Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

The thought faded as awareness suddenly prickled across my skin. The woman wasn't the only one being followed.

I resisted the urge to look around and flared my nostrils, drawing in the scents of the wet night and rifling through them quickly. And there it was in the undernotes-a scent I recognized. A wolf who obviously wanted to be found, because he knew better than to be caught upwind of another hunter.

"I know you're there, Kye," I said softly. He wasn't close, but I'd knew he'd hear me anyway.

There was no response, no sound of quickened footsteps, but that wash of awareness grew stronger until he fell into step beside me.

It took you long enough to realize it. His mind voice might be cooler than the night itself, but his presence was so, so hot.

It felt like I was walking beside a furnace, and a whole lot of me wanted to snuggle right up to it. And not just because I was cold.

That's because you've only just moved in direct line of scent. Which was a guess on my part. I'd like to think I'd been in this job long enough now to instinctively "feel" when I was being followed.

Which might not be the case, but hey, a girl has to dream a little.

You might never have realized I was there, otherwise. This time his mental tones were laced with amusement that sent a delicious tingle all the way down my spine.

God, what was it with this wolf? I couldn't exactly blame the moon heat anymore, because the full moon was over for the next month. So why did Kye-someone I didn't want to like-have my hormones dashing around so excitedly?

Maybe Liander was right. Maybe my wolf soul had had enough, and was putting her foot down to demand equal loving rights.

Maybe I was just hoping that like all bad smells, you'd eventually go away.

I don't smell bad, and you know it.

He was right, he didn't, but there was no way on this green Earth I was going to admit it.

What are you doing here, Kye?

Same thing as you. Following a target.

The woman up ahead isn't the woman who was in the warehouse with the zombie and the hellhounds, so I repeat the question-why are you here?

He glanced at me then, his amber eyes cool and judging, weighing his options, sizing up the opposition. The tension that rolled through me was part fear, part a readiness to attack.

Probably for the same reason you are. I suspect she's involved with what is going on, but have no proof.

And if he got proof, he'd kill her. I resisted the urge to rub the chill from my arms, although I was no longer sure if the cause was the cold or the man. This wolf might have me in a spin, but he repelled my saner half.

Because in him I saw a reflection of myself-a reflection of the killer Jack wanted me to be.

He was everything I was trying not to become.

And for that reason alone, I'd fight this damn attraction as hard as I could. I didn't need a constant reminder of the future that might be mine.

If you kill her, I replied, wondering how much he actually knew-and whether I should risk doing a full read of his thoughts. We may never get that proof.

Which is the reason, he said softly, that I merely follow.

So no killing tonight?

He met my gaze again, and a slight smile teased one corner of his mouth. It didn't reach his eyes. Didn't warm the cold depths. No killing tonight.

Good. I paused. Does this mean you're going home?

I said it in a hopeful kind of way, and his smile widened. Despite the continuing chill in his gaze, the night suddenly didn't seem as cold anymore.

My wolf soul, it seemed, wasn't going to give up this attraction very easily.