She saw red in an instant. Spinning in her seat, she glared at him. “I’m not stupid, and I might be young, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He glanced at her for only a second or two, but she felt his anger surround her. “You didn’t plan. You didn’t tell me what was going on, and you easily put yourself in danger. Fuck, every woman knows you don’t go to a club alone, especially dressed like that.”

“Like what?” She couldn’t wait to hear this. Her mind was gearing up for a fight. She wanted one with him and bad, after what he’d done today.

He didn’t answer after a minute.

That made her yell. “Like what!”

“Like you’re looking for a damn fuck!” He yelled right back. His last word echoed once in the car before it faded, leaving her stunned and frozen.

“You think I’m a slut or something?” she asked in a soft, controlled voice. God, she couldn’t even believe this.

His hands curled hard around the wheel like he was trying to strangle it. “I didn’t say that.”

“Not in so many words.” Wow, she’d gone from hot to cold in a minute flat. The sexy, floaty feeling vanished, leaving her consumed with anger and bitterness. “What do you have against me being so young?”

“Just drop it, Vanessa. We’ll be home soon.”

“No, I’m serious. After what you did today, I think I at least deserve a fucking answer.”

He scratched at his head then ran an agitated hand down his face. “I’m warning you now, drop it.”

She laughed as if it what he said was the funniest thing ever. “Warning me? What could you possibly do to me that could be any worse than what he did?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. The fight left her in an instant. She turned away and burrowed toward the door. Her face burned and she ground her jaw. Nothing like airing one’s dirty laundry to the man that made your blood pump.

“Vanessa,” he called in a soft voice.

Tears blurred her eyes, clinging to her mascara, but she ground her jaw until she got it under control.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her head spun to him. “What?” She couldn’t hide the disbelief in her voice if she wanted to.

He looked at her, then back at the road, then settled on her eyes again. The anger had vanished from his eyes, leaving them warm and almost gentle. She didn’t really know if Brayden had it in him to be gentle. Her mind flashed to the night he saved her, carefully wrapping her in his jacket and carrying her all the way back to the pack. Okay, so maybe he did have it in him.

“I don’t think you’re a slut, Vanessa.”

She almost laughed. Wasn’t she the opposite of a slut anyway? Okay, well, maybe the opposite would mean she was a virgin, but considering her only sexual partner had been Joseph, and what a disgusting experience that had been, even she knew that didn’t count her as a slut. Hell, technically she’d done it ‘right’. She’d only ever had sex with her husband. Her lips pulled down and she tucked her arms around herself.

“It’s fine. Just forget it,” she said softly.

“Dammit...” he muttered.

A loud bang shot her straight up in her seat. She hadn’t seen it, but recognized that sound. He’d slammed his hand into the steering wheel. This got him that riled? Normally, she wasn’t one to give up, but even she had started to doubt her ability to taunt the great Justicar Brayden.

When they reached home, she didn’t say a word to him nor he to her. She trodded upstairs, closed the bedroom door behind her, and collapsed on the bed face first. She didn’t think about any of it. Just closed her eyes and fell asleep, which came rather easily—another point in alcohol’s favor.

Brayden slid his feet to the floor and buried his face in his hands. Damn, if he hadn’t royally screwed up.

First, he’d had to make that phone call. He had to try that tact. He didn’t regret doing it at, and hell, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he thought his influence with the Justicars might intimidate Joseph into agreeing to the divorce. Shit, that man had sounded confident that he’d get Vanessa back, that she might just come back to him on her own. If only he knew...

No, that wasn’t what made his stomach feel like a queasy pile of shit or why he really needed to feed again, though he just did yesterday. Stress. Stress did that to him. His friend, Dmetri, had once joked with him that had he been human, he’d probably weight twice as much, because when the stress kicked in, he craved blood like nothing else.

Nah, what made him feel like shit was Vanessa. Too beautiful and way, way too young. Sure, she didn’t remind him of the teenaged girl she’d been when he first met her. She’d matured, that’s for sure. Her eyes didn’t shine as brightly as they used to. She had a shiftiness to her eyes when they were in public as if just waiting for her nightmare to appear. He had to help her; it felt like an uncontrollable force in his body to see her safe and happy. And he wanted to kill Joseph Harrington...with his bare fucking fists until the man squealed like the pig he was.

He’d definitely made one mistake, he figured, as he strode to the shower, turned it on, and stepped under the spray. He’d seriously underestimated her appeal to him. He must be some kind of sick man or just desperate. He made quick work under the cool spray. When she’d been younger, he could easily, or as easily as possible, ignore things that had caught his eye about her. Now she was older, a young woman, and living in his house. Her sweet, light scent saturated every room, and he liked it. He liked having her scent around and he really liked the way she smelled. He ground his jaw and turned the water off.

She needed a good spanking after the stunt she’d pulled last night. His cock swelled at the idea and he ran a hand over his face to try to clear the image of what her rounded ass would look like. She’d grown to be thin with small breasts that looked way too good in anything she wore. He’d tried not to notice, he’d really tried not to notice how her ass looked in jeans, but it was like trying to ignore an elephant sitting in the room with you. Impossible not to look, impossible not to stare sometimes. She had a small, rounded ass. He’d found himself wondering how much it’d jiggle if he spanked it; how it’d feel in his grip as he rode her.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his dresser door shut with a hard bang then dressed as fast as he could. He grabbed a bottle of blood out of his cabinet and started chugging as he left the room. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off of her. Especially off the idea of her naked with his hands on her—something that couldn’t and wouldn’t happen, it seemed.

Shit. The image of her lithe body writhing against his last night, her face, her pouty lips so close to his zipper wouldn’t go away. Little did she know, he’d gone rock hard and he’d had a brief little fantasy of pulling his cock out right there to feel her lips wrap around it. Old fucking pervert.

She’s mated, his mind reminded him.

She also hates his disgusting guts.

Things were going to get dangerous if he didn’t get his libido and shit under wraps. Hell, if he didn’t, then she might just find herself under him, legs spread wide.

He turned into the kitchen, then stopped dead in his tracks. All thoughts, all protests, everything, stopped. His tongue dried up like all the moisture suddenly evaporated from the air around him. Vanessa was bent over with the refrigerator door open. She had a pink strappy shirt on that clung to her back and also rode up...a lot, revealing a lot of tan, smooth skin and the indention of her spine. In a powerful rush, his cock hardened like a damn pike.

His gaze fell lower and almost everything he’d wondered about her ass was right there at hip level. If he just came forward, his hips would press tight against her soft cheeks. If he just slipped those shorts down her hips, eased his zipper down, he could...