“Is that what you think of me?” Aidan finally asked. “That I’d kill your brother?”
She would be honest with him. They both deserved that. “I think you’re an alpha werewolf and, as you’ve told me yourself, you have an instinct to attack vampires.”
His hands had fisted. “You just fucked me.”
Um, yes. She didn’t need a reminder of that. Her body still ached in interesting places.
“You just fucked me, and now you’re accusing me of plotting to murder your brother?”
Oh, shit. Definitely pissed. “I didn’t accuse you!” Just to be clear. “I asked, okay? I asked because I’ve been scared as hell that you will go after him. And I’m scared—scared because no one else knows about him. He has a normal life. One that doesn’t include me and my craziness. I want things to stay that way for him.”
Aidan glared at her.
She glared back.
“You don’t trust me.” Hurt flickered on his face, just for an instant.
“No, I do trust you.” This was the part that hurt her. “I trust you to do what’s best for your pack. That’s what an alpha does, right? The pack comes first, I know that. So if you were to think that my brother was a threat…” She couldn’t finish.
But then, she didn’t need to do it.
Aidan understood. “You’re more important than my pack. You should know that.”
She wanted to believe him. But…Their relationship was so screwed up. So why does it feel right when I’m with him? Why do I keep wanting him so much? Needing him?
“Drew is hundreds of miles away. He isn’t a threat. Just forget about him.”
Aidan didn’t speak.
“I have to go.” She grabbed her jacket. “The ME will be waiting on me. I just—sorry for shooting you,” Jane mumbled and rushed for the door. Her fingers closed around the door knob. She expected Aidan to stop her.
He didn’t.
He must be really pissed.
She opened the door, but looked back at him. He wasn’t even glancing her way. He was staring down at the photo. That old picture of her smiling with her brother. She’d been younger then, maybe twenty-one. Twenty-two? That was the last time she’d seen her brother.
For damn good reason.
“Promise me.” The words slipped from her. “Promise me that you won’t kill my brother. No matter what happens.”
His fingers tightened around the frame. But then, as if catching himself and remembering just how much strength he truly possessed, Aidan very carefully put the frame down on his desk.
“Promise me,” she continued. “And I will give you anything you want.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “What don’t I already have?”
“I don’t know.” More chill bumps were on her arms. “But think of something I can give you. Something you don’t have to take.” She stared at him a moment longer. “Good night, Aidan.” Then Jane slipped away.
***
Aidan glanced back down at the photo on his desk. A smiling, happy Jane stared back up at him.
Drew.
I will be finding you.
He hadn’t promised Jane. Mostly because he hated to make a promise that he wouldn’t be able to keep. If her brother proved to be a threat, to either Jane or to the pack…
I will deal with him.
And as far as the thing he wanted…the thing he couldn’t take…
He couldn’t look away from the bright smile on Jane’s face.
One day. If he was patient enough, if he fought hard enough, he would have exactly what he wanted.
***
The werewolf alpha was sending his dogs after the woman.
Vincent Connor eased back into the shadows as his prey marched out of Hell’s Gate. He’d been watching that noisy bar for a while. Humans had gone in, werewolves had acted as if they owned the place—probably because they did—and no one had noticed the vampire lurking outside.
Because he hadn’t wanted to be noticed.
Normally, werewolves would smell his kind, but he’d taken a little precaution to ensure no one would scent him before he headed to Hell’s Gate.
It hadn’t taken a big leap of knowledge to realize that Aidan Locke would keep Mary Jane Hart close. When you had a prize like her, you didn’t let her stray easily.
Mary Jane left the bar, not looking back. She walked fast with hard, angry strides that almost made Vincent smile. Not that he’d had a whole lot to smile about in the last century or so. Too much blood. Death.
Boredom.
Mary Jane wasn’t boring to him. Quite the opposite.
When she left, two werewolves followed her. Sure, they looked like humans, but he knew better than to be fooled. He could tell that they were beasts just by the way they walked—that predatory stalk was obvious. The way the men would stop every few moments, their heads stiffening, their necks shooting up as they sniffed the air around them—dead giveaways.
The two werewolves kept Mary Jane in their sight as she hurried through the city. And he—well, he followed them.