He shoved the sweater my way again. I crossed my arms and pointedly ignored the offer. I had clothes in my car if I wanted them. I didn't need his, no matter how deliciously warm they might smell. "Why would I be driving home?"
"Because you need to shower and rest."
"And what will you be doing while I'm showering and resting?" I knew exactly what he'd be doing. I just wanted to know if he'd actually admit it. Admit that he was mollycoddling me yet again. I mean, hell, yeah, I was bloody and sore and in desperate need of a bath, but it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last. And it certainly didn't stop me from doing my job.
It was scary to think I now actually considered being a guardian my proper job. Lord, how things had changed.
"I'm going to be taking care of our magician." He placed the sweater on my shoulder.
I shifted my shoulder and let it slip to the ground. "Not alone, you won't be."
His obsidian gaze seemed to be growing darker, deeper, until it felt like I was falling into a tunnel - a tunnel I could so easily, so willingly get lost in. This vampire might not be my soul mate, but that didn't mean there wasn't something good between us. Something special.
An alarm went off somewhere in the back of my thoughts. I blinked, but the sensation of being caught by the darkness of his eyes didn't go away.
"You will go home, Riley," he said softly, "and you will rest."
The tunnel seemed to be getting deeper and deeper, until it was all around me, swamping me, overrunning my will and my mind. All I could see was the coal-dark depths of his eyes and all I could hear was his words. The compulsion to obey them swam through me, beating at my skin, my nerves, my brain. So much so that I actually took a step back before I realized it. It took a whole lot of determination to stop a second step and remain still.
I knew then what he was doing.
Anger hit, fast and furious, momentarily weakening the force of his command. I slammed down my shields and severed the mental connection between us, but it was too late, far too late. The compulsion had already been embedded into my consciousness, a desire that beat at my senses with every rapid heartbeat.
I clenched my fists and resisted the urge to scream and rant and rave at him. It took every ounce of control I had to simply say instead, "Don't do this."
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't do what?"
My hands were clenched so hard my fingernails were beginning to dig into my palms. The pain helped keep my anger in check, and the compulsion momentarily at bay.
"Don't play me for a fool, Quinn. I warned you once what would happen if you ever tried to use your vampire wiles on me, and I meant every word."
He looked away for a second, studying the street behind me, his expression calm, giving little away. If anything, that very lack of expression only increased the fury rising inside me. I hated the fact I could never read him as well as he could read me.
Hated the fact he was forcing me to a decision I never wanted to make. And an action I never wanted to take.
He looked back and said, "I'd rather have you angry and alive, than dead." His fingers touched my cheek, his skin so warm against mine. "Be sensible. Go home and be safe."
I resisted the urge to press into his caress and jerked my face away instead. "No. And all you're doing is proving you still don't trust me."
"I trust you. I just don't believe you or the Directorate can handle these people."
"You can't go after these people alone."
"I destroyed them once. I can do it again."
"Quinn - "
"No," he interrupted tersely, "I have lost too many people I care about in the past to evil such as this. I will not lose you as well."
His command still beat inside my brain, growing in intensity, until every muscle trembled with the need to obey. I wouldn't be able to resist it for much longer, and we both knew it. "Even at the cost of never seeing me again?"
He smiled. "You're a werewolf. You can no more deny great sex than you can the moon change."
I stared at him for several seconds, shocked that he could even thinly that. And at that moment, I not only hated what he was doing, but I hated him.
It wouldn't last long - couldn't last long, because it was really only anger, not hate itself. But the words hurt, regardless. Did he really think so little of my integrity that he thought a good fuck could cure me of all concerns? Did he really think I wouldn't go through with my threat? "You have a whole lot to learn about werewolves, matey. Or at least this one."
"Go home, Riley. Rest and recover from your wounds. I'll see you in the morning."