Lycan Vengeance

Chapter Six

Knox had been wrong to let the lycan go. The rogue had attacked her, and if Knox hadn’t shown up when he had . . . A sliver of dread tingled in her spine. Would she have suffered the fate Tammy had all those years ago? While she’d come to terms that this job would get her killed at some point in time, she’d also pushed it to the back of her mind. The last several hours shoved the point to the forefront of her denying brain.

At least she’d gotten a punch in on the bastard before he’d been sent on his merry way. Yet even the satisfaction she’d gotten from breaking his nose was short-lived, since it was probably healed by now. She shook her head in disgust as the warm bathwater soaked into her chilled skin, finally warming her enough to stop the shivers that had pulsed through her.

She and Knox would never see eye to eye. He wanted her to trust him. She could see it on his face plain as day every time he looked at her. She’d even begun to think that maybe there was a small possibility she could do so, until now. She was well aware that her hormones had probably been the cause of that wishful thinking and had nothing to do with the cold truth of reality. But she’d never been kissed like he’d kissed her. He’d not only kissed her, he’d touched her like she was the most precious gem in the world.

When he kissed her, she’d felt as if he was laying claim to her soul, imprinting himself on her forever.

She’d burned under his expert ministrations, and she’d craved more, yearned to submit to his every demand.

She’d wanted to make him go up in flames as she had, but it could never be.

She couldn’t fraternize with the enemy no matter how much she wanted to, and oh, how she wanted to.

Was it so much to ask that the first time she met a man she wanted he’d be human? She nearly laughed out loud. A human male would never cut it either. She’d never subject another to the danger that surrounded her.

Knox would be the death of her, maybe not in the physical sense, but he’d play the starring role in the demise of her heart. She’d allowed herself to feel too much for him, and she had to put an end to it before it was too late. She had to leave—tonight. It would be difficult at best to escape him, but she would figure out how to do it somehow. She squared her shoulders in determination and started devising a plan. Once her iron will was set on something, she very rarely failed.

The first thing she’d do once she escaped Knox was find that little bastard he’d let go and do the world a favor by ridding it of him. The rogue had scared her, and she didn’t like to be scared. Fear made her feel weak, helpless, and it dug up memories of the past she preferred to keep buried. She sat up and reached for a towel before standing. Water sloshed down her legs, and the cool air hit her, sending goose bumps scattering over the surface of her skin.

She could hear thunk, thunk, thunk in the bedroom and assumed Knox was fixing the window that had been broken by the rogue. She drained the tub, dried off, and dressed in jeans, thick socks, boots, and a hoodie pulled over a T-shirt. She always wore sensible cotton panties, but never a bra.

She hated the damn things, and had never found one that was comfortable. Thankful to be in her own clothes again, she glanced at Knox’s discarded shirt on the floor, quickly picked it up, and tucked it into her bag before she combed her hair and gave her teeth a quick brush.

She didn’t quite understand what had made her put his shirt in her bag, but for some peculiar reason, she wanted to hang on to it. She took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, but stopped just short of touching it. She didn’t want to go out there while he was still there. When he was near, her common sense liked to flee in happy surrender.

She listened until the banging and shuffling stopped, then waited a few moments more in the silence before going back into the bedroom. The window was boarded over, and Knox was gone. She set her bag on the bed and paced the floor, barely noticing its creakity creaks under her steps. She knew he wanted to talk to her about tonight’s events, probably even try to convince her that he’d been right in sending the lycan away instead of killing him.

She jumped when a knock sounded on the door. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.” Knox’s voice came muffled through the door.

She looked around and quickly decided talking in the bedroom probably wasn’t the best idea, afraid of what her hormones may encourage her to do. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Time to put her plan into action. She’d listen and do her part in making him believe she was coming around to his way of thinking. She’d act as if she were entertaining the idea of agreeing with his view of things, lull him into a false sense of security, one that would hopefully lower his guard of her enough to allow her escape. She pushed aside the fact that deceiving him felt wrong, tamped it down and locked it away.

When she stepped out into the hall, the smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, and her stomach growled in protest. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Too long. She’d never been happier that she wasn’t a vegetarian—even if she was, the delectable aroma of beef might be enough temptation to turn her. She followed the mouthwatering trail to the kitchen, where Knox was standing by a stove, turning over two of the largest steaks she’d ever seen. His back was to her, and she couldn’t help but admire the broad width of his shoulders. She felt fragile, feminine around him, and strangely that turned her on more than irritated her.

“I don’t follow a regular eating schedule. I’m sorry. I should have fed you before now. I hope you like steak, baked potatoes, and salad.” He glanced over his shoulder at her before checking the oven.

“Sounds good. Do you need help with anything?”

“You can pour the tea. The glasses are in the cabinet to my right, and the tea’s in the fridge.”

