She barely suppressed the urge to squirm under his hot gaze while he watched her for several minutes before he finally left the room and shut the door behind him. She plopped onto the bed and willed her racing heart to calm down. What had she been thinking letting him kiss her and touch her like that? Horny. That’s what you were thinking. She had to find a way to get away from him and fast.

She couldn’t risk getting entangled with the enemy. If she could find some way to escape him, she’d run without a backward glance. He would be one lycan who would get away, because she would never get near him again.

* * *

Knox leaned his head against the door of the bedroom he’d just vacated, or more appropriately, had just been kicked out of. God, Rose was the sweetest thing he’d ever put his mouth on. He could still taste her on his lips. The subtle, yet unmistakable, muskiness of excitement his kiss had elicited from her had told him that she hadn’t been as unaffected by him she’d like him to believe. But how would he ever convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy? He let out a frustrated breath and started down the hall to the living room.

Telling her everything was the only way he could think to earn her trust. If he could show her that not all lycans were monsters, maybe she’d begin to understand and see things in a new light. Maybe she’d be able to trust him. Besides, if he didn’t trust her, how was he supposed to expect her to confide in him? Whatever had happened in her past to make her hate his kind so vehemently had been monumental.

He’d have to earn her trust somehow, and telling her about his kind was the first step. Without trust there would be no hope for any kind of relationship with her. Even he knew trust was the most important part of the foundation between a man and a woman, and he would do whatever he had to do to show her he deserved her loyalty.

It was going to be a mighty bumpy road. The lady was bitter. Rogues had to be responsible for her deep-

seated hatred of his kind. What had happened to her? He couldn’t think about it too much because the possibilities sent blinding rage boiling through his blood. In fact, at this moment he wanted to beat the shit out of something. No, not something—a bloody rogue.

He waited until he could hear the soft, even breathing of Rose sleeping in the other room before he pulled the clean T-shirt he’d changed into earlier while she was showering over his head and shoved his jeans down his legs. The bandage he’d slapped over his wounds haphazardly to keep them from bleeding through his shirt stuck a little too well, and he winced when several of the hairs on his chest came off with it when he removed it. The wounds were already mending well, but he’d been looking forward to shifting to heal them the rest of the way.

He stepped out into the cold night air and inhaled deeply, welcoming the familiar and soothing scent of evergreen trees, snow, and the coming storm. The wolf in him crouched, ready to spring free, to run wild. He welcomed the wolf. It was part of him, had been for his entire life, and they worked well as a team. He snorted.

It wasn’t as if the wolf was a separate entity living inside him, always ready to get out. It was more like he had a split personality.

Yet, that wasn’t exactly the right terminology either. While a man, he used the wolf’s instincts, power, cunning, but as a lycan, his human side withdrew more and let the predator have the reins.

He would never hurt anyone in wolf form—he’d never hurt anyone period unless absolutely necessary—

but he was wilder, freer, all dominant animal when shifted.

He closed his eyes and let his lycan blood start the change. His fingernails elongated and twisted into claws that could rip the underbelly of a deer open in one smooth swipe. Since he was an ancient and capable of partial change, he could change as slowly or quickly as he liked. Rogues were not capable of partial change. An ancient in partial change was, at times, more lethal than one who’d shifted completely. Half lycan, half man was not an easy target to take down.

He breathed in deep, welcoming the tingling of his skin as fur popped through every pore, as incisors elongated into fangs, as his muscles, bones, and tendons rearranged themselves to take wolf form. It didn’t hurt to change—only the first time hurt—but every change was an intense emotional ride. It was as if part of him was being stolen—an integral part of him, like his very essence—but just as the overwhelming urge to cry out from the loss took root, the essence was slammed back into him. It was as if each time he changed, the two parts that made him who he was tore apart and then knitted back together, the wolf part dominant while in lycan form.

It wasn’t something he could easily explain. It was just one of those things you had to experience to understand the full meaning, like death.

He stood for another moment before shifting completely, and jumped off the porch into the snow as the last golden hairs sprang through his skin. He howled as he ran over the snow-covered ground into the thick-

treed forest, the wolf excited to be free. The wounds on his chest were already healing, and within seconds the last pricks of pain were gone.

He stopped by a huge oak tree that was a marker for the property lines and rubbed against it before putting fresh claw marks down the trunk, next to several others he’d put there on previous occasions. The wolf insisted on marking its territory, and Knox had no problem allowing the behavior. It was a natural and effective warning to other lycans who might happen into the area. He yipped and turned to run some more, but had only gone a few miles when he picked up the hint of a strange scent. He stopped and turned in circles, his nose pointing in the air. He sniffed a few times before a low growl of warning sprang from his muzzle.

It was the scent of a rogue, and the male was close, too close, to his female. He took off in the direction of the house, where Rose was sleeping, and prayed he made it there before the rogue.

