Page 56 of Heat Lightning

Dangerous. This was dangerous. Anyone could walk by and see the commotion. I hadn’t parked far enough away from the scene, and I hadn’t checked for security camera angles.

All the things I usually planned meticulously went out the window. I was losing control.

Weber’s nostrils flared. “You smell like him. I remember it; he was delicious. What was his name? Mike? Mack?”

Fuck. I’d also forgotten to change so that exact thing couldn’t happen. I bared my teeth.

“Max,” he said with a nasty grin. “That was it.”

I snarled. “Keep his name out of your filthy mouth.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Clocking that he was under my skin, Weber smirked. “Did you just want him for yourself? Is that what this was about? You could’ve asked to join in. I would’ve happily given you a turn after I’d fin⁠—”

I saw red, and punched the hilt of the knife into his temple so hard his head bounced off the brick. He crumpled to the ground with a groan.

Kill him, my alpha snarled. Kill him and present his dead body to our mate. Show him we can protect him, we can defend him.

With fucking delight.

Except, he didn’t deserve a quick death, and Max wanted to see his final moments of fear. Vision still red and pulsing, I cocked my head to the side and planned.

I’d knock him out and throw him in the trunk. I knew a few spots along the shore that were remote enough no one would hear him scream. I’d pick Max up and go somewhere so we could take our time. I’d open Weber up from gut to throat, reveling in his pain until he bled out all over the ground, and then weigh him down and dump him in the lake, where no one would ever find him.

Yes, that would be good.

Then mate will want us again, my alpha whined. He’ll see how good we are at keeping him safe and spend his heat with us and give us pups and we’ll be a pack, and you can knot him every day.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I burned with acute, desperate want, and it all started right now. I angled the knife, heart racing as I readied myself to hit him in the head again, anticipating his delicious screams⁠—

The back door of the diner swung open with a clang. “Joey!” someone called. “What the fuck is taking so long? Get back in here.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I backpedaled into the shadows, leaving Weber in a heap on the ground.

“Tell him I said hello,” he wheezed with a taunting grin.

Rage rippled through my muscles. It bubbled over, and I stabbed my knife into one of the trash bags he’d hauled outside, ripping a giant hole in the side until spoiled food spilled everywhere. Doing the same to the other, I left him to clean up the mess with a curse.

Spiraling out of control, I at least had the presence of mind to ensure he wasn’t following me before I made it back to the car, again roaring into my hands when I slammed the door shut.

What was wrong with me? Hunting was the one thing I was good at, and I’d fucked that up tonight, too. I’d let him taunt me into revealing too much and acting before I was ready.

I’d let my own fantasies get in the way of reality.

My breaths came shallow and quick. I hadn’t hyperventilated from the adrenaline dump of taking out a target in a long time; not since those first early kills, when I was so afraid of getting caught I was a wreck for days after.

Then, I had someone to center and focus me. The ice to my fire. The chilling calm to my storm. I dug my phone out of my pocket, thumb hovering over his name on the contact list, before I sighed and locked it, tossing it into the passenger seat in defeat.

That was a long time ago. Priorities shift, as they should. He had far more important things to protect now, and my chosen calling was only a liability.

So, I worked alone. There was no one to call to help me calm down. No one to hunt with, and no one to help me through this rut.

Feeling more lost and alone than I had since I was a boy who just wanted to get ice cream with his mom, I drove off into the night.

FIFTEEN

MAX