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"No, but you could have warned me afterward." Forewarned is forearmed. Though in this case, I very much suspected being forearmed wouldn't matter a damn.
"Have I yet tried to curtail any of your actions?"
I gave a harsh laugh. "No. Doesn't mean you won't in the future though."
"I won't."
"And would I even know if you did?" He didn't answer and I shook my head. "You know what you've done, don't you? With that one little threat, you've put yourself into an entirely different category in my eyes."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've just leapt into the basket that contains the men who are using me for their own ends."
"Dammit, Riley, you know - "
"What I know," I cut in harshly, "is that of the three men I'm currently dancing with, Kade is the only one who has shown me any sort of companionship and caring outside the realms of sex. Do you want to know what he did for me today? He took me to a mare's place, ran me a bath, washed my hair, then he tucked me into bed, and left me alone. He looked after me, pampered me, because he damn well knew I needed it. What have you done, except reluctantly accept the sex and blood you desperately needed? Oh, and make demands, or raid my mind?"
He raised an eyebrow. "So what is it you're telling me? That I need to pamper you, romance you, to win your heart?"
"It would certainly be a damn better place to start than calling me a whore, or using threats." I blew out a breath. "Like the song says, 'Girls Just Want to Have Fun.'"
The somewhat disdainful look he gave me suggested he wasn't a fan of old-time pop music - or maybe he'd simply cruised through that era with earmuffs on, and had no idea what I was on about. I added, "Look, I offered the agreement, and I'll stick to it if you're going to get nasty about it. But just don't go expecting anything more serious than a good time. I won't play us one on one, Quinn. I can't afford to."
"All I'm expecting is the chance."
"Then you have it. But I'm warning you now - you try and force me into anything and that will be the end of us. I'll find a way around that order of yours, and I'll walk away. I will not be abused like that. I'm a wolf, not a whore."
"It is not abuse - "
"Then what else do you call forcing someone to do something against their will?"
"In this case, common sense."
"Force is force, regardless of the reason. Don't ever try it on me, Quinn. Not ever."
He didn't answer, and I just got the hell out of the room. Dusk had come and gone, and the night was cold. The wind blustered around me, its touch icy, as if it had come directly from the Antarctic. Shivering, I rubbed my arms, and wished I'd put on something warmer than a long-sleeved cotton top. At least I could be thankful I'd chosen jeans and sneakers rather than the skirt and sandals I'd originally intended. But what I wasn't thankful for was the premonition that had told me I'd need something tougher - that a skirt and sandals wasn't up to what I had to do tonight.
I didn't want another psychic talent - especially one that popped in whenever it pleased. But that same intuition said my choice in this mattered as little as my choice in other areas of my life. I was becoming something more than just a dhampire. What that something was, not even a blossoming new talent could tell. One thing was certain - I wasn't about to let Jack know. Not until I was totally sure this clairvoyance thing was a developing talent, and not some weird mutation of the fear that sat like a weight in my gut.
The restaurant came into sight across the other side of the road. I paused, gaze raking the old, Victorian-style building, searching for a glimpse of my quarry in the corner windows. Only one woman sat alone, and she was positioned at the far end of the building.
After looking around to ensure no one was near or watching, I wrapped myself in shadows and moved toward the foreshore. Streetlights cast pools of yellow across the empty pavement, and the headlights of passing cars ran across the nearby darkness, threatening to tear the shadows from my side. I stashed my clothes and shifted shape, released the veil of darkness, and in wolf form wove my way through the scrubby tea trees until I was directly opposite the window in which the lone woman sat.
She was nothing special - dark hair cut into a severe bob, a roman nose that was accentuated by a gold ring, and a large, almost manly chin. Her hands, clasped in front of her on the table, also looked more male than female. The man who'd been Mrs. Hunt hadn't been the image of female perfection, either. Was that a telltale sign of shifters who could take either male or female form?
I sat on my haunches, and wondered what the time was. It had been close to eight when I'd parked the car, and it had probably taken me five minutes or so to walk here. But if the woman at that table was worried by Roberta Whitby's lateness, it wasn't showing yet.
The wind shook the branches of the trees around me, showering the ground and me with tiny gray-green leaves. I was about to shake them from my fur when I caught two sounds - the first, a twig snapping lightly. The second, the brush of nylon against sharp leaves.
Someone was sneaking through the trees, headed my way.
I flicked my ears forward, but otherwise didn't move. Given the darkness and the gnarled trunks that surrounded me, it was unlikely that even the red of my coat would be seen. Besides, whoever was sneaking up ahead was human - or at least, in human form - and most humans took no notice of a dog, especially if it wasn't moving or threatening. Even if it was a wolf up ahead, the wind was in my favor, carrying my scent toward the ocean rather than the stranger.
Oddly enough, it didn't offer me the stranger's scent, carrying no more than the night, the ocean, and the multiple layers that spoke of the nearby restaurants, shops, and exhaust fumes.
If he was so close that I could hear him, I should certainly have been able to smell him. Unless, of course, he had no scent.
Hackles rose at the thought. Everyone had a scent - unless it had been deliberately erased.
