"You're not cold?" she asked.
He'd had a faraway expression in his face, but at her question, Gentry frowned and looked down at himself. "Oh. Uh, I'm used to living in cold temperatures. My body adjusted a long time ago." He zipped up his pants and fastened his belt like that would convince her.
"Right," she murmured suspiciously, stepping up onto her porch. "Well, thanks for dinner and, you know … after." At least her cheeks were warm.
Gentry stayed on the bottom step but still wouldn't look at her. He ran his hand roughly over his head. "I had fun."
Blaire pursed her lips at how detached he sounded. "Me, too," she murmured. "Night, Chaos."
The corner of his lip quirked up, and he flashed her a bright-eyed look. "Night, Trouble."
He turned and strode for his cabin, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the woods to the left, and his breath freezing on every exhale.
She turned to go inside, but Gentry called over his shoulder, "Hey, Blaire?"
"Yeah?"
"If you're into macaroni, it's happening at eight in the morning before I head into town." His wicked grin was back as he stood in the middle of the shadowy parking lot.
He was giving her a charming smirk that probably got him whatever he wanted with other women. Dangerous territory, that one.
Blaire leaned on the railing of her porch and played coy. "I'll have to check my schedule."
He narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Probably best if you're busy. I'm bad news for a woman like you."
"What kind of woman is that?" she asked, trying not to let her teeth chatter.
His grin slowly grew. "A good girl." He gave her a wink and turned, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he gave her his back and walked to his cabin without another look.
Oh, that man knew what he was doing. He knew how to play games. For a moment, she'd thought she was the feline, but he'd reminded her she was the tiny mouse instead. He'd known the exact thing to say to dare her into joining him for breakfast. Call her a "good girl," and everything in her wanted to prove him wrong, especially after what they'd done tonight.
"Hmm," she hummed, narrowing her eyes as he closed the door to his cabin behind him.
She had the marrow-deep feeling that for the next week, Gentry Striker was going to be a beautiful distraction from the mess her life had become.
Chapter Five
What the fuck had possessed him to do that? He'd jizzed all over her like a dog marking his territory. And in a way, he was! His wolf thought that was a great idea, spraying her stomach like that. He hadn't meant to do it, though. He'd meant to keep her clean, but when it came down to it, she tasted so good, felt so warm and soft against his body, smelled so damn good, made those sexy little bedroom noises every time he touched her, he hadn't been able to stop his wolf. Shit! He couldn't lose control like that again. He'd been fighting his inner animal half the time they were fooling around. And he was letting his armor slip. She'd asked him about the cold not affecting him, but she hadn't bought his excuse. He could tell. Blaire was a smart woman. She would figure him out quick if he didn't get control of himself.
Kissing her? It was against werewolf law to mix with humans, and he hadn't even made it a damn night before he was on her like a rutting animal.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Wolves didn't fool around with humans like he was doing with Blaire. She wasn't supposed to call to him, and yet here he was, pacing the living room, completely consumed by thoughts of her.
Okay. Settle down. There is a logical explanation.
Dad just died a week ago. Gentry was spiraling, in a place he hated, pissed at his brothers for staying MIA, and he was horny as fuck. Yeah, that was all this was. He would bring them back around to the friend zone tomorrow, keep his dick far away from her, and in six tiny days, she would be gone forever.
A long snarl blasted from his throat that he had to swallow down. He was breaking apart! Gentry needed to do something because pacing the living room wasn't helping, and he had another boner just thinking about the way Blaire's tits had looked all covered with his semen. God, he'd wanted her so bad. He'd wanted to be buried balls deep inside her more than he'd ever wanted anything. It was a miracle he didn't go too far. No, fuck that, he'd still gone too far. He'd kissed her and touched her and made her come twice, and then he'd freaking marked his territory like an animal. And she wasn't his! Not even close. Could never be his, so again, what the fuck was he doing?
He wanted to kill her ex for making her feel invisible, and he didn't even know the asshole. He wanted to feed her, and not macaroni like he'd joked. The first thing he'd done when he came back in was pull out a sirloin from the freezer to thaw because Blaire deserved steak and eggs and food fit for a queen. She was a queen. Classy but with a secret freak-side he found so damn sexy. Would probably make cute little red-headed pups. No, not pups-she was human. Something was wrong with him, or broken. And, hell yeah, he was panicking. He'd never even met another werewolf who hooked up with a human, and here he was imagining Blaire holding his firstborn kid. Fuck!
Gentry needed to Change.
His entire body was humming and felt like it was being shredded. This was going to suck with a healing rib, but there wasn't any help for it. He would never sleep until he let the wolf roam the winter woods outside.
He undressed on his way to the back door, leaving a pile of jeans and boxer briefs in his wake. Outside, the snow prickled against his bare feet, but it still wasn't uncomfortable enough to make him wince. He froze and listened. Blaire's soft voice was so quiet behind the walls of her cabin he could barely make out her humming. She was happy.
Good.
"Stop caring," he growled out to his asshole wolf. "You're going to get us killed."
And worse than that, he was going to get Blaire hunted. A relationship would be dangerous for both of them. Werewolves didn't go too far off the beaten path. Not even rogues paired up with humans. It was taboo. It wasn't just frowned upon either. It. Was. Forbidden.
Breeding with humans would be the end of the species. It would mean no more werewolf pups being born. It would mean exposure to other humans and certain death in some government testing facility somewhere, or as war-dog weapons in human wars. There were rules in place for a reason, and Gentry believed in the need for those rules.
Bullshit.
"Fuck you."
His spine cracked, and Gentry bent in on himself suddenly. His wolf was punishing him by crippling his body and Changing slowly, breaking one bone at a time and drawing out the pain.
He gritted his teeth against the urge to grunt. That would only make Wolf happy. He hated when it was like this, when he and the animal were fighting. It was times like these that Gentry realized just how much control Wolf had.
Minutes of torture dragged on, but still Gentry refused to cry out. He wouldn't give Wolf the satisfaction, and the last thing he needed was for Blaire to come out and investigate a strange noise. He hadn't made it far enough away from the house and was breaking apart in the snow just on the edge of the back porch light.
Those minutes felt like an eternity, but at long last, the pain subsided, and Wolf lay panting and whole on a layer of ice. His fur kept him warm from the stiff wind, and he could smell everything, see everything, hear everything. Blaire was singing a bluesy song about a man falling from everything to nothing. She didn't sound unhappy, though, despite the song choice. Pretty voice. She would make a good she-wolf. Pretty howl. Too bad his bite wouldn't turn her. Only ten percent survived the bite, and most of them were men. His bite would poison her for three days until she passed away in a slow death that would turn any witness's hair gray.
He wasn't supposed to kiss her for a reason. Werewolves liked to bite when they fucked. The instinct had been there tonight, overwhelming almost. All it would take was one hard kiss, a bleeding lip just deep enough, and he would be the death of her. Fragile humans. Easily poisoned. Easily killed.
He couldn't be the death of her.
Wolf stood and shook snow from his coarse, gray coat.
He wouldn't hurt her. The woods blurred by as he loped through the thick trees and brush. He couldn't hurt her. She was his to protect from the Bone-Ripper Pack. At least for a week. He wouldn't bite her too hard. He would be gentle with her always if it meant he could keep her.
We can't keep her, Wolf. The human side of him was Logic.
But Wolf was Instinct. Wolf was Want and Desire. Fuck you, Logic.