Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (21 page)

“Yeah,
and
I’m
one
hundred
and
ninety-two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,
really.
Look,
I
know
what
you
think
you
want.
But
you’re
wrong.”

“What
do
I
want?”
Her
voice
sounded
breathless
to
her
own
ears.

“You
want
to
get
rid
of
that
virginity
you
find
so
embarrassing.”
He
shook
his
head,
pushed
himself
away
from
the
wall,
and
strode
toward
her.
Up
close,
he
was
huge,
towering
over
her,
and
she
had
to
force
herself
to
stand
her
ground.
This
was
no
time
to
turn
yellow.

He
halted
a
foot
away
and
stared
down
at
her
through
half-closed
eyes.

“You
really
want
it?
You
want
me
to
fuck
you,
little
girl
?”

No,
actually,
she
wanted
him
to
make
sweet,
dreamy
love
to
her,
but
she
had
an
idea
he
might
laugh
if
she
mentioned
that,
so
she’d
take
the
other
if
it
was
all
that
was
on
offer.
Something
tightened
low
down
in
her
belly
at
his
words
and
heat
washed
through
her.
She
didn’t
think
she
could
get
any
sound
out
of
her
suddenly
dry
mouth,
so
she
nodded.

His
eyes
widened
as
though
he
hadn’t
expected
that
answer.
“Jesus,
I
don’t
believe
this.
Are
you
always
so
reckless?”

She
opened
her
mouth
to
argue
that
she
wasn’t
reckless—this
was
a
well
thought-out
plan—but
he
continued
before
she
got
the
chance.

“Why
me?”
he
asked,
running
a
hand
through
his
hair.
He
didn’t
seem
to
need
an
answer,
so
she
kept
quiet.
“Hell,
I
bet
you
can’t
even
say
the
word,
never
mind
do
it.”

Alex
ground
her
teeth.
“I
can.”

Jon
folded
his
arms
across
his
chest,
a
smug,
superior
expression
on
his
face.
“Go
on
then.”

She
swallowed.
There
was
nothing
hard
about
this.
It
wasn’t
even
blaspheming,
which
she’d
probably
find
impossible.
Just
because
she
had
never
said
the
word
in
her
life,
didn’t
mean
she
couldn’t.
Her
mouth
opened,
but
nothing
came
out,
and
she
closed
it
again.
She
hated
being
a
priestess—she
was
so
repressed.

He
laughed,
but
the
sound
held
no
amusement,
and
her
fury
rose.

“So
I
can’t
say
it?
What’s
the
big
deal
here?
It’s
not
as
though
I
want
to
marry
you
or
anything.
As
it
happens,
I’m
already
married.”

“Yeah,
I
remember—to
God,
right?
And
he’s
obviously
not
giving
you
any.”

“I
don’t
even
like
you,”
she
continued,
deciding
to
ignore
his
comment.
“But
I
don’t
happen
to
have
a
lot
of
options
here.”

He
regarded
her,
his
head
cocked
to
one
side.
“Doesn’t
it
bother
you
that
I’m
a
werewolf?”

She
smiled
sweetly.
“No,
I
always
wanted
a
pet
dog.”

An
expression
of
outrage
flashed
across
his
features,
and
she
had
to
bite
back
her
grin.
“Besides,”
she
added
hurriedly,
“as
I
said—I
don’t
have
a
lot
of
choices.”

“And
you’re
desperate,
right?”

She
thought
about
the
question
for
a
second
then
nodded.
It
was
sad
but
true,
and
she
wasn’t
going
to
get
what
she
wanted
by
lying
about
it.
“Yeah,
I’m
desperate.”

“Jesus,”
he
muttered
again.
“Let
me
give
you
a
word
of
advice.
Real
men
like
to
do
the
chasing.”

“Real
men?”

“Look,
you’re
obviously
a
good
girl.
Why
don’t
you
go
back
to
where
you
belong?
Back
to
the
Church,
like
a
good
little
virgin
priestess.”

The
last
words
were
sneered
and
twenty-four
years
of
pretending
rose
up
inside
her.
“I
am
not
a
good
girl.
For
one
thing,
I’m
not
a
girl—I’m
a
woman.
For
another,
I
am
not
good.
I’ve
never
been
good.
I’ve
just
pretended,
and
I’m
sick
of
it.”
Alex
took
a
step
toward
him,
and
he
backed
up.
She
prodded
him
in
the
chest—it
reminded
her
of
solid
rock.
“Do
you
know
what
it
was
like?”

He
shook
his
head,
a
slightly
panicked
look
on
his
face.

“Every
single
day.
For
twenty-four
years.
I
pretended
to
be
good.
And
every
single
day
I
thought
of
new
bad
things
I
wanted
to
do.
I
wanted
to
do
them
so
much
that
sometimes
I
would
scream
inside.
And
soon,
I’ll
go
back,
and
I’ll
pretend
to
be
good
again—”