Page 6 of A Token of Blood and Betrayal (Kennedy Rain #4)

I rounded on him. “Good thing it’s not your job to protect me.”

Blake stopped a pace away. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. Didn’t show any sign I’d gut-punched him at all. Maybe it was the lack of reaction that gave it away, that said I'd not only hurt him, I'd dismissed an instinctual part of him as if it was nothing.

I swallowed the burn in my throat. I hadn't wanted to wound him—didn't like that I could—but if this was what it took to push him away, so be it.

I started walking again. Blake did too, hitching Deagan higher up on his shoulder. The atmosphere was heavy with humidity, my unspoken apology, and this forbidden connection between us.

Our footsteps echoed off the stone path, sharp in the quiet night. I focused on our destination, trying to maintain my composure and pretend I was in control, that I could keep everything from unraveling.

When we finally reached the detached building, Blake flattened his hand against its door, preventing me from pulling it open.

“You were at the compound on Thursday.” The rough edge returned to his voice. Good.

Accuse me.

Hate me.

Make me the villain. Eventually he’d see we weren’t meant to be.

“Move your hand, Blake.”

He kept it on the door. Stepped closer. “The reason I know you were there? You weren’t capable of leaving Deagan to die any more than you were capable of leaving me on the mountainside.”

Everything I’d felt that night swooped in and capsized me.

The brush of his lips. The heat of his body.

The connection we shared each time I quieted his wolfsbane-poisoned mind…

Long before we met Lehr on the road, I’d stopped kissing him for survival and started kissing him for pleasure.

For desire. For the need to fill the void in my soul only he could access.

“We need to forget about the mountain,” I said. The words physically hurt.

Blake took another step toward me. “Why?”

“Because…” I fumbled for the right thing to say. “Because you’re reading too much into what I did. I was trying to keep you human.”

“Want to try again?” His tone changed, hardening in a way that reminded me he was easily dominant enough to be an alpha. He was issuing another challenge, daring me to prove I didn’t want this. Want him.

I forced myself to look at Deagan’s limp body instead of Blake’s penetrating gaze.

Even if I wasn’t a Rain who had to maintain neutrality, if Blake wasn’t a werewolf and Lehr wouldn’t kill him, now was the worst time to get into any kind of relationship.

I needed to help Deagan recover, set up a process for any paranorm to book a hotel room, and I would find a way to protect Garion.

He wouldn’t pay for my mistake. My blunder.

“You used to never look away first,” Blake said quietly. “What changed?”

I suppressed a grimace. He was right. I’d spent the majority of my life meeting every paranorm’s gaze, holding it to prove I wasn’t just another weak human who’d bow to their power and magic.

I don’t know when that shifted with Blake, when I’d started to feel too transparent and vulnerable, or when I’d handed him the power to wound me without so much as a scratch or bruise.

Bracing myself, I met his eyes again. “Nothing changed. You’re still Lehr’s strongest werewolf. I’m still Kennedy Rain. Your priority is the pack. Mine is dismantling the system that gives it power.”

I could have listed more reasons we couldn’t happen; I didn’t have to. His expression hardened because he knew I was right. He should stop pursuing me. I should stop believing in fairy tales.

Finally he let his hand fall away from the door. “I need a favor.”

His words extinguished the heat in my veins. Envelopes and favors. If I didn’t know better, I’d accuse him and Jared of competing to see who could make me snap first.

“What do you want?”

“Talk to Nora about rejoining the pack.” Blake smoothly slipped into his dominant werewolf persona, and that was a good thing. I could handle alpha Blake much better than I could handle his human side.

“She won’t unless Lehr accepts Jared,” I said.

“He’s never going to do that.”

“Then she’s never going back to the pack.

” I yanked open the Catalans’ door and walked inside.

Compared to the Catalans’ exterior, which featured a sloping roof and double balconies wrapped in decorative wrought iron, the interior was rather average and plain.

A common room occupied most of the ground floor, with an ancient yet still sturdy and playable pool table sharing space with a pair of couches that faced an old, first-generation flat-screen TV.

Both couches were occupied. Astrid had claimed the one on the left, her nose deep in a grimoire heavy enough to count as a weapon.

Melissa sat on the right couch, her boots kicked up onto the driftwood coffee table.

Melissa didn’t smile when she noticed us, but she didn’t frown either. Her gaze locked onto Blake. If she was surprised to see a werewolf carrying an unconscious vampire, she didn’t show it.

Astrid’s expression wasn’t nearly as impassive though. Her eyebrows lifted. “Is he dead?”

My peripheral vision caught Blake looking at me, probably with amusement gleaming in his eyes.

“He’d be ash if he was dead,” Melissa said.

“Even inside The Rain?” Astrid asked.

Melissa opened her mouth. Closed it. “Good point. Did he die after he crossed the threshold?”

“He’s not dead,” I said, not quite hiding my irritation. “We’re taking him to a room.”

“And then Blake will be leaving?” The way Melissa asked the question made it sound almost… impolite? Rude? She wasn’t exactly challenging him. It was more like she was a poker player sizing up her opponent’s hand.

“I might decide to stay,” Blake said, his voice slowing to a lethal drawl.

The muscles in my shoulders took on the tension building in the room.

What was this? Just the normal competition that existed between vampires and werewolves?

Or was Melissa channeling the animosity Christian and Blake had always held for each other?

Either way, she was much too young to disrespect someone like Blake.

“He’s not staying,” I said, answering Melissa’s question. “We’re taking Deagan to a suite on the third floor. Is Christian around?”

If she’d kept her gaze locked onto Blake one second longer, he might have interpreted her behavior as a challenge. Fortunately, her expression softened when she looked at me. “He left with Phedre and Thordis. Why?”

I waved away the question. “Just wanted to talk to him about something. It’s not important.”

It was sort of important. Jared said he wouldn’t have brought Deagan if he were dangerous, but Jared couldn’t really know the state Deagan would be in when he woke up.

I wanted to make sure he was watched by someone who could handle him, and Christian would be perfect.

He’d survived more than a few skirmishes with paranorms, partly because of his military background but also because he was smart.

He’d designed two different chemical concoctions to temporarily disorient vampires and werewolves.

Then he’d found a way to compact and enclose the mixtures into tiny marble-sized orbs.

He’d woven them into the black macramé bracelet I wore around my wrist, which he’d given me before Blake escorted me to Beltane.

I motioned Blake toward the stairs.

“Third floor?” he asked, shifting Deagan into a more manageable position.

I nodded, barely suppressing an apologetic grimace. Blake didn’t have his werewolf strength and stamina in the Null, and he’d been carrying Deagan for a while now. Even though he didn’t show it, he had to be getting at least a little tired.

Blake gave me a look but headed to the stairs without a complaint.