Lycan Vengeance

Chapter Seven

Rose had vowed never to speak aloud of it again after Russell, but it might be her only way to gain Knox’s trust so she could escape. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that wanted to tell him, confide in him what had happened, what had hurt her so badly. To share it with someone was a luxury she’d never had, and to talk to someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy, someone who would understand her story, someone who knew that lycans were real was an opportunity she never thought to have.

But if she told him, she’d be connected to him forever. A small part of her that she’d never shared with anyone would be his, and she’d feel . . . vulnerable. Yet it came full circle to getting him to trust her so she could make her escape. The problem was she wanted to trust him as well. But would she feel right about duping someone whom she trusted? That’s when she realized she didn’t just want to trust him—she needed to.

After that thought occurred, she refused to contemplate the why of it any further.

“Where did you send that bastard that attacked me?” She watched the hesitation play across his handsome features and wondered if he’d lie or simply flat-out refuse to tell her.

When he cringed, the scars running over his face puckered a bit more, and she sympathized with the pain he must have endured from the injury, but then she realized that those scars should have healed if lycan lore were true about shifting being able to heal wounds. She watched as he carried his empty plates to the sink, rinsed them off, then carried her own over and followed suit.

“I sent him to a place up north called Sanctuary. There is a pack up there led by ancients who run a reformation program for rogues.”

While he hadn’t given her an exact location—“up north” could mean northern Michigan or Canada, for all she knew—he hadn’t lied to her, or at least she didn’t believe he had. She nearly laughed. Had she expected him to give her an address? Her gut told her Sanctuary was in northern Michigan, and she hoped to check it out soon for herself. When he turned, she stared at the scars again, and he ran his fingers over them.

Her fingers acted before her brain could stop them, and reached up to smooth over the lines one by one.

He sucked in a breath at her touch, and she jerked her hand back once she realized what she’d been doing.

“Sorry.”

“You can touch me anytime you like, Rose. But don’t do so unless you really mean it.”

His eyes glowed. Her stomach did a funny flop before heat settled between her thighs, she took a step back, and swallowed hard.

“Why did they not heal?”

“I got them when I was younger. I was knocked unconscious for three days, and by the time I shifted, for some reason the scars remained. It happens on occasion, rarely.” He shrugged. “Guess I was one of the lucky ones. And, Rose, I know what you’re doing.”

“Huh?”

“You’re stalling. Please, tell me why you hate my kind so much.”

He followed close behind when she made her way to the living room. She sat on the dark brown leather sofa, and he sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his thigh next to her. She opened her mouth to explain several times, but the words lodged in her throat, refusing to surface. When he laid his hand over hers where it rested on her leg, she felt comforted by his touch. She didn’t want to feel comforted by him, but her body gave her no choice in the matter.

“My friend was murdered by a lycan. Now you know.” Her stomach churned, and she took a deep breath to calm the roiling that threatened to toss up the wonderful dinner she’d just eaten.

He slowly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and even though she knew he was doing it to soothe her, a spark of desire shot through her. His fingers were long and strong, the knuckles dusted with golden blond hair. They were hands made for fighting. They were hands made for loving, and she fought the urge to close her eyes and revel in his magical caresses.

“I think there is a bit more to it than that.” He leaned closer and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear.

“While the taking of a friend in itself is enough to spark a need for revenge, it usually does not keep that fire of anger lit indefinitely.” He leaned closer still. “Tell me.” His whispered words were so close to her ear, his hot breath fanned across her cheek.

Suddenly, she found herself pouring out the whole ordeal that had taken place that night with Russell and the horrible, ill-fated party she and Tammy had gone to. When she was done, she was surprised to find she was crying. Twice in one day now, and she never cried. Strangely, instead of being flooded with the turmoil of sadness and anger she thought she’d feel at telling someone, an eerie calm settled through her. The deep glow in Knox’s eyes said effectively—no words needed—that he was ashamed and angered by what his kind had done.

