Savage Hunger(76)

Not that he was an outright werewolf—God, did those exist too?—but still, wolves often got associated with a full moon. Or did they? Maybe she was just looking for any reason to believe that in his own way Warrick had tried to tell her over the years.

“Sienna,” he said softly.

She lifted her gaze to his, but found his attention on her neck. To the place where he’d bitten her so erotically yesterday. The heat in his eyes mixed with a somberness that had her breath catching. The marks seemed to heat and throb under his scrutiny.

Reaching out, he caught a handful of her hair in his hand and wove his fingers through the strands. Then, almost as if he were trying to cover the marks, he arranged it so her hair fell over her shoulder and curved just above her breasts.

“Sienna,” he continued, his voice husky now. “There’s something you need to—”

“All right, people.” Quinton jogged up the steps and stepped into the cabin. “We’re taking off in ten minutes. Shut up, buckle up, and enjoy the flight.”

Damn the man and his timing. Sienna glared at Quinton, before trying to catch Warrick’s attention again, but he’d jerked away from her and stared straight ahead at the cockpit.

When everyone had taken a seat and the plane taxied down the runway, she asked softly, “What were you going to tell me?”

He gave a terse shake of his head. “Not right now.”

She leaned back in the seat and gave a quiet sigh, disappointment sifting through her.

Not likely later either.





The two black P.I.A.-issued vans moved down Interstate 93, staying close together as they made their way into Boston during rush hour. Warrick glanced up from the wheel of the van he drove, and checked his rearview to see the other one.

Soon the van behind them would turn off the interstate and head toward a new safe house. And their van wouldn’t be far behind them, but first they had to pick up Sienna’s dad.

His attention slipped from the road once more to cast another glance at Sienna. Even though the van was mostly empty, she sat in the far back, head leaning against the window. She’d finally fallen asleep. Which was a bit of a relief to him.

She’d been quiet on the flight to the East Coast, and he knew she probably was itching to talk about a half dozen things at least. And he kept putting her off. Quinton was the only other rider with them in the van, so a quaint little heart-to-heart wasn’t possible.

Warrick’s jaw flexed as he forced his focus back to the road and the red glow of taillights in front of him. He’d made sure that last night they hadn’t slept together, had put her alone in a room and stayed the hell away. Mostly to let her get the rest she needed after such an emotional day, but also because he couldn’t trust himself with her now.

Not that it really mattered anymore. A bitter laugh of disbelief built in his chest. Life as he knew it was gone. His career was done. His connection with the P.I.A. would be severed. All because he’d marked Sienna. He’d chosen her as a mate.

Chosen being the key word. No one had forced him to.

But there wasn’t enough time to reflect on his choice right now. Right now he needed to be tunnel-visioned on picking up Sienna’s father and getting the shifters the help they needed ASAP.

“Does she know what you’ve done to her?”

Warrick’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel at Quinton’s sudden, all-too-casual question.

“She being Sienna? What exactly are you even referring to, Quinton?”

“You know damn well what I’m referring to.”

The edge that appeared in Quinton’s voice erased any doubt that the agent had seen the marks on Sienna’s neck.

Shit. Sweat beaded cool on the back of Warrick’s neck as he cast another glance in the rearview. She hadn’t moved and her face was still relaxed from a deep sleep.

“No.” Warrick finally shook his head. “She doesn’t know. And I don’t intend to tell her.”

“Don’t you think she has the right to know?”

“I think she has enough on her mind right now. Why throw something that heavy on her?”

“Because it’s her future,” Quinton replied succinctly.

“And letting the dust settle before I tell her won’t change that one bit.”

“Unless you decide to push for her memory to be wiped.”

The anger that exploded in Warrick clouded his vision in a haze of red, making him grip the wheel hard enough to nearly snap it in half.

“I tried to stop the first one, why the hell would I let you do it again.”

Quinton shrugged. “I can’t answer that. Only theorize that maybe now you’ve had time to really think about what’s on the line. Your career. Your place in the community. Maybe you’re having doubts.”