Kayla shook her head. Damn tears. “No, you don’t—”

In a flash, he rolled toward her. He leapt up and came at her with claws ripping from his fingers.

Not defenseless.

Claws . . . because Gage Riley wasn’t human.

Shifter.

His blue eyes shined at her with the light of the beast and he put those too-sharp and too-long claws of his at her throat.

The move actually seemed only fair, considering that she had her knife pressed over his heart.

“Hello, hunter,” Gage whispered.

Her own heart shoved hard against her chest. “How long . . .” Kayla licked her lips. Why was her mouth so dry? “How long have you known?”

He brought his head in close to hers. Inhaled her scent. Pressed a light kiss to her cheek. Did he taste the salt of her tears? “Since the first time you walked into my bar.”

What? Kayla shook her head, lost, confused. He’d known since then, and he’d still—

His claws skated lightly over her throat. He didn’t break the skin. Didn’t hurt her. But she knew one slice would cut open her jugular.

“Are you really going to kill me now?” Gage asked as he pulled back to study her with a cocked head. “Just hours after our wedding?”

She was supposed to.

That was her job. As a hunter, she was the one sent out to keep the humans safe in this world. When a supernatural crossed the line and started killing, her team was sent in. They delivered justice. They were the heroes.

Only she didn’t feel like any kind of hero right then.

Killer.

“Was screwing me part of the deal?” Gage demanded as his voice roughened.

Her eyes slit at that. Maybe it was deserved, and maybe it damn well wasn’t. Instead of stabbing him, she wanted to punch him right then.

“If so,” Gage continued with a shake of his head, “that was a rather fatal mistake.”

They were at a supernatural standoff. Claws versus silver. If he’d just sheathe his claws . . .

“Cause now that I’ve had you . . .” Gage smiled at her, and revealed his growing canines. Sharp. “I think I want another bite.”

He’d kept his fangs from her. Kept the claws away last night. But it looked like he was done playing nice.

So was she.

The bed was rumpled. The air smelled of sex. He was naked.

She stared into his eyes. If he knew what she was, then Kayla had no idea why he’d married her. Sure, she’d been ordered to say the “I do” bit. She’d been told to do anything necessary in order to get past his defenses.

Gage Riley ran the wolf pack in Vegas. Since the wolves had moved to town just eight months ago, hell had hit the city. Supernatural madness. Attacks. Killings.

The pack had to be stopped. By any means necessary.

But sex wasn’t a means. Making love was more. Far more.

“Lower yourclaws,” she told him and managed to keep her voice totally calm. Rather impressive under the circumstances, but she’d been trained to be cold. Passionless. I’m not that way with him. “You aren’t going to kill me.” Those words were the truth because she’d learned a few things about Gage during their time together.

More than a few.

He wasn’t a heartless bastard. Not a cold-blooded killer.

I won’t be wrong about him.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Then that half-smile that had always charmed her curled his lips. “Killing you isn’t what I have planned at all.”

He dropped his claws and there still wasn’t so much as a scratch on her skin.

Gage glanced down at his chest. She’d nicked him with the blade, and drops of blood slid down his flesh. Blood—and the faintest plume of smoke.

The old legend was true. Werewolves—or, in this case, wolf shifters—and silver just didn’t mix.

“Now are you gonna cut my heart out?” he asked and his smile hardened. “Though to confess, sweetheart, it sure feels like you already have.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Wait, what? Did he mean—

But then Gage’s head jerked up. His nostrils flared and she knew the wolf was pulling in scents. “Company.” A snarl. His eyes had never looked so cold before. A chill skated over her. “Guess that’s your backup, huh?” Gage charged.

No. She wasn’t supposed to have any backup. Not yet. And she couldn’t hear anything. But . . .

But Gage had a shifter’s sense of smell and hearing. Far, far more advanced than a human’s. That was why it was so hard to take out shifters. They always saw their enemies coming, or smelled ’em. You couldn’t sneak up on prey that could hear you from a mile away.

“I won’t go down easy,” he promised, and she believed him. It would be a bloodbath for whoever came in that door.

Kayla shook her head and dropped the knife. It fell to the carpet without making a sound. “You won’t go down at all.” She’d be punished for this. No question. But . . .

I won’t kill him.

Sometimes, even a hunter had to break the rules. Especially when she’d started to go soft for her prey.

Kayla turned away from him. If more of her team members really were heading down that hallway—and why hadn’t Lyle told her that he was sending in a team so soon?—then Gage would have to act fast. “We’re three floors up, but that shouldn’t be an issue for you.” Shifters could easily survive a fall from that height. He could jump out of the window and vanish. Simple. With dawn just breaking, there wouldn’t be too many folks out to see him, and if any did, they’d just think they were having some kind of hung-over delusion in Vegas. “Go now, before they arrive.”