”

  “I have no idea.” She sighed. “I hardly keep him on a leash, Jeremy.”

  He rolled his shoulder in that way that men do when they didn’t want to look as if they cared one way or the other, but the look he cut her from beneath his lashes smoldered with intensity. “He isn’t acting the way he should, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah? And just how should he be acting?”

  He rolled his shoulder again, flashing her a crooked smile. “It’s simple. If he really wanted you, he should have planted his fist in my face the second I got within two feet of you. It’s what any reasonable guy would have done,” he delivered, so deadpan, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  Jillian was still grinning when they turned the next corner, but her smile fell the second she set eyes on the group ahead of them. A ragtag gang of teenagers lounged in front of Harris’s convenience store, their expressions dramatically indolent, full of angst and anger. Coal-black eyeliner rimmed their bloodshot eyes, and their scraggly heads were wreathed in clouds of smoke from the hand-rolled cigarettes they clenched between their stained fingers. She was trying to lead Jeremy across the street, when one of the boys turned their way and he caught sight of the words emblazoned across the front of the kid’s T-shirt.

  “Son of a bitch. Look at that.”

  “‘Simmons Rules,’” she read aloud. Feeling desperate, knowing a confrontation was inevitable, Jillian tugged on his bicep, trying to pull him in the other direction. “Come on, Jeremy. There’s no need to go looking for trouble.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured, staring intently at the group, “but trouble’s exactly what I’ve come looking for.”

  “Jer—”

  “Just wait here for me,” he rasped, pulling away from her. “All I want to do is say hello.”

  “Right,” Jillian muttered under her breath, watching as he headed back toward the teenagers. Whether his actions were borne from bravery or stupidity, she couldn’t decide. When he stood a few yards away, the group separated, revealing a Lycan in his early twenties. Jillian recognized him instantly as Dustin Sheffield. She didn’t know the young man well, but she knew of him. His father, Cooper Sheffield, was considered Drake’s right-hand man here in town, handling the Elder’s dirty work. Ironically, Sheffield also held the title of security chief for the pack. Like his father, Dustin was tall and dark, with golden eyes continually shadowed by a thin veil of hate. He was also brawnier than his group of friends, and clearly consi
dered the alpha of their ragtag gang.

  Jerking his chin toward where she stood, Dustin flashed Jeremy a cocky grin and drawled, “That’s a pretty piece you have waiting on you there, Runner. She’s always seemed kinda shy to me, but today…” His voice trailed off and he lifted one shoulder in a casual gesture, while his golden eyes moved down her body in a slow, sexual caress that made her stomach turn. “I dunno, there’s something about her. She just has that look that says she’d like to get f—”

  Jeremy’s sharp growl cut him off. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned in a lethal tone that had the younger Lycans stiffening with aggression as they spread out behind their leader.

  Dustin’s smile flashed, sharp and bright and brittle. “Aw, come on, man. You can’t blame a guy for following his instincts.”

  Jillian watched as Jeremy took an aggressive step forward. “Your instincts are going to land you in something you can’t handle.”

  * * *

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of handling,” the Lycan drawled, tempting Jeremy to knock the cocky look off his face then and there. “And you can’t touch me. In case you aren’t aware, seeing as how this is your first day back home and all, I’ll be nice and explain the situation,” he added with a challenging smirk, and at that moment, Jeremy would’ve bet his favorite body parts that the young man had already gone rogue. “My name is Dustin Sheffield. Cooper Sheffield, the pack’s security chief, is my father. My dad and Drake are close, real close—which means the League would have your balls in a sling if you even look at me the wrong way.”

  “Let me give you little piece of advice, Dustin.” Jeremy stepped closer, his mouth curled in a wry smile. “Your daddy and Drake don’t scare me. The League doesn’t scare me. And you and your scrawny little group of pals sure as hell don’t scare me.”

  “Then we’ll just have to try harder, won’t we?” Dustin murmured, winking at Jillian. Jeremy’s fingertips stung with the need to slip his claws, but he held himself in check. Now wasn’t the time to go head-to-head with the punk, no matter how badly his beast wanted a piece of the bastard for daring to even look at Jillian.

  “I’d be careful, if I were you,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, his stance as carefree and easy as if they’d been discussing nothing more interesting than the weather. “After all, I’d hate to have to embarrass you in front of all your little friends here.” He grinned then, and turned his back on the group as he headed back toward Jillian. She stood right where he’d left her, eyes wide as she kept a wary watch over Dustin and the others.

  “Jeremy, how could you just turn your back on them?” she snapped as soon as he reached her side. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Don’t worry, Jillian. They’re not going to attack me in the back, for everyone to see.” He nodded his head toward the other side of the street. “So let’s get out of here before I forget my good intentions not to fight in front of you and go back to kick Sheffield’s cocky little ass.”

  She glared at him, clearly upset, but started across the street. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” she practically growled. “What the hell do you think you were doing?”

  “My job,” he said in a low slide of words. “So why don’t you try to be helpful and explain what’s up with the shirts. Since when are rogues considered heroes around here?”

