“But if that’s him, why would he let us—”

“I don’t know, but we’re not going to test his charity tonight. He’s a killer. We couldn’t even fathom the number of lives he’s taken over the centuries.” Gideon looked left and right as if he expected Darius to pop up from behind a parked car. They headed deeper into the parking lot, Gideon’s strides swift and angry.

“I don’t think he’d let us go just to come after—”

“The way he looked at you—” Gideon broke off, shaking his head. “I’m surprised he walked away.”

“Maybe we should go after him.”

“Let him go.”

“Why? Those other lycans mentioned a Benedict. I think he’s their alpha. Maybe Darius knows—”

“No, Claire. He may have shot one of his kind, but he’s not inclined to help us. And I don’t like the way he looked at you. Next time he may not let you go.”

“So what, then? Another night and no leads?” she demanded. “I’m going after him.” Spinning around, Claire stalked back down the alley.

Gideon’s hand clamped down on her arm, whirling her around. His green eyes glittered. “You want to give him a go at you? Is that what you want?”

A deep growl rose up in her throat. “Exactly. I’m a creature of passion, remember?” she mocked, wrenching her arm free and stepping back. Blood pumped through her veins thick and fast. He made a grab for her arm again and, without thinking, she brought her palm cracking against his cheek. His head jerked from the force of her blow.

Her hand flew to her mouth, drowning out her gasp. Even in the murk and gloom of the alley, she made out her handprint, white and stark against the swarthy skin of his cheek, evidence of her rage, a proclivity for violence that gripped her in its throes.

His furious gaze roamed her face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his gaze settled on her mouth, heat swept over her. Claire started to tremble, the familiar wanting sinking deep in the pit of her stomach and spreading outward. Helpless, she leaned in.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her against him, slamming his mouth over hers. She parted her lips, groaning at the sweep of his tongue inside her mouth.

His hands dropped to clench her hips, wedging her against him, his erection a hard ridge prodding her belly. She ground against him, wanting that hardness elsewhere, buried inside her.

A soft voice intruded. “Want me to shoot her for you, Gid?”

Claire spun around to face Gideon’s sister, aiming a gun that looked much too large for her slight hands.

“Kit,” Gideon groaned. “Put the damned gun away before you hurt someone.”