She found the glasses, filled them with tea, and checked the freezer for ice. She was happy there was ice because she loved lots of it in whatever she happened to be drinking—including milk. After refilling the trays and putting the half-empty pitcher back in the fridge, she carried the glasses to the small wooden table that sat in a nook off the kitchen, beside a bay window. She noticed the two bowls of salad on the counter and went to get them. Her stomach growled again when she saw the crisp lettuce topped with cherry tomatoes, cheese, cucumbers, and croutons.

“Dressing is in the fridge too,” he said as he slid the two steaks onto separate plates.

“Ranch or Italian?” she asked.

“Ranch. Thank you.”

She poured a bit of ranch on both salads, put the dressing back, and followed Knox to the table. He set a plate down in front of her before getting the butter and sour cream from the fridge.

“Do you need salt or pepper?”

“No. This looks wonderful. Thank you, Knox.”

He gave her a curt nod, and she had a feeling he wasn’t happy about the conversation that was about to take place between them. He wasn’t the only one. She was about to lie to him, and she didn’t like to lie to anyone, even if it was for her own benefit.

He handed her a fork and knife, and they began to eat. She groaned when the rich flavor from the first bite of steak exploded against her tongue. The man could cook. The meat was done to perfection. Moist, tender, a bit pink inside, but no blood—just like she preferred. She noticed his was a bit rarer.

“Good, huh?” He smiled and took a big bite before closing his eyes and chewing as if savoring every second of the succulent meat.

“Mmm. Yes. You are an excellent cook.” She took another bite and almost choked when he smiled and trained those hot midnight eyes on her. Her insides started to melt much like the steak had in her mouth. How could he do that to her with one simple heated glance?

“I wouldn’t say I’m an excellent cook, but if a man should know anything, it should be how to cook a steak properly.”

They continued to eat in silence until she’d eaten almost half of the food, and she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to ask him the question that had been nagging at her.

“Why did you let the lycan go? He attacked me.” She chewed as she watched him, waiting for an explanation.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and once again he trained those searing eyes on her.

Heat built slowly deep in her belly as she sat nearly mesmerized under his watchful gaze, watching his lips, waiting in anticipation for his answer.

“Because I don’t think what he did was something he had ever done before. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kill him just for touching you—would have without second thought if he had left a mark on you—but I have a duty to my race. We have to try to save the rogues with potential. The lycans are starting to die out.”

“Why?” For some odd reason she felt sorry for him, even though the demise of the lycans had been her main goal.

“I know you think you know a lot about us, but it seems that you’ve only seen one side of our race—the rogue side. You’ve based all of your feelings on the actions of the ones we are trying hard to suppress. Rogues do not represent a true lycan’s nature. Do you understand the difference between a rogue and me?”

She thought about it for a moment and realized she had branded all lycans alike—mean, brutal, and bloodthirsty—but Knox didn’t seem that way. She’d never deny he was a predator, and was sure he could and would be lethal if the situation called for it. She hadn’t missed the way the anger had burned in his eyes when he’d found her in the woods, and had been fairly certain most of it had been directed at the rogue rather than at herself. Had she allowed one instance, albeit brutal as it was, to be the precedent for her judgment of an entire race—a race she was now learning she might have badly misjudged? Yes, because she hadn’t considered the possibility that there was any other type of lycan but an evil one.

“No.”

“Rogues are lycans that have no guidance or fall into the wrong pack at a young age. They are no different than misguided, abused, or neglected kids. Rogues believe that those marked with the main scent are to be used for their own pleasure. They have tortured, raped, and killed potential mates to the point where we are on the verge of extinction. I, along with many others, am an ancient, and the ancients abide by ancient law. All potential mates with the main scent are supposed to be protected until their destined mate is found. It is essential for our survival.”

Her stomach started to churn slowly as the weight of his words came down on her. “What do you mean

‘destined mate’? And how can you be certain there is a destined mate for one who has the scent?”

He pinned her with his stare as if he was afraid she was about to run and he could hold her in the chair with his eyes. “Everyone who has a main scent also has a mated scent. All lycans can detect the main scent, which is how we know to protect potential mates, but the mated scent can only be detected by one lycan—the destined mate.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I am supposed to breed with a lycan?” She set her fork and knife down as the implication of his words made her heart pound in her chest. She’d known about the main scent from the start, courtesy of Russell, but she’d had no idea about this second scent.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. Only know that you do have the main scent, and any lycan that gets near you will scent it. You are in danger from rogues.”

“I have always been in danger, but I’m good at what I do. You are the only one—well, the second one—

who has gotten close to me.” Then it dawned on her. She’d almost killed Knox. How many others had she killed mistakenly, taking them for rogues? My God, how many innocent lycans have I murdered?

Knox leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin on his hands. He was close enough that the warmth of his skin seeped into her leg. She was beginning to think that maybe she was no better than the supposed monsters she’d hunted over the years. She’d never stopped to consider that there were good and bad lycans.

