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I narrow my eyes. “Other than me?”
He doesn’t take the bait I dangled so easily in front of him. “There has to be some old rivalry or tension here that would explain motive, but I can’t even keep the Houses straight.”
“That I can help you with.” Grabbing my drink, I push to a stand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” He unfolds his lanky frame like it’ll take him all day to stretch to his full height. Every woman’s gaze in the bar turns to watch him.
A flush runs over my skin at the unwanted attention. Seriously, that’s the only reason. It has nothing to do with his sexy self. “The Gorgons put labeled House photos in the bar’s back hallway for the tourists.” Plus, taking him back there to gawk at pictures will get me out of the sudden spotlight with everyone’s eyes on us.
He ambles behind me, his boots making a slow, steady thump. Add some spurs and the man could star in the old Western movies that my parents used to watch together, snuggling on the couch. Stop. I can’t let the past muddle my head, can’t give in to grief. Not for anything. Certainly not with the cowboy cop following me, probably ready to swoop in on any weakness I might show.
I wrap anger around me like a security blanket, but it chafes instead of comforts. “Aside from your victim profile and the arrowheads, how do you link my death to the murdered shifters?”
“The brutality and manner of the kills.”
“Yeah, I got that. What else?”
He doesn’t offer any further explanation for why he wants to make me relive my worst trauma. Moseying along the hallway, studying each framed photo, he acts as if I’m not there. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin and demand answers when he taps the photo of Devlyn and her team. “You sure the arrowhead couldn’t have come from the Huntresses?”
“You heard Kiva. She asked Devlyn and she said the arrowheads didn’t come from them.”
“What if the Huntress lied?” He cuts a side eye my way, a fierce look that has my insides heating. Damn Tisia for putting love potion ingredients in my drink. “To protect herself or her House, she could’ve, right? I mean they obviously don’t like wolves.”
I clear my throat, concentrating on his question instead of how he moves closer. “No, the Huntresses are a lot of terrible things, but they have an impeccable reputation for honesty. They’re open with their awful.”
He makes that same non-committal noise. “If someone here in Syn City is the killer I’m chasing, you’re in danger as the one person who might be able identify them.”
“If the shifter murders are connected to my family’s—and I’m still not convinced of that—then like I told you, I didn’t see anything.”
The dreadful warning in his gaze sends a chill through me. “But the killer or killers don’t know that.”
“You can’t scare me.”
“You sure about that?” He trails his fingers along my bare arm, skimming in the lightest touch, and my breath stills in my chest. “Neither of us can handle what my wolf wants from you. It terrifies me.”
“Bring your worst.” My fighting instinct screams to bat his hand away, to yell at him to get the hell out of my space and out of my town, but I can’t move. No, instead of listening to logic, I freeze and stare as his gaze goes amber instead of warm brown. My heart races, but otherwise, I’m motionless.
“Oh, I’ll bring my very best.” Nolan leans closer, his wolf eyes locking on my mouth before flaring golden. “Final chance to fly away, little Fury.”
“I don’t run.” The rest of whatever I’d meant to say about cowardly wolves and fairy tales and grandma’s house dries on my tongue. He scents the air as if I’m prey, and it makes me shiver for all the wrong reasons.
“Good to know.” His grip tightens on my arm, hauling me against him. Then his mouth crashes down on mine. He presses me against the wall in a hungry, deep, all-consuming kiss that tastes of beer and man. The growl in his throat has me wanting to crawl up him, around him, inside him. I can’t get enough of Nolan freakin’ Bankston.
I’m so screwed.
7
NOLAN
Kissing Sadie burns me from the inside out. I can’t slow the need that has me pushing her against the wall, ready to take anything and everything she’ll offer. She tastes of honey sweetness and angry heat. When she slips her tongue against mine, the woman’s rage and craving rolls into unyielding demand. I’ll give more, more, more until we both drown in desire.
She moans into my mouth, and my wolf wants to devour the sound. All the air rushes out of my lungs. My world tilts and fixes on Sadie as its center. Vivid colors unwind from her in a sea of muted grays.
The mating call howls within me—a bright and shining hope that hauls me out of the darkness and hurt that has haunted me for three long years. I need Sadie to claim me, to accept me, to want me. No matter what lies I might have to tell her.
I’m lost in her, and I’ve no wish to be found.
In my jeans pocket, my phone rings and buzzes like a bomb set to go off. She whimpers, moving away enough to allow a sliver of cold between our bodies.