“I’m sorry. This is why we are trying to get the rogues under control. You should have been protected, along with the other girls, not brutalized. I cannot tell you how much your suffering pains me. I know you are still having a difficult time believing me when I say we are not all like that, but it’s true. I would never harm you or another who carried the scent. Neither would many others I know. I wish I had found you back then, before all of that happened. I would have never let the rogue hurt you or your friend. It’s a tragic loss for you, and for three of my brethren who will never have the opportunity to know their mates.”

“It’s not your fault, Knox. You can’t be held accountable for things out of your control.”

And that was exactly the message he was trying to convey to her, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be responsible for taking out an entire race because of one incident that had affected her. She couldn’t base her whole life on revenge and vengeance. It had slowly eaten away at her over the years, and it would continue to do so until she became someone she didn’t want to become. Someone with no feelings, no remorse—a former shell of herself.

She’d already started down that path, and if she’d made it to the threshold and stepped over, she’d never be herself again.

Still, how was she supposed to live with the knowledge of the rogue lycans and not do anything to help stop their actions against the innocent? Then it dawned on her. Instead of fighting out of anger and vengeance, she should have been fighting for a better future for all those affected, including herself. She couldn’t continue to kill every lycan she came across after meeting Knox. If she had succeeded in killing him, she would have taken out an integral part of keeping the lycans under control.

A sinking feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach when realization swirled inside her. Her goal had been focused on wiping out an entire species, but Knox had been focused on saving his race by eliminating those who threatened their survival. If she had succeeded in killing him, it may have, in fact, aided the existence of lycans since Knox would have been unable to further help keep the rogues under control. Her need for revenge had blinded her to the bigger picture.

She looked into his glowing eyes, and desire for him hit her hard and spiraled out of control. While she was willing to admit that he wasn’t the monster she’d originally believed him to be, she didn’t think she was ready to explore sex with the one thing she’d hated for so long. But, God, she wanted him like she’d never wanted any man. She already knew what his soft, firm, full lips felt like—fire and every delectable, forbidden thing in life. He tasted of the woods and wilderness, wild, free, and dangerous.

He cupped her nape and brought his mouth to hers before she had fully convinced herself that this was a bad idea. When his lips touched her, all rational thought disappeared like smoke in the wind.

He kept the kiss gentle and slowly dipped his tongue into her mouth. She groaned, and he growled low before slanting his head further to the side to deepen the thrust of his tongue. The kiss soon built and went from coaxing to dominating.

She’d never understood the appeal of domination, but now that Knox was leaning over her, kissing her, she shivered in excitement at the thought of submitting to his every request, of being the one to fulfill his every need, of having every one of her needs fulfilled by him. His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her bare breast, and when he rolled the stiff peak of her nipple between his fingers, heat spread deep down in her belly and rushed to her core.

Her skin was so overly sensitized that she was truly amazed it didn’t hurt when he touched her. Instead his fingers left a trail of hot, achy, needy want behind. Her hands came up of their own accord and skimmed over his shirt, along the hard planes of his pecs, and down across chiseled abs.

He was hard, unyielding under her fingers, and he growled low when she slid her palms back up and over his chest. The growl encouraged her boldness, and she gently tweaked one of his nipples through the fabric before running her hand down his side, over his hip, and let it rest on his muscular thigh.

She wanted to slide her fingers further, until they made contact with his cock, but before she could do so, he expertly rolled her to her back and covered her with his big body, taking her lips once again before the erotic haze cast over her mind could clear. His knee came up and wedged between her legs, and she tightened her thighs around him. He moved against her in a rhythm that encouraged her to raise her hips against him, enhancing the delectable friction building inside her.

She gasped into his mouth when he came into contact with her most sensitive part, and nearly cried out at the intense pleasure that ripped through her, threatening to tear her apart. He increased the rhythm, and she strained against him, begging for more. The pressure built, and Knox trailed his lips along her jaw, down her neck, and over one breast, where he tongued her through her shirt. The riptide of her orgasm shot through her when he bit down gently on one nipple, and she cried out as she rode his thigh in unabashed abandon.

Knox thought he might explode at any minute. He’d not felt this out of control since he’d been a young pup full of hormones, but damn if Rose didn’t make him feel like a randy teenager again. He bit down gently on her nipple, tonguing the hard pebble through her shirt while she rubbed against his thigh. She was close. He could feel the tension building in her body, scent her excitement, and within moments her body jerked and she cried out, and he had no choice but to watch her lovely face as she came.

