Last Wolf Hunting. Rhyannon Byrd

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      “I want her blood,” the Lycan snarled, bucking against her husband’s weight, but for once it seemed Magnus was intent on doing what was right. He held her tightly, even as she howled like a demon, her long claws digging into the damp, giving earth. “I’m tired of you making me look like a fool!”

      “Get her out of here,” Magnus grunted, jerking his head toward Jillian.

      Jeremy stared down at the wrestling pair, the crowd riveted as they watched the bizarre events that resembled some kind of twisted soap opera. “Learn to control your woman,” he said softly, the low words firm with conviction, “or I’ll do it for you. If she comes within a foot of Jillian again, I’ll consider it a threat.”

      An odd, choking sound of outrage rattled in Jillian’s throat. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “This isn’t your fight, Jeremy, and I’m not your responsibility. I’m not your anything!”

      As if she hadn’t even spoken, Jeremy kept his stare on Danna. Her eyes were black, bottomless pools, and he realized that whatever spirit she’d possessed when younger had been slowly eaten away by hatred. Hatred for her life, her husband, her choices.

      Quietly, he said, “Don’t make me kill you, Danna, because if I so much as see you looking in Jillian’s direction, I’ll do it.”

      Then he turned, nudging Jillian ahead of him as he headed for the line of trees. He hadn’t taken two steps before she whipped around so fast that her long tangle of hair fanned out around her shoulders, looking beautiful and silky and warm in the pale moonlight. He wanted to sink his fingers into the golden strands, wanted to feel them against his skin, his face, his body.

      “I’m going to say this once, Burns. Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

      Not touch her? Not likely. In a flash of movement, Jeremy had her arms secured behind her, holding her immobile as he pressed his hard body into the lush softness of her own, keeping her trapped there against him. Lowering his head, he whispered his words into the delicate shell of her ear. “Stop fighting it, Jillian. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it seems that this little war is over.”

      “Like hell it is,” she hissed, beginning to struggle, only to stop when she realized she was merely wasting her strength. “Danna isn’t just going to stop because you told her to!”

      “I was talking about our war, Jillian. The one between you and me. But you might as well know that I won’t have you fighting.”

      She made a rude sound, telling him what she thought of his arrogance. “And that matters how?”

      He moved closer, nuzzling his nose against the silken skin at the side of her throat. “It should matter to you, little witch. Unlike the other pack males, I don’t cower before your authority. If I have to drag you kicking and screaming from this clearing, I’ll do it.”

      Her body vibrated against his. “Why?” she whispered, her voice nearly soundless with disbelief. “What is it to you if she beats me to death?”

      So many answers sat on his tongue, lying in wait, but there was only so much Jeremy was willing to admit—even to himself. “I’m pack now, which means I have a respect for the lives within it.”

      “Even mine?” she scoffed, and he could feel her battle to hold herself rigid in his arms. “You’ve grown soft in your old age, Jeremy.”

      A low, gruff laugh rumbled in his chest. “You know what your problem is, Jillian?”

      “Which one? I have several,” she huffed. “And one of them is sticking his nose into things that are none of his concern.”

      “You’ve always been my concern,” he admitted in a husky rasp—but he certainly didn’t sound happy about it.

      “Don’t,” she warned softly, glaring up at him. “Let me go, Jeremy. I need to deal with Danna. I don’t have time to play games with you.”

      “Like I was saying. Your problem,” he drawled, enjoying the shiver that trembled through her when he nudged his rigid, denim-covered erection against her bare belly, “is that you just never know when to quit fighting.”

      He could almost hear her teeth grinding. “If you think I actually want to fight her, then that just goes to show how little you know me. I don’t have a death wish, and I don’t need you stepping in and acting as if I’m your responsibility. I’ve managed to survive the last ten years without you, and I’m not about to beg you for help now. I can take care of myself.”

      “Not hardly,” he muttered. She jerked away from him, unsteady on her feet, and he suddenly realized that she was close to collapsing. “Jillian?”

      She blinked at the odd, husky note of concern in his voice. “I’m okay,” she said thickly, as he resettled his hands at her waist, his palms rough against the softness of her skin.

      “Like hell you are.”

      She pushed back the wisps of hair that had fallen over her brow, wiped the back of one delicate wrist across her upper lip. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just that using the power takes a lot out of me.”

      He didn’t like hearing that, knowing that she’d have only been able to hold Danna off for so long.

      “You can let me go now,” she said quietly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them.

      Jeremy shook his head at her stubbornness. “I don’t think so. You look ready to fall on your face.”

      She gave a soft, tired laugh. “Such a charmer, Burns.”

      “I’m not interested in charming you,” he muttered under his breath.

      “If I didn’t know better—” she sighed “—I’d think you sound as if you actually care. But we both know that isn’t true, don’t we, Jeremy?”

      He grunted, and in the next instant she was off her feet, landing with a soft whoosh against his shoulder.

      Stalking into the forest with a purposeful stride, Jeremy allowed his mouth to curl with a slow, wicked smile of satisfaction. He still didn’t trust her, and no way on god’s green earth was he going allow himself to feel anything for her. But he was tired of denying himself the thing he wanted most in this world. For whatever time he was back, he planned on having her. She belonged to him, and after tonight, his wicked little witch was going to know it.

      Chapter 3

      Jillian had the uncomfortable feeling her world had just been shifted off its axis, and it wasn’t only because she was hanging upside down over the shoulder of a gorgeous Neanderthal. No, it was the emotional meltdown going on inside of her, rioting and out of control. The farther Jeremy carried her into the moonlit woods, where the shadows thickened and the intoxicating, purely masculine scent of his body surrounded her, the more urgent that feeling became, until she was panting harder than she had during the challenge.

      You are so in trouble, Jillian.

      She shouted and threatened and seethed the entire way up the mountain, but it didn’t make any difference. The bastard just kept going, ignoring her as if she weren’t СКАЧАТЬ