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“A war between humans and shifters will happen one day,” said Donnie. “Not out of prejudice, but out of fear. Humans have always feared what they don’t understand, but they didn’t feel too threatened by shifters when they thought there was only a handful of breeds. Each year, it becomes clear that more and more exist. They’re starting to worry they’re outnumbered and outmatched. The war will eventually happen, and we’re all being trained for it.”
“Trained?” Marlon echoed, doubtful.
Donnie’s lips thinned, a signal that a paranoid rant was coming on. “Have you not noticed how many video games are war-themed these days? It’s the government preparing kids for war. The kids play online with their friends, communicating using headsets—similar to what soldiers do in the field. The games are always graphic, getting the kids used to blood, guts, and gore. The games don’t just feature simple guns; no, there’s a whole array of guns available to the kids—the government is actually educating them on weaponry!”
Gwen spoke, “Donnie—”
He slapped a hand on the table. “I’m telling you, the powers that be are basically creating soldiers and assassins. And look how many of those war-themed games are focused on killing zombies. The government is training kids to kill monsters, and then they send the message that shifters are the monsters. It’s all propaganda. The kids are being brainwashed and—”
“Donnie.”
His expression cleared as he looked at Gwen, all anger gone. “Hmm?”
She sighed. “Are you all right?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.” He went back to his food.
Looking at Donnie in pure fascination, Bracken told him, “You made some good points.” The two males then went on to further discuss the matter.
Amused despite herself, Gwen inwardly rolled her eyes. Feeling the heat of Zander’s gaze, she looked to see him once more completely focused on her. His face was blank, but his eyes were alive with an almost electric intensity that gave her goose bumps. Heat rose to her cheeks, and her lower stomach fluttered and clenched as a sliver of need snaked through her. His mouth quirked, as if he’d sensed it.
Well, if he could sense her need, Bracken would soon sense it too—yeah, that would be too embarrassing. Done with her food, Gwen pushed to her feet. “I’m gonna take a shower and then head to bed. ’Night, everyone.”
Zander gave her a look that said he’d see her soon. She nodded, letting him know she was done running. Personally, she still found it baffling that he seemed so attracted to her, but she wasn’t going to fight it. A girl had to eat.
Upstairs, Gwen took a long, refreshing shower, trying to ignore the giddy flutters in her stomach. It wasn’t easy. She could honestly say that she’d never been giddy at the prospect of sex before. Enthusiastic, yeah, but not giddy.
Maybe it was because Zander was a shifter, and she knew she was about to experience something wholly new. Maybe it was because he wasn’t a virtual stranger to her—she didn’t know him, true, but she also didn’t have the emotional distance from him that she liked to keep between her and her partners. He’d been doing his best to eat up that distance, to get to know her. While part of her panicked at that, another part of her liked it . . . mostly because not many outside her foster family had ever cared to really know her.
Once she’d finished her shower, she stepped out of the stall and wrapped a lush towel around herself. After towel-drying her hair and dragging a brush through it, she walked into the bedroom. And stopped dead. Sitting on the edge of her bed, like he belonged there, was Zander.
Her stomach bottomed out. He looked . . . hungry. Ravenous, even. And so completely out of her league. Yet, he was here. For her. And as he stared at her like a predator measuring its prey, her mouth dried up and her nipples tightened.
She cleared her throat. “I locked that door.” Which meant he had lock-picking skills. She’d have to note that for future reference.
He slowly leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Drop the towel.” It was a soft, rumbly command, and the sheer power and authority in it almost made her jump.
Gwen swallowed. Wow. He’d switched all his natural intensity on full blast, and the room suddenly seemed too small. Too hot.
“Drop the towel, Gwen,” he ordered, his tone low, deep, almost hypnotic; it also brooked no argument. There was a glint in his gaze that could only be described as dangerous. There was also the promise of something more there. The promise of a sense of satisfaction that she’d probably never experience from one of her own kind. All she had to do was drop the towel.
It would be hard to do that, since she sort of had a death grip on it. Why? Because she sensed now that taking this further would mean handing a good deal of control over to Zander. She wasn’t good with that. But wouldn’t it be nice to let go for a little while? Everything had been so tense lately, so serious; she wouldn’t mind a little escapism.
Her heart stuttered as he rose from the bed and slowly began to stalk toward her. He had this cool, dominant, forceful energy going on that made everything in her stand up and pay attention. Heat and intensity drummed at her skin as he came to stand before her.
His finger traced the edge of the towel, breezing over the swell of her breasts. “I want to know what’s under this towel. Show me, baby.”
Pushing all self-conscious thoughts aside, she loosened the towel. Approval glinted in his eyes. And when the towel dropped to the floor, those eyes raked over every inch of her, smoldering and glittering with a raw, powerful need that made her breathing deepen.
A growl seemed to vibrate in his chest. “Beautiful.”
Um, no, she wasn’t. Never would be.
He skimmed his nose along her jaw, breathing her in. “And mine to play with.” His eyes tracked his movements as he drew his fingers along her skin, tracing and shaping her, hands lingering on every curve just to tease her.
Honestly, Gwen wouldn’t have expected such a light, noninvasive touch to rev her engines. It was like her skin was supersensitive. She was hot. Edgy. Needed more. And when his hands slid down to lightly cup her ass, she arched into him. “Zander—”
His mouth landed on hers. He didn’t devour her like he had the night before. The kiss was soft. Sensual. Almost leisurely. But even as he sipped from her mouth, Gwen felt his need hammering at her. Somehow, he was keeping it in check. She didn’t want that. She was human, but she wasn’t made of porcelain.
