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“Like…” Barlow’s brow creased. “Meat?”
Meat. Wasn’t that just like a werewolf?
“You call them meat,” she said. “I call them people.”
“You want to use a person as bait?”
“What would you suggest? We’re talking were, not wolf.”
“That would mean sacrificing at least one more life.”
“I didn’t say we were going to let them get killed for the greater good. I’m not you.”
His teeth ground together again, and Alex resisted the urge to smirk. Why did she enjoy annoying him so much?
“Maybe you’d better tell me exactly what you have planned,” Barlow said.
“Person strolling in the moonlight.” Alex walked the fingers of one hand through the air. “Rogue werewolf.” She used her other hand to mimic creeping behind. Then she flipped both palms up. “Voilà!”
“Dead person.”
Alex rubbed her eyes. Amateur.
“It takes a wolf to catch a wolf. Luckily we have two.”
Understanding bloomed across his face. “What do you want me to do?”
They met in the village square, seemingly by accident.
Julian grabbed her arm, holding tight when she struggled. “Where have you been?”
“None of your business.” Alex managed to pull free, but only because he let her.
“Everyone here is my business.”
“Not me.” She turned away.
He growled and snatched her hand, twirling her back and into his arms. “Anyone watching?” he whispered.
“Anyone not?” she returned, then kicked him in the shin.
He was so surprised he let her go, then had to scramble to catch her again. Wary of her boots, he hoisted her over his shoulder without further ado and headed for his house.
“Already?” she murmured, flailing both arms and legs.
He didn’t answer, just carted her out of the square—ignoring the knowing grins of three-quarters of the village—down the street and into his house, where he dumped her onto her feet in front of the large picture window.
“You told me to make it believable.” He ducked when she took a swing at him.
“By arguing in front of everyone!” She threw up her hands, as if they really were arguing. Julian wasn’t certain they weren’t. His blood pressure was definitely on the rise. “That wasn’t much of an argument.”
“I’m the alpha.” He took a determined step closer, smirking when she took a quick step back. “There’s never much of an argument with me.”
She snorted, but when he took another step in her direction—a big one that nearly brushed them together—the laughter died, and she shoved at his chest. “You manhandle everyone who defies you?”
“Only you.”
“I’m the only one who defies you, or I’m the only one you manhandle?”
