"Then we'll be there, too,” Cade said. “And if you're not—"
He let the words hang, but Denny's expression suggested he definitely got the unspoken message. “Can I go now?"
Savannah nodded, and the teenager scampered, leaving her alone with Cade once again.
Oh, joy, she thought sourly. After taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she turned around. His expression was every bit as dark as she'd expected.
"If we go there tonight, the news will spread like wildfire. This woman won't show."
"So is this place just for teenagers?"
"No, for everyone, but it's recently become the ‘must-be’ place for the late teens and early twenties.” Mainly thanks to her old man's attempts to shut the place down. Nothing like a good bit of council outrage to make the inquisitive sit up and take notice.
"And what is the moon room?"
She half-smiled. “Just because the leaders of this town are against the moon dance doesn't mean all its citizens are."
"Naturally, seeing as there's a Sinclair clan living on the reservation.” He crossed his arms, and she clenched her fingers against the urge to run her fingers across all the muscle so evident under his blue shirt. “But what has that got to do with the moon room at this club?"
"It's outside city limits and on private land. Just as the Sinclair Mansion is."
"Ah. So the moon room is, in fact, a safe place where wolves can go celebrate.” He frowned. “But Denny is underage. He can't legally be at a bar."
She snorted. “Like teenagers all around the world don't get past that problem? Anyway, his mom lives and works at the bar and her brother owns the place, so technically, he's under the supervision of his parent and on home ground. And he doesn't drink."
"Just celebrates?"
She nodded. “The problem with us going there tonight is that everyone knows me. As I said, if this woman is involved in the murders or the threat, she'll hear quickly enough."
His gaze slid down her length, and heat prickled across her skin, igniting the ache deep inside. Her ni**les hardened, pressing painfully against the tough material of her shirt. She licked her lips, trying to remain calm and collected when her pulse raced so loud it seemed to roar in her ears. Lord, how she wanted him. Wanted to run her hands over his warm, hard flesh, feel the press of it against her br**sts, her belly, her thighs. To drink in his scent and his arousal and lose herself in that sexual place that contained only pleasure. No memories, no lies, just pure, unadulterated bliss. They'd had that last night and could so easily have it again, here and now.
Had she been anywhere else but the middle of a very public park, the sheer force of her need for him might have had her crossing the line she'd drawn between them. But thankfully, they weren't alone. Or secluded.
When his gaze finally rose to meet hers again, there wasn't only the thick heat of lust in his eyes, but the need to hurt, to accuse, as he had before. She braced herself mentally, felt the tightening across her shoulders.
"I'm sure you can change your appearance,” he drawled. “After all, that was one of the things you were so very good at, wasn't it? Changing your appearance to match each newcomer's needs?"
The barb cut deep, not so much because it was true, but because he still clung to the belief that she'd bedded every male at the commune. But she forced an eyebrow upwards, feigning a calm she didn't feel. “I never had any complaints."
He snorted. “Oh, I'm sure you didn't. You were so very good at your work, after all."
"Yes, I was, wasn't I?” She stepped around him, then briefly stopped and met his gaze again. “And tell me, who is the biggest whore? The woman who sleeps with a man for the sheer pleasure of it, or the man who sleeps with the woman for the sole purpose of getting information?"
"I was working undercover,” he bit back, as he followed her. “That was part of the job."
"I'm sure it was, but that doesn't actually answer the question.” She opened the car and strode around to the driver's side. “Where to next?"
Part of her was hoping he'd say the forest. The saner part was praying he didn't.
His gaze met hers, blue eyes hard, cold. Yet a shimmer of excitement ran through her. Because those eyes, for all their glacial indifference, spoke to the wildness within her.
They would go to the forest. And that wildness would be released.
"Take me,” he said, his gaze challenging hers, “to the clearing where you heard the car."
Her pulse rate soared and sweat broke out across her palms. He could smell her desire as much as she could smell his, so there was no point in feigning disinterest. And what he was doing, what he was really saying, was that it was up to her to break their agreement. Her choice; her decision. But once she did, it was all bets off.
God, she'd barely gone half a day in his presence, and here she was, breaking down. Where was her strength of will when she really needed it?