“Hey.” Knox waited until she looked at him to continue. “I’d be willing to bet that the only lycans you’ve killed have been ones that have deserved it. You’d never get an ancient.”

“I almost got you.” She cringed when he smiled. This was no laughing matter.

“You didn’t almost get me. Yeah, you shot me, but it would have taken much more than that to take me down. You are good at hunting, but I’m better. Besides, I was aware that you had been following me for nearly a month before you tagged me, almost had you a few times, but you were always smarter than I gave you credit for. Of course, I did think you were only an overzealous hunter for the most part. I never really took you seriously, thought you’d either eventually give up or I’d catch you.

“I found it a mystery as to why you were following me in the first place. It was disconcerting to think a human might be hunting me because I was a lycan. That knowledge could end up being the end of all lycans. I couldn’t have realized how close to the truth I actually was. And it was all due to the careless behavior of a rogue.”

She sucked in a breath. How had he known that? She hadn’t told him about Tammy or that horrible night, although, she supposed it was a logical assumption on his part.

“How did you know that?”

“I didn’t, lucky guess, but now I know. Is that where you got the scars on your legs?” His eyes glowed, and his lips tightened into thin lines.

“I didn’t realize you’d noticed them.” He must have seen them when he’d carried her back to the house while she’d been wearing only his T-shirt. “I got them later, after I’d found out about lycans. They are badges of war, I assume much like the ones you wear.”

“I notice everything about you, Rose.”

Her eyes widened in surprise when another thought occurred to her. “How did you know I’d been following you for a month? I used the deer urine, and no other lycan has ever caught on before.”

“Rogues haven’t been around as long as ancients. The deer urine trick is a good one, but if you’re going to follow a lycan around for longer than a day or two, you should probably get more than one bottle. After all, what are the chances of that same deer following you around place to place? I was on to you within the first couple days, but you are good. I’ll give you credit for that. Every time I thought I had you, you’d disappear like smoke.”

She hadn’t thought about a lycan scenting the same urine from the same bottle, but it was a logical conclusion that she should have come to. She was beginning to realize how much of a role luck had played in her survival all these years. She had skills, but her approach had not been infallible.

“I think you and I are closer to being on the same page than you think. I hunt rogues. If I think they have a chance to be reformed, they get that chance. Otherwise . . .” He shrugged.

“I don’t have that luxury. I kill all the ones I can.”

“Do you still believe I should be killed? I am a lycan, but I am also a man. I don’t hurt others, Rose. I don’t enjoy inflicting pain on anyone, and I don’t like to kill others of my kind, even though sometimes it’s necessary. I think you are narrow-minded on this subject. After all, we aren’t all that unlike humans. There are good people, bad people, murderers, molesters, and every other type, but you don’t go around killing everyone you come across because some of them are monsters. Yet, that’s what you chose to do with us. Why?”

She couldn’t deny he had a point, and she couldn’t say that she believed he deserved to die now after spending time with him, but she couldn’t allow any of the real monsters to get away. All it took was one to wreak havoc on someone’s life, just one to create a tragedy that could kill or scar emotionally for a lifetime. If she had it in her power to make sure not even one more person like Tammy died because of these monsters, she had to continue on. But Knox isn’t a monster, is he?

Knox watched the uncertainty dance over her beautiful features. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was finally getting through to her. She looked as if she was beginning to better understand lycans, and if that was so, she was probably also feeling a bit torn about some of the things she’d done in the past.

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

She looked at him with her pale blue eyes, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her, taste her, breathe her essence into his soul, where she would remain for eternity.

“Do what?” she asked quietly.

“I already told you, chances are, until me, all the lycans you’ve come across have been rogue. An ancient would never try to hurt you, nor would one be easy to take out, as you’ve found out.”

She watched him, and anger colored her cheeks as her brows drew down and her full lips pulled into thin, straight lines.

“So what am I supposed to do when I come across one of your kind? Wait to see if he wants to rape me or take me home and protect me before killing him? Or maybe I should just say, ‘Hey, I’m Rose. Are you a rogue or an ancient? Just wondering because I didn’t know if I should kill you or not.’”

He understood her logic, but she was missing the point altogether. She shouldn’t be hunting lycans at all.

He got sick to his stomach when he thought about how many times she’d exposed herself to danger, and how long she’d been doing so.

“How about you don’t put yourself in that position to begin with? There is no reason for you to do so.

There are others like me who are working to bring our race back under control and instill the ones who have strayed with the honor we pride ourselves on.”

But something was driving her to do what she did, and he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him. He knew, better than most, that the only way to heal old wounds was to deal with them head-on. The worst thing to do was submerge yourself into the dire muck of desire for revenge. There was never a satisfactory outcome for revenge. Revenge only bred more contempt and anger.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why you hate us so badly.”