Savage Hunger(45)

Since memory wiping had still been a couple years off back then, the woman’s life had been quietly terminated. His father, a total disgrace, had been banished from the P.I.A. as well as the shifter community. Warrick had only been two years old at the time and had been raised by a mother who’d been left to deal with her husband’s infidelity and betrayal of the community.

He didn’t remember his father, and had only seen him once after the banishment. And that was when he’d accompanied his mother to identify his body when his dad had overdosed on painkillers. But Warrick had lived with the stigma of who his father had been. Had fought to make his own path and not follow in his father’s infamous footsteps.

Every day had been a struggle, an upward climb against the elements to prove he wasn’t his father. And nothing—not a bottle of vodka or a human woman—was going to take that from him.

“I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am,” Warrick said fiercely, his expression hard. “You can be assured I have no intention of fucking it up.”

“You already have. You killed one of your kind, Warrick. Or have you forgotten already?” Quinton shook his head, his hard gaze full of accusation. “Larry Millett, forty-two years old, father of two. Dead now. By your jaws.”

Quinton’s words hit heavy, like toxic darts, into Warrick’s conscience. But Warrick drew in a slow breath and closed his eyes, visualizing the scene from last night. The wolf, unprovoked, as it attacked Sienna.

“Yes, unfortunately I was forced to kill him,” Warrick admitted flatly. “Do you think I wanted to kill one of my kind? The wolf was feral and he damn near killed Sienna. I won’t apologize for stopping him. Or for healing Sienna before she could die in my arms.”

Quinton’s leathered skin almost seemed to pale, but his eyes showed no emotion and his mouth tightened as he asked, “Do you have witnesses to the wolf’s attack?”

“Hilliard and Rafferty should’ve seen it.”

“They will need to be interviewed.”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll need to stand trial before the elders.”

“I expected nothing less.”

Quinton stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head. “You don’t want to involve yourself with a human, Donovan. It’s none of my business, but—”

“You’re right. What’s between Sienna and me is none of your business.” Warrick took a step toward the older man, done being complacent. Having had nothing but respect for him in the past, the resentment brewing in his gut now was sharp and untried. “And you should probably try to remember that.”

Quinton’s expression darkened and he looked like he wanted to say something, but then his mouth snapped shut and he gave a terse nod.

“Time to interview Miss Peters. HQ wants a report by ten hundred.”

Good luck getting anything out of her. Warrick waited for the other man to leave before getting dressed and making his way to the kitchen.

The sight that greeted him sent a wave of amusement through him. Quinton stood scowling down at the bowl of Fruit Loops on the table, while Sienna stood behind him looking pleased as all get out.

“What?” she asked innocently, her pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You said fix you breakfast. This should do.”

Quinton picked up the bowl and dumped it in the garbage. “Maybe if I was a damn squirrel.”

“Hmm. No, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to guess you’re a wolf.” Sienna murmured in a sarcastic, saccharine tone. Her gaze slid around the room to all the agents who stood by watching in amusement. “Just like every last one of you in this room.”

Warrick watched her in fascination. She wasn’t afraid of them. Seemed almost defiant and irritated. She hadn’t had a panic attack since watching the news coverage about the fire, which was surprising with the multiple incidents that should’ve easily set her off.

She was so damn beautiful. And he’d wager every man in that room knew it too. Her blonde hair was still wet, falling in unbrushed waves around her shoulders. The gray T-shirt she wore hid her small breasts, but the cotton shorts showed off too much pale, shapely leg. She looked younger than she was, vulnerable, and yet with a surprising strength that no one seemed to have expected.

“You’re right, Miss Peters,” Quinton finally replied with a casual shrug. “Myself and all the agents before you are wolves. It’s a requirement to be an agent for the P.I.A.”

“But not to work for them apparently. My father is human and seems pretty damn enfolded in your little community.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice now.