Man, he was one sick pervert. He’d dragged her here in handcuffs, and now he was eying her like she was his own walking pin-up girl.
She finished buttoning the shirt, and he pointed to the bedroom. “Bed. Now.”
“Wh-what?” The word sounded as if she were straining for air.
He pointed to the gun still holstered at his hip. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Bed. Now.” He gave her a small nudge between the shoulders, and she shuffled toward the bedroom. He wiped his hand off like she was contaminated. Every time their skin touched an electric current jolted his body, leaving him with a strong, powerful feeling, like a freshly recharged battery.
Princess froze when she reached the mattress.
He placed his hand on his gun, ready to draw. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get on the bed.”
Without warning, she spun around and charged him, knocking into him full force and toppling them both to the ground. Shit, he should’ve put the cuffs back on her. She threw a punch and hit him square in the jaw. He grabbed her fist and pushed her away. Damn, she packed a punch. She struggled against him, holding her own better than many male werewolves he’d fought, but he shoved her hard. He had his own supernatural advantages. From the startled look in her eyes, she hadn’t expected his strength. She scrambled into a crouched position and paused just long enough for him to pull his gun.
He pointed the barrel straight at her head. “What the hell are you thinking? I told you not to try anything,” he growled. “Make this easier on both of us and do as I say.”
She stood as he simultaneously rose to his feet, gun still pointed straight for her. “Get on the bed. I swear, if you do anything else, I will put one of these bullets right through your skull. Don’t make me do anything we’ll both regret later.”
Her eyes grew wide as she inched toward the mattress, her hands up in surrender. “You’re not going to—”
He sighed. “I may be holding you captive, but I’m no rapist. I spend my days hunting and killing werewolves, not sleeping with them. Now, get on the damn bed. Just because I won’t take advantage of you doesn’t mean you won’t be first on my shit list if you don’t cooperate.”
She climbed onto the bed.
“Wrist,” he mumbled. She lifted her arm and he slapped the cuff on, hooking it to the headboard to chain her in place. “Don’t try anything stupid while I get the other one.”
He wandered into his closet and retrieved his only other set. When he returned, he caught her pulling against the cuffs. “I thought I told you not to try anything stupid.”
“I think sitting here and doing nothing would’ve been more idiotic. You can’t expect me not to fight.” She stopped fiddling with the cuffs and shot him a glare. “You’re so lucky I can’t shift.”
“Why do you have to be so uncooperative? Usually, following the orders of someone who’s threatening to kill you is a good idea, but you still keep challenging me.”
“At the moment you’re not threatening to kill me, you’re just standing there.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t push my buttons. I don’t have time for your crap.” He walked to the other side of the bed. Grabbing her wrist, he cuffed her free arm to the other side.
She writhed and fought against the restraints in between breaths. “And you think I have time for this? I have a life. Unlike you, I spend my time doing constructive things rather than hunting down innocent people.”
Jace strolled over to his trench coat and dug his flask out of the pocket. “Innocent? I found you at a murder scene. Your innocence is somewhat questionable.”
“We both know I didn’t do it. I was looking for the killer,” she said. “I told you. No blood, no weapons and no male equipment.”
He meandered into the “kitchen.” “You think I don’t know that? If I thought you did it, you’d already be buried six feet under.” The Bushmills sat at the front of the cabinet. He grabbed it, poured some in the flask for later and then carried the whole bottle back to the bedroom. “You may not be the killer, but how can I trust that your goal is the same as mine?”
“My goal is the same. Why else would I have been in that alley? If you know I didn’t do it, why the hell are you holding me?”
“To get to the Rochester packmaster.”
Her eyes widened, and she blinked several times. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He took a swig from the whiskey bottle. “No, I’m not. That son of a bitch Frankie Amato has got another think coming if he thinks I’m gonna take care of business for him. Every night I’ve been patrolling, looking for the sick fuck who’s hurting these women, and are any of his men out searching? No. There should be werewolves prowling everywhere, if not to help, then at least to cover his ass. Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone in the Rochester pack is doing this.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so biased and hateful, you’d realize that Frankie is trying his best. I volunteered to search for the killer.” Her nostrils flared as she exhaled a long breath. Her anger reminded him of an animal in fight mode—powerful and stubborn.
He scoffed. “Oh, so he sends a lone female werewolf to do his work? Where are the rest of you?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to endanger his pack members.” Her full lower lip quivered and contradicted all the fire in her eyes.
“Better werewolves than innocent people.”
She froze as if he’d stabbed her in the chest. Her cheeks flushed as her shock boiled into rage. “How can you say that? We are people.”
Jace gulped more whiskey. “Infected people.”
“We’re not infected. We can’t turn anyone into—”
“Maybe not someone who’s already been born. You can’t infect them, but a fetus, you sure can. What about all those freaking babies that you harness with your curse from birth, huh?”
The image of his father haunted his mind as he spoke—his old man’s handsome features, which resembled his own, twisted and snarling with anger as he slapped Jace’s mother around. But the worst: after all the abuse the bastard had forced his mother to endure, he’d strolled out the door and left them with nothing but scarred memories and broken lives.
Jace lowered his eyes to the floor; he could still smell the summer rain mixed with the city’s scent from the night his father left.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be one of us. How do you know it’s a curse? Some think it’s a gift.” She tugged against the cuffs, her face filled with raw pain.
“How do I know?” He started to laugh and brushed his fingers through his hair. “How do I know?” He set the bottle on the ground and stalked toward her, his gaze fixated on her large, chocolate-brown eyes. She pressed closer to the headboard as he leaned onto the bed and positioned himself over her. A shiver of power shot down his spine, and he allowed the beast to take the reins. “Because it’s my curse to bear.”
She gasped as his green, human irises transitioned to golden wolf eyes and reflected in her gorgeous stare.
CHAPTER FOUR
DESIRE BILLOWED THROUGH Frankie as she stared into the hunter’s wolf eyes. This can’t be happening. He wasn’t human? Shit. The flash of gold she’d seen in his eyes earlier hadn’t