Her pale eyes were wide, staring at him in wonder as she clamped her legs around him and undulated against his thigh. Her hair flowed wildly around her head, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He ached to shred their clothing and bury himself deep inside her while she rode out the last waves of her orgasm, yearned for her slick heat to surround him, her muscles to clench and unclench around him, wanted to feel her welcome him . . . home.

But the hazy cloud of desire wore off fast, and he was aware of the very instant her eyes cleared from the fog of her orgasm. He’d gone too far too fast. She’d only just trusted him enough to tell him about what had happened to her friend, and instead of comforting her, he’d jumped her. What the hell was wrong with him?

He sat up and shook his head in exasperation. He had no control around her. Once he touched her, he was lost, lost in the urge to take her, lost in the overwhelming need to love her, lost to everything but the taste, feel, and scent of her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He stood, hoping to ease the pressure of his cock straining against his jeans.

When she didn’t say anything, he turned to find her staring at him. A mix of confusion and anger marred her lovely features. A tickle of warning on the back of his neck told him he’d fucked up. What had he done now?

“You’re sorry?” The barely whispered words would have been missed by most.

He’d heard them, though, and now when her eyes fell to the floor, he wanted to kick himself. He was so out of practice with women. He’d insulted her. He went to her and kneeled beside the couch.

“I didn’t mean—”

Before he could tell her that he’d only meant that he was sorry he’d taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state, she scrambled off the couch and fled to the bedroom. Yeah, he was really out of practice where women were concerned. He wanted to go after her, make her listen to his explanation. He wanted her to know that there was no other woman for him, that he had barely been able to keep from ripping her clothes off and taking her on the couch as she came apart under him. Yet, he wasn’t so out of practice that he didn’t know she needed some breathing room.

He did remember that about women. Once you hurt them, give them a tad bit of space—not too much, so it didn’t seem like you didn’t care—or you’d risk cornering a spitting mad she-devil. And Rose had the skills to make him hurt, not to mention that he’d probably deserve whatever she dished out to him. He’d never lay a hand on her to stop the punishment either. He might restrain her, might hold her down—his cock pulsed again at the thought. He growled in frustration and reached down to adjust himself. The prospect of constraining her was exciting not only to him as a man, but also to the predator. The wolf craved domination.

He started down the hall, ready to ignore the giving-her-some-space rule, and changed direction at the last second, going to the kitchen instead. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair in agitation. Give her a few minutes, and then explain everything to her. He wanted to go to her now. Ten minutes. Give her ten minutes.

She was his mate, and it was time for her to know the truth. If there was any chance for them, he had to be completely honest with her. He had to tell her everything, including how iron was the true weakness of the lycans. He wasn’t a praying man, but at that very moment, he asked the gods above to make her understand the huge risk he was taking and the amount of confidence he put in her hands by telling her. Still, no matter how much information he gave her about his kind, none of it weighed on him as heavily as how she would react when she found out she was his—a lycan, the thing she obviously hated most in the world.

How would she deal with it? He now understood how her hatred had reached such depths, as he would feel no different if it had happened to him. No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. While Rose was by no means weak in his eyes, he was a man, a lycan, and would have had different choices of recourse. As a lycan, he would have been able to react swiftly and deadly, while as a human, she would have had to tread carefully, learn her foe, and deal with fear along with things she never knew existed.

But it wasn’t healthy to hang on to such hatred for so long. She had to deal with it, let it go, and move on, or it would tear her apart and do irreparable damage. He felt some relief knowing she’d gone great lengths to dealing with it when she’d confided in him. He was no psychologist, but talking about things was always a step in the right direction to healing.

Knowing that she’d never told anyone her story, never trusted anyone enough to do so, boded well for him, gave him some measure of confidence that maybe she was beginning to view him as a man and not just a monster. Or had it been the simple fact that he already knew of the existence of lycans and wouldn’t automatically think she was crazy that made her confide in him? He hoped it was more than that.