Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(14)

Unless…

No, this was the season of the killing moon, as far from the mating moon as Earth’s path around the sun could take them.

He couldn’t send her away until he knew what was going on. Goddamn it, he didn’t need this complication, not when they were so close to launching an assault on the Kingdom Guard compound.

The thought that she’d driven from Vegas to here, right past the turnoff for the decommissioned army base raised all his hackles. Not that the Guard would bother with a human; they only wanted to destroy shapeshifters.

But if Willow Raleigh was becoming a werewolf because of him…

Fuck.

He realized she was trying to push past him without—ya know—actually pushing him. Because that would mean touching him, something she was obviously not going to do.

He used that to his advantage, taking a step closer and forcing her to lower her blocking hand and sink back onto the stool rather than let their bodies connect.

He stared down at her, absorbing all the little details he’d struggled to forget: the arch of her dark brows, the uptilt of her little nose, the bow of her lips, all sweet and sassy curves. “You’re here alone?”

She raised her chin. “No. The whole band is with me. Plus our roadies, really big guys. And our manager. And our lawyer.” She glared at him. “So I guess we’re done here.”

She was lying. He didn’t need the twitch of her cute nose to tell him that. She didn’t have anyone with her.

And they weren’t even close to done.

Before he could inform her of that fact, Grampa bustled up. “Hey, young fella. Did Kane send you to find a place for our friend here? I told her the RV park was full up, but there’s got to be a driveway somewhere here in town for her van.”

Kane Villalobos was alpha of the Mesa Diablo wolves, but even those plain humans who didn’t know about shapeshifters considered him an unofficial mayor of sorts, having inherited the position from his overbearing father. Kane had left town to get away from the old man which was how he’d met LT overseas. Diesel knew he didn’t have anything on those two males when it came to leadership, but he channeled their best arrogance when he said, “I know a place for her.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and plucked her off the stool. “Come with me.”

She gasped but didn’t quite fight back. As long as dragging her boot heels didn’t count as fighting.

He hauled her toward the diner door, past the booth with LT and Malachi. He met Mal’s perturbed stare. “Owe you one,” he said.

Mal tipped him a wry, two-fingered salute. LT never looked up from his steak.

Willow really set her heels when they hit the street. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I said come with me,” he reminded her. “You did that happily enough before.”

Wild color blazed over her cheeks, clashing with her hair. “And that was enough.”

He wasn’t going to let that sting. Dammit. “Yeah, well, you chased after me for a reason, so you might as well tell me what it is.” He peered at her. “You can’t be pregnant.”

She recoiled. “Fuck no.”

“Fucking is exactly what does it,” he reminded her. “But it’d be too early to tell.” Plus she wasn’t his mate, wasn’t even a shifter. So why did the thought of her carrying his pup make his heart pitter-patter? Must be terror. Since shifters weren’t all that common to start with, and their fertility rates weren’t high—plus he was a male—he’d never even held a baby. From the stories he’d heard, he imagined it must be like holding a warm, breathing M16 loaded with pee and vomit instead of 60 rpms. But that was just a guess.

“I’m not pregnant,” she hissed. “I just…needed a break.”

He cranked his jaw to one side. “And you thought I’d be your break.”

“I didn’t come here looking for you,” she said quickly. “But you mentioned this place, and it sounded like what I needed.”

He tried to remember what he’d said. Something about angels and devils when he’d just been teasing her.

He let go of her wrist. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he growled.

Her face paled then flushed a hundred times brighter than before. And he definitely remembered the last time he’d told her that. Up against the window. Naked.

He swallowed hard and focused on his phone, texting out a quick query. An answer came back almost at once, fast enough that he thought Mal back in the diner must be sending gossipy messages too. Asshole.

“Okay,” he said. “I got you a place.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” she said. “I said I’d just go back to the city.”

“It’s getting late.”

“I know how to drive in the dark. Been doing it almost my whole life.” She grimaced. “And that’s not even a metaphor.”

He flashed her a grin. “I’ve heard that song, haven’t I? Something about midnight, white headlights, yellow lines flashing out a warning to stop thinking about you.”

Man, could she blush any more shades? This was yet another hue of hectic red. She shrugged and looked away. “That’s an old one. Wrote that back when the band was still sleeping in the van.”