Twilight Hunter

The large metal entrance to their haven slammed in its frame, cutting him off. The cold air of the unheated warehouse hit Jace hard. He exhaled and watched his breath swirl in the overhead light, like steam from his anger. His thoughts flashed through the night’s events, and he frowned.

Mutilated dead girls, a pissed-off werewolf hunter and a naked vixen. Not a good combination.

* * *

DAVID SAT DOWN at his desk and stared at the back of Damon’s head after Jace stormed out. Another meeting, another “my dick is bigger than yours” contest between Jace and Damon. They might as well pull their cocks out for everyone to see so they could settle the battle once and for all. Damon’s constant harping on Jace’s every move was getting old.

David crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you have to bust his balls like that? You know it only makes him want to challenge you more.”

Setting down his pen, Damon looked up from his paperwork. “David, it would serve you best to keep your mouth shut.”

David threw up his hands in surrender. Man, was Damon good at overreacting. “Look, I’m just trying to promote some camaraderie here.”

Damon turned and glared at him with his piercing, ice-blue eyes, then returned to his reports. “When I want your input, I’ll let you know.”

David frowned. He swore Damon lived with a permanent stick shoved up his ass. It would explain the pissed-off attitude 24/7. But pissed off or not, there was no way he was about to let Damon dismiss him that easily. “HQ encourages all hunters to form alliances with each other. We’re an international network, not a bunch of loosely affiliated individuals. Their words, not mine.”

Damon threw his pen onto his desk, his jaw clenched tight. He turned to David again. His eyes narrowed with a look of sheer annoyance. “I suggest that unless you want to join Jace on the fast track to losing your job, you shut the hell up while you’re ahead.”

David gripped the edge of his chair. He was willing to put up with a lot of bullshit, but leader or not, no one talked to him like that, and no one threatened his job.

Standing, he pointed at Damon. “Don’t think that just because I’m not as rebellious as Jace that means I’m gonna sit here and take your shit. If that’s the game you wanna play, then so be it. But my ass is covered. I’ve never stepped a foot out of line, and you know it. Can you say the same?”

“Are you implying that I don’t follow protocol?” Damon asked.

David shook his head. “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying that a hunter who does everything by the book is a good hunter. A hunter who throws the book at others like it’s the damn Torah is covering up his own mistakes by pointing out others’.”

David walked toward the door and paused, then glanced back. He couldn’t let Damon’s threats go any further. He’d taken it one step too far this time. “I’m calling your bluff, Damon. You can’t and won’t fire Jace, because he really is the best damn werewolf hunter on the East Coast. We all know he’s not exaggerating when he says that. It’s pure fact, and if you take him off the case just to prove your own stupid point, you’re a fool and those girls’ blood is on your hands. And you won’t fire me, either, because where are you going to find another demon hunter with my kind of experience? When you find someone who has known how to summon demons and sense demonic possession since they were five, you let me know. Then I’ll start being afraid of your threats.”

David turned to Shane and nodded for him to follow. “Come on. We’ll go examine the crime scene again, since our leader here can’t trust the judgment of his expert hunters.”

Shane’s eyes widened. Without a word, he snatched his messenger bag off the back of his chair and hurried after David.

Damon didn’t bother to say a word.

* * *

FRANKIE THREW ALL her body weight against the H3’s window. Her shoulder hit the glass and sent pain surging through her torso. She maneuvered her hands onto the handle one more time and pulled. Nothing.

“Damn it,” she said into the silence.

She rested against the seat, the leather sticking to her naked skin despite the cold temperature. She let out a loud huff. Locked up in a hunter’s car, and every escape route she’d tried thus far hadn’t worked.

To think, this morning she’d been bitching about how quickly her hair and nails grew during her estrus. Normally she loved going to the salon for a mani-pedi, but having to do it every couple of days got old fast. She was eternally ungrateful to her werewolf ancestry for saddling her with the problem. That had been her worst concern during the day. Well, that and the whole Alpha-mating thing. Boy, had that come back to bite her in the ass.

