In the back of the Burger King, three cars are parked side by side. They probably belong to the employees inside who’ve just started their shift.
“Collin. You can’t steal another car.”
He completely ignores me.
The hatchback’s gotta be circa 1990 or older, but it’s rust free, and it actually looks as if the owner takes care of it. The guilt in my stomach grows.
“Collin, please. We can’t do this.”
His response is to turn off the engine. “Wait here.”
He’s out of the car before I can suck in another breath. My heart is beating quickly again, and I keep looking around, convinced that we’ll be caught any minute.
But when my attention drifts back to Collin, I swear I’m seeing things. He’s holding his pointer finger near the car’s window, and the nail visibly grows in length until a thin claw emerges from his nail bed. My eyes bulge, especially when everything else about him stays the same. Using his wolf-like claw, he pries through the rubber lining the window.
I gasp when his claw connects with the door’s lock inside the vehicle and pops it up. He’s in the car leaning under the dash in less than fifteen seconds.
Dumbstruck, I fly out of the vehicle just as the new car’s engine roars to life. Wires dip from the underside of the dash—thanks to his hotwire—and a determined expression fills the werewolf’s face.
When Collin sees me standing outside of the door, he gives me a disapproving glare. “I told you to wait in the car.”
“And I told you not to steal another vehicle.”
“Then what do you suggest we do? Stay in the car we were in? Those plates are going to be on every trooper’s radar soon. It’s only a matter of time before they realize its owner is dead and that will mean we’re considered dangerous. So what do you suggest? Because the police officer who pulls us over will have his gun drawn, and he’ll shoot if I don’t comply, and I can guarantee that I won’t comply, which means I’ll be out of options. I’ll have to kill him.”
My face pales. I can literally feel the blood draining from my cheeks just as Collin curses.
Shaking my head, I clench my hands into fists. “So if I don’t go along with stealing this car, and we get pulled over in the old one and you’re forced to kill a cop, then it’s my fault? Is that seriously what you’re saying?” My blood heats at how he’s trying to manipulate me.
“Shit. No.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes. That’s a fair assessment, and you’re right. I was just trying to guilt-trip you into going along with my plan.” He dips his head, then mutters, “Old habits are hard to change.”
I blink. Was that his version of an apology?
He moves closer until he’s standing in front of me, looming like a mountain, and even though I’m tall, I have to tilt my head back.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put this on you.” He runs a finger across my cheek, his nail once again normal. The movement is so fleeting and gentle, so unlike the volatile power he’s capable of. “I don’t want to scare you, but you need to trust me. This is the only way I’m going to keep you safe from the SF, while also not harming other humans.”
My lips part, more from surprise at the tingle that’s still present on my cheek and my body’s blatant reaction to him. As much as I should be concentrating on what he’s saying and yelling at him for being such a dick, my body has other ideas.
What happened to fighting this attraction, Bri?
Even though I try to remind myself of that, it doesn’t work. Shivers run down my spine. His cedar scent, which for the first time doesn’t carry a hint of body odor, makes my head spin.
His eyes darken, turning into gray storm clouds.
When I don’t say anything, he adds, “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me? It was a shitty thing to do—to try and make you feel you would be responsible for my actions—and I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Then why did you?”
“I don’t want you to be in danger, and I’m trying to protect you in the best way I know how.”
I want to argue with him, but any fight that was left in me drains out. His apology sounds sincere, and he looks genuinely aggrieved.