Chapter Five

Rose shifted restlessly, trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Her senses screamed that something was wrong, but her sore body demanded more sleep. Her inner alarm bells clanged to high heaven, and she could no longer fight the imminent warning. She cracked her eyes open and slowly scanned the dark room. She remained perfectly still, not allowing one muscle to move, not wanting to alert whatever or whoever had disturbed her sleep that she was awake. At that moment, the moon chose to slip out from whatever cloud it was hiding behind and shined through the window—the window she’d earlier found to be stuck shut when she tested it for a possible escape route—and cast a soft glow over the bed.

A faint sound caught her attention. The scratching noise sounded as if someone were trying to pry the window open. Something or someone was trying to get into her room. She sat up slowly and reached for the bag Knox had brought in from her truck. She dug around in it for a weapon, but, of course, he’d removed them all. Thanks a lot, Knox. She had nothing, not even the dagger he’d returned to her in the woods, as he’d also taken it, along with her clothes, earlier.

Now what am I going to do? She slid silently out of bed, tiptoed to the wall, and pressed her back against the cold wood just beside the window. She fought the shiver threatening to shake her body and rattle her teeth, more from fear than cold, as she took quiet, deep breaths. She hoped she was simply being paranoid, and that the wind would end up being the culprit that had made the noise, but the clang, clang, clang of her inner warning bells were telling her otherwise. She’d learned long ago not to ignore them, and she’d be a fool if she did so now.

She inched closer, until she was standing next to the glass, cautiously leaned around to look out, and barely kept from screaming when she saw a huge gray wolf staring back at her, its front paws propped against the pane. She sprinted for the bathroom, the sound of shattering glass echoing throughout the room, and had just flung the door shut and braced herself against it when something slammed into it hard. The whole thing shook so hard her teeth clattered, and she was amazed it hadn’t shattered under the force. It took all her strength to hold the knob—why couldn’t it have a damn lock?—as it was jiggled furiously from the other side. A few seconds later, the jiggling stopped, and it was silent for a moment before something slammed into the door once again.

This time, the force knocked her back, landing her hard on her backside. When she looked up, a man with hazel eyes and stringy black hair stood glaring at her. His eyes were glowing, and he was naked. Just what she needed. Another lycan to deal with, yet this one didn’t look as if he’d play by the same gentlemanly rules Knox did. Speaking of Knox. Where the hel are you? For one dreadful moment, she wondered if this could be a friend of his. She sincerely hoped not because this one creeped the hell out of her. She got to her feet slowly and took a self-defense stance.

She’d been taught to run, when possible, if up against a stronger foe, but she had no choice in this matter—she was trapped. He was stronger, quicker, and she’d probably lose, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard.

“Come with me, and I won’t hurt you.” He held his hand out to her.

Was he freaking insane? Of course he is. He’s a fucking rogue. Did he think she was a dingbat or something?

No, he probably didn’t think of her as much of anything other than a piece of meat or play toy. There was no way she was going to go with him anywhere willingly.

“I don’t think so.” As much as it galled her to admit it, she really wished Knox would make an appearance right about now.

“You have the scent. You belong to me. You don’t have a choice.” He sneered at her.

“Last I checked, this was a free country, and we all have choices. I choose not to go anywhere with you.”

He took a step toward her, and she crouched and put her fists up in front of her, readying to defend herself. He stopped, his nostrils flared, and his eyes glowed brighter.

“I like a woman with some fight in her. You’ll be fun to break in.”

“Believe me when I say, you won’t like me in the least when I kick your balls up in your throat, buddy. I wouldn’t ever let a scumbag like you touch me.”

Her stomach churned, and bile burned the back of her throat. How many other women had he pulled this crap on? How many other women had he hurt? How she wished she had her bow or a dagger right now because she’d carve him a new one. He came at her. She dodged him and ran under his arm into the bedroom.

But he was quick—as were all those damned lycans. He caught her around the waist and slammed her to the floor face-first.

The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she gasped for air. He didn’t handle her with the gentleness

Knox had. In fact, his weight pressed her so hard to the floor, she could barely breathe at all. She was going to black out if he didn’t let up a bit. He fisted her hair and yanked her over onto her back, but the moan of pain she craved to voice couldn’t escape her oxygen-deprived lungs.

“Yeah, you’re going to be real fun to play with.”

She spit at him, and anger contorted his face. He raised his hand, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow to come, but it never did. Instead she found herself freed of the lycan’s weight. When she opened her eyes, Knox stood over her attacker, as naked as the lycan. Funny how she kept thinking of the rogue as a lycan, but not Knox, even though they were the same.

A small voice inside her whispered that they weren’t the same, but she chose to ignore it and the implications it held. She scrambled up off the floor and ran out of the bedroom, a need to get away driving her to the front door. She hadn’t been scared in a long time, but the encounter with the rogue had unleashed the fear from the night Tammy had died, and it rushed her from every direction. She had to run as hard, as fast, and as far away as she could. Unfortunately, her terrified mind didn’t take time to remember the fact that it was freezing outside and that she only wore a T-shirt. By the time her legs started cramping from the exertion, she was shivering.

* * *

Knox stood over the rogue, ready to kill him if he had to. The lycan struggled for breath through the hand