A small pang hit her chest. Alejandro would never forgive her for skipping out on their arranged mating ceremony. It wasn’t his fault he’d been chosen to be her mate. He hadn’t chosen it any more than she had, but she knew he was a stickler for tradition, and leaving him at the altar had shamed him in front of the pack. She hated to think of such a strong warrior, her closest confidante, being hurt by her betrayal. She and Alejandro had grown up together. She felt she owed him more than that. But how could she take him as a mate, a husband, when she loved him only as a friend?

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she willed her body to change. In her wolf form, these shackles would slide from her wrists, and she could launch herself at his throat with three-inch canines the moment he opened the door. Unfortunately, that opportunity had passed some time ago, quite literally, with the clock ticking past midnight. Changing now was nearly impossible with her body’s yearly estrus period, her mating cycle, kicking into gear. Not that she would have been likely to manage it anyway, not with the silver cuffs on her wrists.

But damn, she had to try something.

Think, Frankie. Think.

Trying every handle and unlock button—no easy feat while handcuffed—hadn’t yielded any luck, either. The hunter hadn’t lied—there was no way in hell she could get out of this gas-guzzler unless he allowed it.

She kicked the window out of sheer annoyance. Though it had proved impossible to break earlier, she had to keep trying. Her foot slammed into the glass. The release of tension calmed her, and she side-kicked harder, finally leaving a solid crack, but the window refused to shatter. It had to be bulletproof.

Tomorrow. She would escape tomorrow. When the mating call had passed and she was back to her full power, she would take the bastard down. She would be in top shape. Already the knife wound and her scrapes had healed, despite the weakness associated with her mating cycle. But until then, she was stuck. Damn.

“Stupid. Handsome. Kidnapping. Psycho,” she grumbled, timing a word with each blow. Cracks splintered across the glass, but it still refused to break.

“What the hell are you doing to my car?”

She peered into the front seat. The hunter was back, so quiet and stealthy, she hadn’t heard him arrive.

He twisted the rearview mirror to watch her. “I thought I told you there was no point in wasting your energy?”

“I had to try. You could’ve been lying.”

The car’s engine purred to life. He shifted into Drive, and they sped away from the warehouse. “I am not a liar.” His words sounded like a growl.

Frankie’s eyes widened. Apparently she’d jabbed a soft spot. She fought to keep a smirk off her face as she realized the advantage this could give her. She thanked herself for paying attention in psychology way back in high school, before dance became her focus.

“Well, if you’re not a liar, that must mean you’re not a bad guy, right?”

“What are you getting at?” he said, his voice as gruff and angry as before.

“I mean to say, if you’re not a bad guy, why bother taking me captive? You’re not going to kill me or you would’ve done it already.”

“Are you sure?”

The pit of her stomach shimmied like she was teaching one of her salsa classes. She wasn’t sure. But she had to take the chance. She wanted him to be good. Needed him to be good. Her life depended on it.

Right now, Mr. Hunky Hunter saw her as an object, a monster, exactly like his job told him to. She needed to humanize herself.

“You know, I’d really like some clothes. I had some stuffed in a backpack near where you caught me. I’m a normal person. I don’t usually walk around nude.”

“You do when you’re with your pack.” He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “If you’re even part of a pack.”

She coughed, trying to take in as little smoke as possible. He smelled beautiful, but the smoke drowned out his natural scent. The man seriously needed NicoDerm CQ. He blew out more smoke, and she swore she could already feel her lungs shriveling into black prunes.

“Are you? Part of a pack?”

She stayed silent. Would he hate her more if she belonged to a pack or if she were a rogue? Considering the recent DOA rogues, she would bet on the latter.

“A rogue, huh?” He glanced at her in the mirror.

Her heart pounded faster as she stared into the reflection of his luminous green eyes. She cleared her throat. Damn hormones. “I’m in a pack.”