  She hunched her shoulders, crossing her arms again, her cheeks pale beneath the rosy burn of the cold. “There’s been a lot of talk lately by some of the older members of the pack about the necessity of the Bloodrunners,” she began to explain, her tone grim as she rubbed at her arms. “They say that you do more harm than good, blaming the Runners for allowing what they call the ‘oppression of the human world’ over our own way of life. Stefan Drake and his followers are responsible for a lot of it, but I don’t know why the others are so quick to buy in to his rantings.” She lifted her shoulders in a baffled shrug. “I wish I did, Jeremy. I’ve talked it over with Dylan, but we’re both at a loss. And Dylan’s hands are tied by his position. I think he’s afraid. He has to be careful what he says or Stefan will have him voted off the League.”

  She came to a stop and turned slowly toward him, her face tilted up, eyes shadowed with troubles she’d carried alone for far too long. “Despite how much we argue, the truth is that I really could use your help,” she admitted softly.

  Such simple words, and yet, the way they affected him were far from simple. “We need to work together, Jillian. We need to find the answers before things get so screwed up they can’t ever be put back in order again.”

  She shot him a searching look, surprise molding her expression.

  “What?” he asked, arching one brow.

  The corner of her mouth twitched, while a surge of wind caught at her hair. “I just didn’t think you, of all people, would want to see things put back to the way they were.”

  Jeremy reached out to hook a wayward lock of gold-spun silk behind her ear as the wind howled around them, scurrying leaves about their feet from the decorative trees that lined the street. “Are you accusing me of being an anarchist?” he asked with a ghost of a smile.

  “No.” She blinked up at him, velvety brown eyes soft and bright. “But the way things were…and still are, isn’t exactly fair, Jeremy. You were right to want to see changes when you lived here. The Silvercrest have to learn to adapt, to change, or we’re going to die out because we’ve buried ourselves in the past.”

  “Spoken like a true reformist,” he teased, following beside her as she set off walking once more.

  Her mouth twisted with a small grin, and then she changed the subject by saying, “I never did ask when your indoctrination ceremony is supposed to take place.”

  He gave a grim bark of laughter. “I decided to skip that bit of hypocrisy. No sense—”

  “It’s not hypo—”

  “Excuse me,” said an elderly voice from behind them, “but aren’t you Jeremy Burns?”

  * * *

  Together, they turned to find Mrs. Swanson standing before them, a shawl wrapped around her slim shoulders, her cloudy blue eyes troubled beneath her wrinkled brow.

  Jillian could feel Jeremy’s tension, and knew he was expecting the little old woman to hurl insults at him. Hoping Mrs. Swanson wasn’t there to cause trouble, Jillian sent the elderly Lycan an easy smile. “Yes, this is Jeremy.”

  The woman gave a sharp nod, while the scent of talcum powder lifted to their noses, combined with tea and hair dye. “Good.” She shifted her pale blue eyes to Jeremy. “I need to talk to you about my granddaughter Melissa.”

  “Is Melissa in trouble?” Jillian asked, before Jeremy could respond to the old woman’s comment.

  Mrs. Swanson’s chin trembled as she explained. “She’s been missing for over a week now. Along with some of her friends. If she’s run off with some human boy,” she groaned, “I don’t know what I’ll do. I couldn’t stand to lose my Melissa to one of them. It would be too awful.”

  A quick glance at Jeremy’s expression revealed nothing. He was wearing his “closed” mask, keeping his reactions under lock and key. But Jillian couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last in the face of such blatant ignorance and bias. “I’ll come to talk with you about Melissa this afternoon,” she murmured, “but if you’ll excuse us, there’s somewhere we need to be.”

  “You’ll let me know if you find anything?” Mrs. Swanson demanded, calling after them as Jillian all but yanked Jeremy down the sidewalk.

  “Of course he will,” she snapped through her terse smile. “Goodbye.”

  When they were out of hearing distance, Jeremy slid her a bemused look. “Just where is it that we need to be?”

  “Anywhere she isn’t,” Jillian muttered under her breath.

  “And what are you going to do when I’m out on my own?” he teased. “Won’t be so easy to keep me out of harm’s way then, little witch.”

  Despite the cold, she could feel the heat
in her cheeks. She cleared her throat, aware that her heart was pounding, that her blood was throbbing in tender, delicate places that always felt hot when she was around this particular man. “I wasn’t…I just…I think you’re going to have enough to deal with without getting caught up in all of that.” She sighed, jerking her head back behind them, where Mrs. Swanson scuffled herself down the sidewalk.

  “We knew Simmons was targeting the teenagers, tempting them to turn rogue. In some cases, even forcing them. But how many do you think are missing from town?”

  “Enough for me to worry,” she answered honestly, “but not enough yet to be able to make the League take action. Dylan has tried, but Graham and the others take so long to come to any sort of decision. And rebellion in the Lycan community isn’t exactly unheard of. Puberty is rough enough to manage without having a wolf to deal with. You know we have a high rate of teenage runaways, but they all come home sooner rather than later. Of course, now that the number of rogues seems to be growing, it’s unsettling, to say the least, when one of the teens goes missing, not to mention entire groups of them.”

  “And here that woman would probably rather her granddaughter be keeping company with those Lycans who have already turned than a human,” he murmured, his voice thick with disgust. “Unbelievable. How do you live with these people?”

  “Not all of them feel that way,” she argued, feeling as if she stood at the top of a towering precipice, with a deep ravine on either side, flanked by craggy cliffs just a leap away. All she had to do was decide in which direction she would jump…and she’d be on solid ground. But instead, she stubbornly refused to move, while the rock beneath her feet tumbled away bit by bit.