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“Old habits die hard.” Jace glanced toward the rearview. “Rather demanding for a suspect, don’t you think? Besides, we both know a fight like that isn’t going to kill you. You wolves are pretty damn indestructible.” He fought back a near laugh. He knew that all too well, didn’t he?
And for what? To prove that he could? He scoffed.
“I’m no one’s suspect.” She glared at him in the rearview mirror.
Jace raised a single eyebrow. “Then what do you call those cuffs there?”
A deep scowl crossed her face, but even with an angry frown, she was still beautiful. “I’ll get out of here, and the first thing on my to-do list will be ripping your throat out with my teeth.”
“Feisty much?” One side of his mouth lifted into a half grin.
“Kiss my ass.”
“Gladly.” He smirked.
He checked the mirror; a blush bloomed across her high cheekbones, strong enough to show through her golden skin. She was likely some kind of Mediterranean descent by his guess, despite the fiery red undertones in her dark hair. His heart jumped, revving to life like his car’s engine. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the steering wheel before he bumped his fist against it again. He needed to focus.
Damn it. She was killing him. She’d been around maybe twenty minutes, and already he regretted every decision he’d made thus far.
“What’s your problem with my kind, huh?”
An electric shock zoomed down his spine at the sound of her voice. Why? It was just a voice? He grumbled. “Suspect, remember? That means you’re supposed to be quiet.”
“I won’t shut up until you gag me.”
His eyes shot to the rearview. “That can be arranged.”
“Try it,” she taunted.
From the growl in her tone, he’d likely lose a finger or two.
She smiled, and in the mirror’s reflection, he saw her long canines. He ran his tongue across his teeth—he had a pair of his own.
Sexy.
The word rang through his mind before he could stop it, and he instantly hated himself all the more. He thought of his mother’s face: the purple and yellow bruises that marred her porcelain skin and the wrinkles around her eyes as she sobbed. That was the night his sorry excuse for a father had walked out, leaving her unable to provide for her rapidly growing son, and slamming Jace with a lifelong curse. Damn. He wasn’t right in the head, fantasizing about one of those monsters.
And as if his self-hate wasn’t enough, the sound of the she-wolf’s voice coming from the back seat taunted him, poking fun at his agony by driving him wild.
Kiss me or I’ll die.
“You know, I—”
He stomped on the Chevelle’s brakes, and the car jerked. Princess toppled halfway into the front seat, and only his death grip on the steering wheel stopped his forehead from colliding with the dashboard.
“Ow! What the—”
He turned to her, eyes narrowed. Her mouth snapped shut when she met his gaze. His wolf stirred beneath his skin.
“Enough. Let’s get something straight. Unless you want a forty-caliber lodged in your skull, I suggest you keep your mouth zipped up nice and tight. Got it?”
She shook her head, the movement almost imperceptible, so much so that it looked like she was trembling. Maybe she was. Shit. She peeled herself off the floorboard and retreated to her spot without another word. He hit the gas again and sped toward the division’s warehouse four blocks away.
The small sniffle he heard behind him ripped at his heart. He tried to ignore it and focus on driving. Another sniffle. He couldn’t help himself. He checked the mirror.
Angry tears streamed down her cheeks, staining her perfect face. Her legs were hunched up to her breasts, and she stared at the floor. She was naked and vulnerable, and he’d just issued her a death threat, but...something told him the emotion wasn’t real.
“You expect me to believe those crocodile tears?”
