he was going to put all the gentlemanly behavior his father had taught him aside and take her, willing or not. Oh, that would teach her not to be afraid of him, he thought.
“I need to know how Leo’s pack is run,” he told her patiently, though at the moment he could have cared less. “I’d rather do that through your impressions first, and then I’ll ask you questions. It’ll give me a better insight into what he’s doing and why.”
ANNA gave him a wary look, but he hadn’t moved. She could still smell the anger in the air, but it might just have been a remnant from when Justin had been there. Charles was aroused, too—and she found herself responding to it though she knew it was a common result of victorious confrontations among males. He was ignoring it, so she could, too.
She took a deep breath, and his scent filled her lungs.
Clearing her throat, she tried to find the beginning of her story. “I was working in a music store in the Loop when I first met Justin. He told me he was a guitarist like me, and he started coming in a couple of times a week, buying strings, music…small-ticket stuff. He’d flirt and tease.” She gave an exasperated huff for her foolishness. “I thought he was a nice guy. So when he asked me out for lunch, I said sure.”
She looked at Charles, but he looked as though he might have fallen asleep. The muscles in his shoulders were relaxed and his breathing was slow and easy.
“We dated a couple of times. He took me to this little restaurant near a park, one of the forest preserves. When we were finished he took me for a walk in the woods. ‘To look at the moon,’ he told me.” Even now, with the night long over, she could hear the tension in her voice. “He asked me to wait a minute, said he’d be right back.”
He’d been excited, she remembered, almost frantic with suppressed emotion. He’d patted his pockets, then said he’d left something in his car. She’d been worried that he had gone to get a wedding ring. She’d practiced gentle ways of saying no while she waited. They had very little in common and no chemistry at all. Though he seemed nice enough, she’d been getting the feeling that there was something a little off about him, too, and her instincts told her that she needed to break it off.
“It took longer than a minute, and I was just about to go back to the car myself when I heard something in the bushes.” The skin on her face tingled with fear, just as it had that night.
“You didn’t know he was a werewolf?” Charles’s voice reminded her that she was safe in her apartment.
“No. I thought that werewolves were just stories.”
“Tell me about after the attack.”
She didn’t need to tell him about how Justin had stalked her for an hour, herding her back from the edge of the preserve every time she came close to getting out. He only wanted to know about Leo’s pack. Anna hid her sigh of relief.
“I woke up in Leo’s house. He was excited at first. His pack only has one other woman. Then they discovered what I am.”
“And what are you, Anna?” His voice was like smoke, she thought, soft and weightless.
“Submissive,” she said. “The lowest of the low.” And then because his eyes were still closed she added, “Useless.”
“Is that what they told you?” he asked thoughtfully.
“It’s the truth.” She ought to be more upset about it—the wolves who didn’t despise her treated her with pity. But she didn’t want to be dominant and have to fight and hurt people.
He didn’t say anything so she continued her story, trying to give him all the details she could remember. He asked some questions:
“Who helped you gain control of the wolf?” (No one, she’d done that on her own—another black mark against her that proved she wasn’t dominant, they’d told her.)
“Who gave you the Marrok’s phone number?” (Leo’s third, Boyd Hamilton.)
“When and why?” (Just before Leo’s mate stepped in and stopped him
“I need to know how Leo’s pack is run,” he told her patiently, though at the moment he could have cared less. “I’d rather do that through your impressions first, and then I’ll ask you questions. It’ll give me a better insight into what he’s doing and why.”
ANNA gave him a wary look, but he hadn’t moved. She could still smell the anger in the air, but it might just have been a remnant from when Justin had been there. Charles was aroused, too—and she found herself responding to it though she knew it was a common result of victorious confrontations among males. He was ignoring it, so she could, too.
She took a deep breath, and his scent filled her lungs.
Clearing her throat, she tried to find the beginning of her story. “I was working in a music store in the Loop when I first met Justin. He told me he was a guitarist like me, and he started coming in a couple of times a week, buying strings, music…small-ticket stuff. He’d flirt and tease.” She gave an exasperated huff for her foolishness. “I thought he was a nice guy. So when he asked me out for lunch, I said sure.”
She looked at Charles, but he looked as though he might have fallen asleep. The muscles in his shoulders were relaxed and his breathing was slow and easy.
“We dated a couple of times. He took me to this little restaurant near a park, one of the forest preserves. When we were finished he took me for a walk in the woods. ‘To look at the moon,’ he told me.” Even now, with the night long over, she could hear the tension in her voice. “He asked me to wait a minute, said he’d be right back.”
He’d been excited, she remembered, almost frantic with suppressed emotion. He’d patted his pockets, then said he’d left something in his car. She’d been worried that he had gone to get a wedding ring. She’d practiced gentle ways of saying no while she waited. They had very little in common and no chemistry at all. Though he seemed nice enough, she’d been getting the feeling that there was something a little off about him, too, and her instincts told her that she needed to break it off.
“It took longer than a minute, and I was just about to go back to the car myself when I heard something in the bushes.” The skin on her face tingled with fear, just as it had that night.
“You didn’t know he was a werewolf?” Charles’s voice reminded her that she was safe in her apartment.
“No. I thought that werewolves were just stories.”
“Tell me about after the attack.”
She didn’t need to tell him about how Justin had stalked her for an hour, herding her back from the edge of the preserve every time she came close to getting out. He only wanted to know about Leo’s pack. Anna hid her sigh of relief.
“I woke up in Leo’s house. He was excited at first. His pack only has one other woman. Then they discovered what I am.”
“And what are you, Anna?” His voice was like smoke, she thought, soft and weightless.
“Submissive,” she said. “The lowest of the low.” And then because his eyes were still closed she added, “Useless.”
“Is that what they told you?” he asked thoughtfully.
“It’s the truth.” She ought to be more upset about it—the wolves who didn’t despise her treated her with pity. But she didn’t want to be dominant and have to fight and hurt people.
He didn’t say anything so she continued her story, trying to give him all the details she could remember. He asked some questions:
“Who helped you gain control of the wolf?” (No one, she’d done that on her own—another black mark against her that proved she wasn’t dominant, they’d told her.)
“Who gave you the Marrok’s phone number?” (Leo’s third, Boyd Hamilton.)
“When and why?” (Just before Leo’s mate stepped in and stopped him
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