The Better to Bite (Howl #1)(14)

He grabbed my arm—in a very, very fast move—and pulled the bandage off in an instant.

“Hey!” I snapped. “What are you—”

“Claws.” His breath rasped out in what could have been a relieved sigh.

I peered at my arm. The marks weren’t as red now. The lines actually seemed to have shrunk a bit. Still raised though. Each mark was a couple of inches long.

“I’m not getting rabies or anything, okay? You don’t have to worry about—”

“I wasn’t worrying about rabies.” His fingers smoothed over my arm. His fingertips felt a little rough, like he had calluses on them.

I swallowed. “Then what? What’s the big deal?”

But he only shook his head. The guy had some extremely long lashes. I couldn’t help but notice since we were kissing close.

He pulled away a bit, putting some space between us.

I took a quick breath and could have sworn I tasted him.

“So…” And I climbed off the bike. I could do the space routine, too. I walked a few feet away. “Is that the only question you wanted to ask me?”

“No.”

I waited. Look at me not blurting anything, just waiting. I was making some serious progress.

“Why are you going out with Brent Peters?”

I rocked back a bit on my heels. Was he jealous? Maybe. Maybe not. “Because I want to?”

He kicked down the stand and climbed off the motorcycle. “You need to be careful around him.”

“What is up with people giving me warnings in this town?” Now I was annoyed. “This is gonna come as a shock, but I can actually take care of myself.” I had my black belt in Karate. My dad had made sure I knew how to defend myself at an early age. I might look small, but I could pack a mean punch.

And all that nice, personal space I’d put between us? He eliminated it in like two seconds. He caught my arm, his hold gentle despite the roughness of his fingertips. His hand rested just below my wound. “You sure about that? Maybe you were a bad ass back home,” his tone said he doubted that, “but, Chicago, I think you are way out of your element here.”

My chin—one that was perhaps a little too pointed—lifted. “You don’t know my element.”

All traces of humor left his face. “And you don’t know what you’re dealing with here in Haven. If you’re not careful, you could get hurt.” His thumb smoothed over my arm. “And it will be a whole lot worse than a little scratch.”

“I’m not scared.” Not of this town and not of him. Not really.

Then I realized…those were almost the same words I’d said to Granny Helen.

In the next instant, the guy totally blew my mind because he said, “Brent thinks I’m interested in you, so he’s trying to beat me to the punch.”

Wait, what? I did a quick interpretation and my jaw sagged a bit. “You’re saying he’s asking me out because—”

“Because he thinks he’s taking something I want.”

My breath caught in my throat.

His eyes glittered at me. “He’s using you, Anna,” he said flatly. “Don’t let him do that.”

I wet my lips. “I don’t let anyone use me.” But that was a lie. I had before…the cops in Chicago had used me on their cases, and once, my Dad had used my difference. Yet hearing these words from Rafe, well, they pissed me off. No, he pissed me off. “And I’m guessing the fact that maybe he just likes me never once crossed your mind?”

I could actually hear his teeth snap together. “I know him well,” he gritted, “Brent can be a real ass.”

“And so can you.”

He blinked. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Really?” It didn’t so much look that way from where I was standing. “From what I’ve gathered at school, Brent’s the good guy, the class hero. Everyone seems to like him.” I stared back at him. “People aren’t quite so complimentary about you.”

“That so?” He took a stalking step toward me.

I didn’t back up. I was too mad then. “Yeah, that’s so.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

Because I’m an idiot. “Because I needed a ride, and if you don’t mind, I’d really like to finish up that ride and get home.” And away from you. I didn’t say that part. I was being a lady, but I figured the words must be pretty clear to read on my face.

“Fine.”

I marched by him. My shoulder brushed his.

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” The words were growled at me.

I frowned at him. “No one’s going to hurt me.” Then, because I had to ask—just couldn’t let it go, I said, “Brent thinks you want me? Do you…um, I mean…” Great, so smooth. “What do you—”

He shook his head and that cut off my stumbling words. His blue gaze seemed to burn me, but then he simply told me, “I can’t.”

What kind of answer was that?

He headed back to the motorcycle and climbed on.

I guess it was the only answer I was getting.

I can’t. Perhaps it was better than him saying, “You suck,” but I still took it the same way. I climbed on the bike behind him, and I tried to leave some space between us. “Just get me home.” I pulled on the helmet.