Mine!
His inner wolf became restless, and paced inside him growling, howling to get out, but Knox refused to let him have free rein, knowing he would not be able to control the animal from claiming what was rightfully his.
He would never harm her, never take her against her will. He’d rather die than cause her any pain. He stared at her in awe. He’d never laid eyes on her until this moment, but he already knew she was perfect.
“No!” Her eyes flew wide open, and she tried to buck him off her again with no success. “Kill me, but don’t you dare lay a finger on me, or I swear I’ll rip your heart out.”
“I’m not going to kill you or hurt you.” Her voice—scathing as it was—was like salve to a wound, calming music to his chaotic soul.
“You’re an animal! I know what your kind does. You should be dead right now. Why couldn’t you have stayed still? A monster like you deserves to die.” Her words were laced with venom and hatred.
He laughed, but quickly subdued it when her eyes flared with anger. She’d obviously come in contact with lycans before—rogue lycans by the sound of it. The urge to take her in his arms and make her forget whatever had made her hate his kind nearly made him lose his head and let her go, a mistake that would no doubt get him kneed, or worse, again.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t stand perfectly still so you could slaughter me. The nerve of me.” He teased her, but could tell she didn’t find him amusing in the least.
“Do us both a favor, and let me finish what I started.”
“First of all, it would take much more than your pathetic arrow in my heart to kill me, and secondly, I’m not a monster. I’m just like you, more or less.” The words were a little harsher than he’d intended, but he was irritated how easily she could get under his skin and make him want to act irrationally. She’d tried to kill him, and still he wanted to let her go. If he did so, she’d try to kill him again, and he’d have to subdue her—again—
and run the risk of hurting her.
If she were anyone else, he would have already knocked her unconscious, shoved her in her truck, and would at this moment be driving back to his house for a long night of questioning that may very well end up in her death. Now that he knew she was his, he’d never be able to harm her, but he wasn’t going to let her in on that information—at least not yet.
She laughed, and even though it was drenched with scorn, the sound made his heart jump for joy. He’d never expected to find his mate, but her obvious hatred for his kind did pose a bit of a problem. He laughed inwardly . A bit of a problem. She hates me, and she doesn’t even know me. Her hatred of his kind was obviously embedded deep, and he wondered if he’d be able to convince her that not all lycans were uncaring assholes.
Well, actually, come to think of it, he was an asshole, but he’d never hurt someone for that reason alone.
Suddenly, rage shot through him at the thought of her alone in the woods hunting him. What would have happened had he been a rogue? Had a rogue already hurt her in the past, or had she known someone who had been hurt by one? Was that why she hated his kind? The horrible possibilities slammed through his brain, ignited his blood to boiling, and made his gut clench in anger.
“You are nothing like I am.” She spit at him, but he dodged the spittle as it flew harmlessly in the air past his shoulder.
Her eyes burned with fiery rage. Whatever had made her hate his kind was personal. Oh yeah, that kind of hatred isn’t born of stories from others. Either she, a loved one, or both had had an unpleasant encounter with a rogue. No lycan who hadn’t gone rogue would have ever hurt her in any way.
“No offense, lady, but you don’t know me.” He didn’t particularly care for those who judged people by the actions of others, but she wasn’t just anyone, and this wasn’t your normal everyday situation.
Everyone was different, and a particular skin color, geographic area, or stereotype didn’t apply to every individual who fell into those categories. Yet could he blame her for assuming he was like all other rogue lycans if she had, in fact, only ever encountered them? Not really.
An icy sliver of dread snaked down his spine. He’d seen the results left behind by rogues. The images were forever burned into his brain, and to think that she’d been subjected to any abuse by the bastards was inconceivable.
“I know your kind, and you deserve to die.”
“I’m sorry if you’ve had bad experiences with my type”—how much did she know about his kind, he wondered—“but we aren’t all alike.” He frowned down at her.
“Let’s call it like it is. I know what you are. You are a lycan, a shape-shifter, and you are an abomination that needs to be sent back where you were spawned—hell.”
“If you know so much about lycans, then you should know that silver won’t kill us. It’s only a myth.”
“It’s served me well in the past.”
“The only reason it’s served you well is, I’m assuming”—he glanced down at the blood covering his shirt—“most of the time you are a pretty good shot.” Had he not twisted out of the way at the last second, she would have planted that arrow right in his heart. “While an arrow in the heart is capable of killing a lycan, it won’t kill him if he can change and heal the wound. The silver isn’t what would take him out. If he dies, it’s because either the wound stops the heart instantly, or he bleeds out too fast and becomes too weak to change.”
“Are you saying all of those bastards I’ve killed over the years could have survived?” Her brows drew down, and she frowned.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them did. I would have.” He wasn’t about to tell her that the real weapon was the iron shaft attached to the silver arrow. Had she succeeded in getting it through his heart, he would have been in deep shit.
Iron was a lycan’s only weakness, but even though it was a strange coincidence that the shaft had been made of iron, it had seemed simply that—a coincidence. She hadn’t said anything about the iron, and he was pretty decent at detecting deception. He hadn’t sensed her hiding anything on that front. She had no idea. If she was pissed now, he couldn’t imagine her fury at finding out she’d had the means to kill a lycan in her own two hands the whole time.
“Get off me.”
He shook his head.
“What are you going to do with me?”
Strip you naked and have my wicked way with you. “I have no idea, but I’m willing to bet that if I let you go, you’ll be back on my ass before I can say boo.” She didn’t strike him as someone who’d give up, and he didn’t miss the murderous glare in her eyes that practically screamed how bad she wanted him dead.
He again wondered what had happened to make her so bent on vengeance, but then again, he wasn’t sure if he could take knowing. His soul called to hers. Fate had made her just for him, and if someone tried to hurt her, he’d kill them without batting an eye. He had no choice but to keep her with him, as he couldn’t allow her to go back out in the woods hunting him or another lycan. He’d never let her come to harm, and eventually she would if she continued on the path she tread.
“Just let me go, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“How come I don’t believe you?”
She growled, and the predator in him clawed to the surface again. If she knew how much he wanted to claim her, she’d probably be horrified—horrified, then appalled. Then she’d try to kill him again, or at the very least, dislodge his nuts once more. He barely kept himself from wincing, the pain in his balls still tingling from the first knee he’d taken to them.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal with the devil?” She arched a dainty brow.