Last Wolf Standing. Rhyannon Byrd
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of his eyes as they narrowed, pinning her in place. “I’m not interested in making you feel better. I’m interested in keeping you alive.”
A sharp sound of disbelief jerked from her throat. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“You would, if you’d just calm down for a moment and listen to what your gut is telling you. I’m not the bad guy here. I’m the only thing that can keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe by scaring me to death?” she returned, her voice trembling. “I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier, and it isn’t my intention to scare you now, Torrance.” He sighed. “I just had to make sure you were going to be okay.”
With a little start of surprise, she realized what he’d just said. “How did you learn my name?”
Reaching into the pocket on the front of his flannel shirt, Mason pulled out the pay stub she’d been using as a bookmark, holding it up between his first and second fingers.
Torrance looked from the slip of paper to his face.
“It fell out of your book when you pulled away from me at the café.” He watched her for a moment, then quietly said, “You felt it, too, didn’t you?”
Torrance shook her head, but she couldn’t deny that there was a strange truth to his roughly spoken words. Her gut was telling her…something—but she refused to listen.
Mason stepped forward, his expression turning fierce when he saw her flinch. “Damn it, don’t do this. I know you feel it, Torrance. Don’t goddamn lie about it.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered, even though she knew the look in her eyes betrayed her, revealing the intense, almost painful longing that she couldn’t hide…couldn’t explain or rationalize, considering she was terrified of him. “I’m sorry. Believe me, you have no idea how sorry—but I…I just can’t do this.”
His head fell forward and he seemed to be staring hard at the floor, lost in thought. Several tense moments passed, and when he looked back toward her, he kept his voice gentle, saying, “Everyone’s afraid of werewolves, honey. At first.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Her voice shook, despite her efforts to sound strong. “I’m not just afraid. I’m terrified. I’ve…ever since I was a little girl…nightmares…always. I’m… I can’t… I can’t do this.”
Mason took another step closer to her, stopping when he saw the way her body tensed. “You can’t go off on your own again,” he said quietly, his tone urgent. “He’s not going to stop until he’s got you.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Torrance, please listen to me. There’s something going on here…a connection between us that’s too damn complicated to explain right now. But if Simmons so much as suspects it, he won’t give up. He’ll keep coming after you.”
She blinked, trying hard not to cry. “Why me?”
He stared at her, his gaze moving softly over her face, before settling back on her eyes. She felt as if he could see straight into her—as if he could get into her head and witness firsthand the chaos going on inside. “Because he’ll use you to get to me.”
Pulling her knees into her chest, she flicked her gaze between him and Jeremy. “And what the hell does he want with you?”
“It’s because of who I am. Because of what I am,” he explained gruffly, hunching down in front of her, his arm resting on his bent knee. “My job is to hunt down and kill Lycans like Simmons. Rogue werewolves. That’s what we do. It’s called Bloodrunning, and Jeremy is my partner.”
“What do you mean rogue werewolves?” she asked, inching farther away from him. He shot a questioning look toward Jeremy, and she could tell from his harsh expression that he didn’t want to explain. “Damn it, you got me into this! I deserve to know what’s happening.”
“Rogues are wolves who have gone over,” he told her, breathing out a rough sigh.
Her stomach flipped, making her queasy. “What do mean ‘gone over’?”
“They give in to their darker hungers and hunt humans, using them as food. Once they start, the power…the rush they feel from the kill and the feeding is addictive. They have no conscience and they have no fear. Now that Simmons has set his sights on you, he won’t stop until he’s got you. That’s why we need to get you somewhere safe before he comes back. Next time he attacks, you can bet he won’t be alone.”
Torrance shook her head, a panicked, hysterical laugh bubbling up from her chest. “Somewhere safe? You’ve got to be joking!”
Mason stood and ran both hands back through his hair, then shoved them deep in his jeans’ pockets. Locking his jaw, he said, “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“No, but then you don’t look like a…a—”
“Monster?” he supplied helpfully, arching one dark brow at her. Though he tried to cover it, Torrance could see the quick flash of pain that cut through his warm gaze—almost as if she’d somehow hurt him. Leaning against the door frame, Jeremy muttered something foul under his breath, and she felt her cheeks go warm with an uncomfortable wave of shame.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” she lied, hating the emotional knot in her stomach. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Why not?” Mason asked, pinning her with a hard, intense stare. “Your thoughts are written plain on your face, Tor. I’ve never met anyone before who was so easy to read.”
She lifted her chin, hating that he could see into her so easily. “You don’t know me.”
He snorted. “Yeah, and you don’t know me. But that isn’t stopping you from being judgmental as hell.”
He was twisting her words around, confusing her, and it was too hard to think when she was still so terrified. And yet there was something strangely…comforting about the arrogant giant. Again, that odd sense of rightness overtook her, and Torrance struggled to throw off its deceptive allure.
What the hell was wrong with her? Had she lost her mind?
“I need… I think I’m going to be sick,” she muttered, pressing her blood-covered hands to her stomach as she surged to her unsteady feet and took off running in the direction of the bathroom. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mason move toward her, but Jeremy reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him back.
“Just give her some time, man. She’s been through hell.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever,” he grunted, shrugging his arm free of Jeremy’s grasp.
Torrance slammed the flimsy bathroom door behind her, flipped the lock…and knew what she had to do.
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