Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian 4)

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."

"No, you won't fucking won't see me in the morning. Or any other morning."

"Riley - "

"Fuck off."

With little other recourse left, I spun and walked away. His gaze just about burned a hole in my back, but I didn't look around. I strode up the street, around the corner, and across the road. I didn't see the car, only heard the screech of tires as the driver swung to avoid me. A beer-fueled male hung out the passenger window and made several crude comments.

I swore at him too, then shifted to my wolf shape. I wasn't in the mood for male attention of any kind right now - which just went to show the depths of my fury. The moon was riding high and the fever should have had some influence over my reaction to the comments and the man.

I walked on, wishing I'd parked closer. My nails clicked on the concrete, a soft tattoo that echoed in time with the anger beating through my veins. Which is probably why it took me several more minutes to realize the compulsion to go home was nowhere near as strong as it had been.

I stopped.

Go home, go home, go home. The words were still a mantra in my brain, looping round and round. And yet, like the moon hunger, it was a compulsion that I suddenly seemed able to push into the background and ignore. Why?

I shifted back to human shape. The force of the compulsion jumped back into focus, as strong and as sharp as the moon fever spinning through my veins. My feet moved forward without any real command on my part, padding along the pavement at a decent clip. Shifting back into wolf form seemed to once again ease both compulsions.

Well, well, well.

No one had ever told me that being in wolf shape would ease the fever, but in some ways, it made sense. Werewolves didn't make love while holding wolf form - at the very least, it was considered disrespectful, often an act of degradation, and, at the very worst, an act of rape. If you respected your partner, you just didn't mate in animal form. It was one of those unwritten rules every wolf, young or old, knew.

Besides, what sane werewolf really wanted to ease the moon fever in any other way besides the time-honored, human-style method of mating?

But how many people knew the force of a vampire's compulsion could actually be muted by body form? Quinn's order to go home had been embedded deep into my human brain, but wearing my wolf skin seemed to somehow transmute that order into something that could be, if not totally squashed, then at least ignored.

Which was a very handy thing to know - not that it would matter anymore when it came to Quinn. He was out of my life, whether he believed it yet or not.

The thought made me swear internally. At him, at my job, at fate in general. Dammit, why couldn't anything go smoothly?

There were a lot of things I could put up with in a relationship - hell, I'd proven that by putting up with an arrogant, self-centered asshole like Talon for so long. Quinn could be that, and a whole lot more at times, but he could also be an amazingly caring and gentle man, and so totally fun to be with. We were good together, at least when he wasn't being an ass.

But the one thing I've never liked is partners who tried to use force to make me do what they wanted. It was simply unacceptable.

And that's the line Quinn had crossed tonight, even if he'd used psychic strength rather than physical strength.

It's not as if he didn't know how I felt. I'd warned him more than once. Now I had to back those words up with action. Had to. If I didn't, he'd just ride roughshod over my entire life. Give a vamp an inch, and he'd sure as hell try to take a mile, and Quinn had proven that adage true time and again.