As his lips had caressed her shoulder, she’d waited. Ached. Needed to feel his teeth there.
His touch was an addiction.
She was seeing that now.
What they called Mating Heat was a compulsive, overpowering drug. One taste. One kiss, and she’d become something, someone she wasn’t.
She wasn’t a lover. She’d known that since the day she’d been told she couldn’t have one and still avenge her brother’s murder.
Hips swaying, her body moving sensually as languid need burned ever hotter inside her, Gypsy railed at herself for her decision that night.
She’d given to him, given him everything only to learn that everything was either too much or not enough.
“We should go.” Ashley’s suggestion had her eyes opening as she lifted the beer to her lips and sipped at it lazily, her gaze raking over the club.
“Why?” The Coyotes weren’t here yet. She still had information to get.
If the Unknown didn’t want it, then she knew many, many groups still involved in routing out the hidden labs who would want it.
Hell, Jonas would want it.
She could just work for him.
The thought was almost amusing.
“Because it’s nearly dawn?” Ashley drawled, her tone amused, her eyes flat and hard.
Gypsy let her gaze wander over the club again, her skin suddenly prickling with a latent warning of danger. She could feel it stroking against her flesh with an icy stroke.
“Bye-bye.” She waved back at the three girls as they seemed to share a concerned look. “Catch you at the next party.”
She wasn’t going anywhere.
Sleeping with Rule wasn’t nearly the compensation she would have imagined for giving up her entire life. What the hell had made her do something so irrational to begin with?
Mating Heat should be outlawed anyway. It made a woman’s heart do things that her head knew was inadvisable. Things that hurt worse than facing the loneliness.
The music shifted, pounding harder, faster. Turning from the three girls, Gypsy opened her eyes once again and found herself confronted with a broad, male chest.
It wasn’t Rule’s chest.
Her gaze lifted.
Lifted.
Wow, now this dude was fucking tall.
And he was pissed.
Six feet six if he was an inch, super long black hair pulled back in a low ponytail and Celtic green eyes. Eyes so bright, so lacking in warmth or mercy that they were like a frozen sea.
“You are becoming a nuisance, Ms. McQuade.” And his voice was like serrated gravel, rough and sharp with a deadly baritone.
“Oh God, we’re dead.” That was Sharone behind her.
“Will we get that lucky?” Emma sounded completely terrified.
“We’re screwed. He’ll tell the alpha . . .” Ashley was actually whispering in the sudden silence of the club.
“Stop already!” Gypsy turned on the three girls with a furious hiss before turning back to the guy with freaky-as-hell too-green eyes. “Who the hell are you anyway?”
“Their worst nightmare if you don’t leave this establishment this moment,” he stated firmly, frozen sea green eyes gleaming icily back at her.