What This Wolf Wants(27)
She made a frustrated sound at where her libido was going and appealed to Jackson one last time. “Can’t you use the sprinkler system on them?” Dean had them installed at the bar and the wolf compound not only for fire protection but to use when the wolves got out of hand. Once turned on, the sprinklers sent out a powerful stream of water, achieving similar results as throwing a bucket of water on two fighting dogs.
“What? And ruin the pool tables?”
Jackie clenched her hands into fists just as another body landed on the pool table. Under the force and combined weight of two large men, one of the table’s legs gave out. A loud cracking was heard just as the table slanted down and to the rear of the room. “You’ve already lost one table.”
Jackson shrugged. “One’s cheaper than four.”
Exasperated, Jackie hopped down and headed for the back of the crowd.
* * * *
Zan sensed movement behind him and caught Joe out of the corner of his eyes jumping to his feet. Full of adrenaline, frustration, and the dark anger that had bloomed hard and hot after Jackie walked out on him yesterday, he swiveled around on the balls of his feet, intent on doing more bodily harm.
Even as something screamed and clawed deep inside to stop, his raised arm moved to deliver a slashing blow. His wrist was caught in a vise at the same time the red haze was ripped from his eyes. Jackie stood in front of him, her head angled back, her smaller hands now wrapped around his wrist the only reason his momentum stalled.
Shear horror flashed across Zan’s face in the nanosecond it took for him to realize that his extended claws were barely an inch from Jackie’s neck. The surge of fury was still twisting in his gut, only now it was aimed at himself.
He’d always been easy-going with a zest for life, yet with a steel core of right and wrong. Over the years his personality had changed, becoming darker. With each mission, whether a search and rescue or a termination, a blackness had slowly filled his soul. Hate at the evil in the world, anger at the loss of so many innocent lives, and despair at ever finding that one woman meant for him and him alone.
And she’d scorned him. Him! Because they were incompatible? How could she even say that? Just when his innate happiness had started to peak through again he’d been flung into a maelstrom of confusion and that ever present hate. He’d wanted to destroy something, or someone, and when that ignorant ass’s comment had reached his ears, Zan had found the perfect opportunity to let loose his anger.
Maybe starting a fist numbing fight in his brother’s bar wasn’t the right thing to do, but it was better than nothing. And since he couldn’t toss Jackie over his shoulder, trot off to the nearest cave and set about changing her opinion of him in mutually satisfying carnal ways, he’d relished the chance to blow off some tension.
Only any tension release had quadrupled back at seeing how close his razor sharp talons where from Jackie’s tender flesh. “Oh, fuck.”
Silent, sparks flashing in her eyes, Jackie twisted and dropped low, throwing her left leg out behind his knees, knocking Zan off balance. Then she flipped around and brought her right leg up, planting a mighty roundhouse kick right to the middle of Zan’s chest, releasing his wrist at the same time. Zan hit the ground with a loud thump, clouds of dust billowing in the air from the impact. The force of the blow would have caused a human to go into cardiac arrest, but for a shifter? Zan just lay there contemplating the wood beams of the bar’s ceiling.
Breathing might have been a bit difficult at the moment, but he could think. Admiration for her quick reflexes and instantaneous retaliation warred with shock and fear at what had almost happened. If Jackie had caught his wrist a second later...
Vaguely he wondered who had taught her those moves, not sure if he wanted to kill the individual responsible or thank him.
When Jackie’s face appeared over him he tried to apologize. To let her know he would never, ever hurt her. And will she might believe that, what could he say about being in a bar brawl. That he’d only been defending her honor? He’d been jealous? That he’d wanted to slam his fist into that drunk, moronic Eddie jerk because her name had passed from his lips?
Maybe she was right. He was an aggressive, proud, dominant shifter riding the ragged edges of sanity. He was strong enough to hide his restlessness from so many, yet weak enough to give in to his beast’s wild nature, as this very fight would indicate.
Maybe Jackie was right. Maybe they wouldn’t be a good match. While she was far from a submissive, she didn’t have his deep seeded need to hunt and maim. What she did have was a classic beauty that floored him, a touch that soothed him and a body that fit his like a missing puzzle piece. Though intellectually he knew part of it was the mating heat, it was more than that which caused his blood to boil, his body to ache with lust so intense that he felt on fire.