She thinks she’s in charge. That I will be cowed by her stubbornness.
But this is only the beginning of the hunt, and as much as Juliet frustrates me, I’m still a patient predator. In the end, I will know every single detail about the infuriating woman in front of me. Every memory of her past. Every plan for her future. Every hope and dream and wish and want …
For the town’s safety, of course.
“Tell me.”
“I know there are more of you.” Juliet holds up her free hand and starts counting the facts off on her fingers. “I’m a decent hand at picking your kind out of a crowd. You all have a kind of”—she makes a vague gesture that encompasses my entire being—“vibe. Wolf-iness. Can’t really put it into words, but I feel it in my gut.” She shrugs and keeps going as I reel over her instincts. “I know about the full-moon runs and that you all are born, not made. I know werewolves aren’t slavering, unhinged beasts.” Her brows dip, and her eyes lose focus, as if watchinga scene only visible to her. “But you’re certainly capable of violence.”
That last statement rings with too much certainty for comfort. What violence has Juliet witnessed werewolves commit? I know not every pack is like Pine Falls. Each alpha protects those in their care the way they see fit, and some wolves often think that means with a heavy hand.
Did Juliet witness werewolf discipline? Did she stumble into the vicinity of a Challenge? Or worse, a Trial?
I have no idea why a human would be privy to either of those occurrences, and our senses are keen enough to know if someone is nearby that shouldn’t be. Maybe Juliet encountered a reckless pack. Or a lone wolf.
I need to know more.
“What else?” I prompt when she pauses.
“What else even matters?” Juliet purses her lips as she stares up at me. “That’s the basics. I know the basics. And nothing specific about your pack.”
Despite her claim, Juliet revealed more than what she might have meant to. She knows we have a pack structure. That’s not a detail readily apparent if she only happened upon a wolf or two.
But now we get to the important part of the interrogation.
“Who have you told?”
Her brow furrows. “Who have I told what?”
“I’m not playing games. Who have you told about us?”
Her mouth drops open before snapping shut in a frown.
“Why would I tell anyone about you?” She barks a harsh laugh with no trace of humor. “I don’t even want tothinkabout you, much less talk about you. If my life were free of werewolves, I would be in gods-damn ecstasy.” Juliet hisses the last words.
Something in my chest grinds uncomfortably, and my wolf wants to whimper a protest.
But I push those reactions aside, trying to examine this situation logically. No matter how hard her skimpy outfit and mussed crimson hair and heady lemon-paper scent make focusing.
The members of my pack know to keep quiet about our existence. They aren’t allowed to speak of what they are to a human unless the person is family or likely to become their mate. Since I’ve never smelled a member of my pack on Juliet or around her property, I can only come to one conclusion.
“You knew there were wolves in Pine Falls when you came here.”
She doesn’t deny it. If anything, the raise of her chin is a challenge.
Which means …
“You moved here for a reason.”
“I did,” she admits. Then, with a cold voice, she adds. “And it’smyreason.”
A woman who claims she wants nothing to do with werewolves moves to a town where she knows a pack exists? The logic doesn’t add up. I can only imagine one possibility.
“You need something from the pack.”
Her lashes flutter, and there’s an almost-unnoticeable downward twitch at the corner of her mouth. Likely, a human wouldn’t have seen the reactions in this dim lighting. But they are beacons for me.
And I feel my power over the situation returning. I’m in charge here. The cards are mine to dole out or keep in my hand.
