Fang kissed her and she attacked him.
Still he was cold. Empty. Where was the usual fire he felt? The driving need to be inside her.
He just felt . . .
Nothing.
She sank her hand deeper inside his jeans to cup him as she breathed in his ear. That sent chills over him, but he still had no desire to touch her.
Nipping his ear hard, she pulled back with a curse and slammed her fists into his chest. "What is wrong with you?"
Fang looked at her blankly, wishing he had an answer. Instead, he could only think of one thing. "Parvo."
She screwed her face up in disgust. "Parvo, my ass. C'mon, Fang. I don't want to mate with the rest of these losers. You're the only one I want."
"The mind is right there with you, baby, but the body . . ."
She slapped him. Hard. "You suck!"
Fang wiped the blood from his lips with a grimace. That was the biggest problem with wolfswans. When their hormones took over, they were brutal bitches. Come to think of it, the last time they'd had sex, Petra had bitten his shoulder so hard it'd bled. He even had a permanent scar from it.
She grabbed his hair and kissed him again.
Now his own anger snapping, he pushed her back. "Go slap someone else. I'm not in the mood to be bitten and clawed tonight."
She wrenched at his hair hard enough to pull a handful of it out. "It figures. You would have PMS when I'm in heat." She growled at him. "Fine. I'll go find Fury."
And may you both be mates for all eternity . . .
In hell.
It was what they deserved. Brushing his lips, which were still stinging from her blow, he zipped his pants, then sank down to the ground. He lay on his back to stare up at the dark sky, trying to find some kind of solace.
He heard a scuffle in camp where Petra must have spread her scent around to incite the others. Most likely they'd fight and the winner would take her.
But pleasing a wolfswan in heat was no easy matter. It often took a whole night and sometimes two or three others would be needed to sate her. Of course that all changed once a female mated. Then she was off-limits to any except her chosen male.
Fang couldn't believe he'd had to turn her down. Even hostile and hormonal, she was one fine piece of . . .
"What is wrong with me?"
Maybe he did have parvo or rabies. Could a Were-Hunter get that? He'd never heard of anyone contracting it, but . . .
Something had to be seriously wrong with him. The scent of a prime female in heat had never failed to stir him before. He should be in there right now, pawing it out to be the one who mounted her.
But as he contemplated that, his thoughts turned to Aimee. The way she'd looked bringing his food out to where he'd been sitting by the bikes. The way his jacket had swallowed her whole as she wore it and smiled up at him.
She'd been beautiful and kind. Gentle and sweet. Even when she'd yelled at him, she'd been . . .
Bingo. He was hard as a rock now.
Fang let out a grateful sigh. Thank the gods. At least he wasn't broken. He still worked.
Just not for Petra.
That thought made him physically ill. Oh, gah, I was better off having parvo.
"What are you doing here?"