Aimee wanted to cry in frustration. But the one thing she knew about pigheaded men . . . there was no way to change their minds. "Fine. Don't believe me then." She let go of his sleeve and held her hands up in surrender. "I don't even know why I bothered."
"Why did you bother?" He moved closer to her. So close she was dizzy from it and all she really wanted to do was tuck herself into his arms and feel him hold her.
The scent of his skin filled her head. She could feel the warmth from his body. . . .
Every piece of her sizzled. There was no other word for it. Maman was right, there was no mistaking this. This was the quickening she was supposed to feel-the overwhelming lure to mate. That one elusive sensation she'd been trying so hard to experience with her kind.
And Fang was the only one who made her feel it.
Damn.
She ground her teeth before she answered with the truth. "I didn't want you angry at me."
"Why not?"
"I don't know." But she did know and that was the most upsetting part of all. She wanted him.
All of him.
He reached for her. Aimee stood still, wanting that touch. Needing it.
But she couldn't. This is so wrong. . . .
It would crush every person who meant something to her. Everyone she loved.
Stepping back, she bit her lip. "I need to get back and check on Wren. He doesn't do well around other people or animals."
"Neither do I."
She swallowed, then forced herself to vanish.
Fang stood there in the darkness, savoring the last remnants of her scent on the breeze. He wanted to howl over it.
Most of all, he wanted to track her down and ease the pain inside him that wanted to savor every inch of her lush body.
His breathing ragged, it took all his control not to chase after her. But she'd made it clear that she was off-limits to him. He would honor that.
Even if it killed him.
Looking down at the bulge in his jeans, he decided that outcome wasn't as far-fetched a thought as it should be.
Stone was captured by the bears . . . again."
Eli Blakemore looked up from the book he was reading to pin a menacing glare on his son's second in command. What was his name? David? Davis? Donald? Dreck?
It didn't matter. He was born of lesser stock anyway. Unlike his lineage, the Arcadian before him came from some unknown Apollite half-wit Eli's ancestor had experimented on.
Eli's bloodline came straight from the king of Arcadia himself-from the king's eldest son, no less. That distinction had been impressed upon him from the moment of his birth. Theirs was a sacred duty to show the plebeians how to behave and to police the animals his ancestor should have slaughtered the moment they were created.
And he'd be damned if a group of Katagaria mongrels was going to touch his illustrious son.
Rising to his feet, he set his book down with a calmness he didn't feel. "Have Varyk come to me."
The wolf gulped audibly. "Varyk?"
Eli gave him a tight-lipped smile. Varyk was the most lethal werewolf ever born. A natural-born killer, Varyk would be the tool Eli would use to destroy that nest of filth that had infested his city. He was sick of those bears and all they represented.
It was time they took back New Orleans for once and for all. Sanctuary was going to burn to the ground.