He glanced at his hands. Would the human agent live? Marley sure wouldn’t. Not when he got his hands on her.
He stalked to the phone and dialed quickly. Dane answered on the second ring. “Where the hell are you?” the other shifter asked at once.
His gaze tracked to the peeling ceiling. Hell was a pretty good description. “Langdon’s.” The name of that cagey fox. Dane would know the place. He’d cleaned up there often enough. No telling how much blood this room had seen. He exhaled. “We need a team on Prentmore.”
A low whistle. “That’s close to where Jess and his coyotes made their base.”
“And it’s where you’ll find two more dead coyotes. But they’re not the priority.” His gaze locked on Sarah’s gun. “They can f**king rot. I need a nose to search the scene.”
“Whose scent are we after?”
“Marley’s.”
“What? What the hell was she—”
“She’s FBI.” Who wasn’t? “And she’s also been the one working with Rafe.” The agent who’d flipped. Not Sarah. Not Karen. The demon who’d been right under his nose. “Find her, follow her scent, and let me know which hole she crawls into.”
Because he’d drag her out, and when he did, he’d find Rafe.
Lucas exhaled, feeling the aches in his muscles. “Has Caleb talked yet?”
“No, not yet . . . he’s still out.”
There is no cure. “Get out to Prentmore.” He could count on Dane. He’d track the demon. “But don’t take Marley out, got me? No matter what she says or does, she’s mine.”
Because she’d lead him to Rafe.
He ended the call, his hands yanking at his shirt. The water was still running and he wasn’t going to leave Sarah in there alone.
Crave her.
Need her.
He was naked by the time he crossed the threshold into the bathroom. Steam curled in the air, and he could see the outline of Sarah’s body behind the thin shower curtain.
For a moment, he just watched her. She had bent her head beneath the spray and her shoulders seemed to shake a little. Fuck. Was she crying?
He yanked the curtain back. She didn’t whirl around in surprise. Didn’t even look up. Lucas climbed in behind her. When the water hit him, the clear liquid changed to red as the blood washed from his body.
He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Lucas didn’t want to touch her with the blood still on his hands. He grabbed the soap. Lathered and scrubbed until his flesh was clean.
Sarah moved forward, letting more of the spray hit him. The water stung a bit. She had it on full-blast and it was hot and it was just what he needed.
The red water slowly drained away. His hands looked clean again. What a lie.
But he reached for her anyway now. Lucas wrapped his arms around Sarah and pulled her close.
“Sometimes, it seems like I don’t know who to trust anymore.” Her whisper.
“You can trust me.”
“I have to trust you for this to work.” She turned in his arms, facing him. Her head tilted back. Her black lashes were wet, spiky. From the shower or tears? Probably from both. “You told me that before.”
It was still true now.
“But do you trust me?” She asked him, then shook her head. Her hands curled around his shoulders. “After everything, how could you?”
Her lips trembled. He bent close and brought his mouth over hers. “Trust me,” the words probably shouldn’t have come out as an order, but they did. His mouth took hers, and his tongue thrust deep.
She moaned in her throat and her nails bit into him. Trust me.
He yanked tight onto his control. This time, he’d show her that he could be more than just the beast the world thought he was.
For her.
He forced his head to lift. Her eyes were big and deep. Eyes that a man could probably lose his soul in—if he had a soul.
Sold mine long ago.
Blood. Screams. Death. Had the trade been worth it?
He lifted Sarah out of the tub, wrapped one of the threadbare towels around her, and carried her to the bed.
He put her down on the mattress and stepped back. She opened her arms, almost immediately, reaching for him.
Worth it?
He went to her and knew that nothing would keep him away from her. Not now. Not f**king ever.
He didn’t touch her with his hands. They could be too hard. The claws could break through flesh too easily. And the damn wolf always wanted her.
He used his mouth. Kissed her lips. Stroked her with his tongue. Then he licked his way down her throat. Her body arched against him, her hips and thighs shifting so that he felt the move right over his swollen cock.
The minute her clothes had hit the floor, he’d gotten hard for her. Blood, death . . . didn’t matter. He’d wanted her.
Would have killed to have her.
The thought didn’t give him any pause. After all, he’d known for a while now that he’d be killing for Sarah.
The towel had come loose and her ni**les—tight, hard peaks that looked like perfect cherries—waited for him. He licked her nipple, the sound of her moans filling his ears.
Gentle.
His claws dug into the sheets.
He took her breast into his mouth. Sucked. Licked. The taste of her spilled onto his tongue. So f**king sweet. So . . . Sarah.
His breath blew over her nipple.
“Lucas . . .”
He turned his attention to the other breast.
The edge of his teeth scraped over her flesh.
She gasped, jerking.
Control.
His mouth left her flesh.
“No! No, Lucas, I liked—”
He kissed her stomach. Worked his way down her body, touching her with his mouth and tongue, caressing. Her legs parted for him and the scent of her arousal filled his nose and drove him wild.
Control.
“Open your legs wider.” His voice was a growl. Dammit.
But she opened her legs wider. She brought her hands between their bodies, and she used her fingertips to part her sex for him. “Kiss me, Lucas.”
Fuck, yes.
He did. His lips took her. He sucked her clitoris, used his tongue to taste and to take and her breath came faster, hitching, gasping as her lips lifted and she pressed closer to him.
He drove his tongue inside of her.
Her hands were in his hair now, urging him closer and she was saying . . .
“I want you, Lucas! Oh, yes, now, come on, I need you—”
He was starving for her. So he took more. More.
She came against his mouth. Her whole body tensed and a broken scream ripped from her throat. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Because he had to have—