Kayla flinched. “That wasn’t why I married you.”

Did he look stupid? Was he supposed to buy her BS because she was good in bed? Very good. “How many?” He gritted and his claws were ripping from his fingertips. Faint lines of red bled into his vision. The wolf inside wanted out.

“How many what?” She fired right back as her brows rose and her small fists went to her hips.

“How many men have you screwed for the sake of your cause?” He’d like to kill them all. Every single one. Slowly. Painfully. The wolf was good at giving pain. “In order to get close, how many times did you strip and—”

She moved fast for a human. No wonder she was such a good hunter. In two seconds, she was across the room. Her index finger jabbed into his chest. “Watch it, wolf, or you’ll make me lose my temper.”

Right. Cause that was scary. Last week, he’d beheaded a four-hundred-year-old Born vampire. So compared to him, a curvy brunette was oh-so-terrifying.

He lifted his claws and let them skate down her cheek. “Don’t make me lose mine.” His threat was lethal. Or it should have been, but it was complete bullshit. He’d never use his claws on her. He’d already seen the marks on her beautiful skin. When they’d made love, he’d felt her scars.

Other wolves had sliced her sweet flesh. He never would.

Her breath stilled on a rasp, but she met his gaze. No fear showed on her face. She should have been terrified. Instead, her lips tightened, and she gritted out, “None, okay? There haven’t been any others.”

Wait . . . none?

“Despite what you think . . .” She jabbed him again with that finger. “I’m not a whore. I don’t sleep with men just because of my job.” Then she whirled away.

I hurt her. Her shoulders were up, her back straight, and Gage felt like shit. But he still asked, “So what made me different?” As a hunter, she should have been repulsed by him. All the other hunters he’d met sure had been.

Hunters. Humans who’d learned the supernatural secrets and were out to keep the world safe—by getting rid of said supernaturals.

They were as vicious as any shifter, as ruthless as the vamps, and as conniving as the demons. In short, hunters could be damn near perfect at killing.

Unless you found their weak spot.

His gaze drifted over Kayla’s body. Hello, weak spot.

“Maybe I wanted you,” she said, not glancing back at him, but striding nice and slow toward the opposite wall.

Good thing she wasn’t looking or she would have seen his shock.

“Sometimes, you want something so badly . . .”—her voice dropped now, but because of his enhanced hearing, he had no trouble making out her words—“that you’ll do anything to get what youwant.”

He knew that feeling. Hell, he was looking at the thing he wanted most.

Enough to risk the pack.

She turned to face him and her features were a blank mask. “So, no,” she said, “I didn’t screw you for the job. I did that part all for myself. Because I wanted to be with you.” Kayla shook her head. “Sometimes, I make dumb choices. Sue me.”

He’d rather screw her again. And again. But they’d get to that fun task soon enough.

“What’s your excuse?” Kayla wanted to know as one dark eyebrow rose. “So you tagged me as a hunter day one, fine, I get that. Go you. But why keep pretending? Why do the whole courting bit? Why marry me?”

Was she really that blind? Had to be. Otherwise she’d realize she was the one who held all the real power. “Poor little hunter.” He shook his head and tried to look like he felt sorry for her. “What happened to make you this way?”

Her other eyebrow arched, and a faint line appeared between her brows.

“So untrusting . . .” He continued slowly, softly, and the memory of her scars beneath his mouth flashed through him. Poor little hunter . . .

“You’re a werewolf, of course, I don’t trust—”

“Wolf shifter,” Gage corrected as he cleared his throat. She knew the distinction. Calling him a werewolf was just insulting. “The moon doesn’t make me howl. I do that, whenever I want.” Nothing controlled him. No one. Werewolves were monsters made up by Hollywood. He was the real deal.

“And you do whatever you want, right?” she snapped. Her hands were fisted. Someone was feeling all feisty. Good. He didn’t like her emotionless mask.

“Yes,” he told her clearly, “I do.” That was the benefit of being alpha.

“No matter who you hurt.”

Ah, now she was getting personal. “I’ve never physically hurt you.” Wouldn’t. He protected those who fell under his charge and he’d never attacked an innocent. No matter what the supernatural rumor mill might say.

But other wolf shifters weren’t like him. There were some psychotic bastards running around loose in the world. He knew it, and the scars on Kayla’s body said she knew it, too. Of all the shifters, the wolves were the ones who danced the closest to the edge of insanity. Their beasts were just too strong to always be controlled by the men and women who carried them.

Wolf shifters needed a pack to hold them in check. To provide them with security. That was why he’d started the Vegas pack. Someone strong had needed to come in and take over, and the wolves—hell, yes, they’d needed to band together. No one wanted to start a bloodbath. No one wanted to turn feral.