Page 16 of Ranger’s Justice (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #1)

CHAPTER 15

CASSIDY

I sit frozen, my fingers clenched around the laptop, the glow of the screen the only artificial light in the vehicle. The warehouse in the distance is quiet now, the girls bundled in blankets, drinking water, their hollow eyes darting toward me as if they can feel the change in the air.

Blood pounds in my ears as the screen flickers and I watch live feed from a security camera. I see them. Rush, Gideon, and Gage, standing among the wreckage, the bodies, the aftermath of something I shouldn’t be able to explain.

I saw them shift. I saw them hunt. I saw Rush tear into those men, a predator in the purest sense, a force of nature that didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch.

This is more than just knowing. More than just suspecting or hearing about it secondhand. I witnessed it.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The rational part of my brain tries to catch up, tries to catalog what I just saw into something manageable. But there is no managing this. There is no categorizing the sight of a man shifting into something else and taking lives like it was a dance he’s done a thousand times before.

If this footage ever gets out—if the world sees what I just saw—people in cartel circles won’t just whisper about Rush as a nightmare. He would become a legend. And legends? People would hunt and hound him and his men, turning them into lab experiments.

The feed flickers as the camera refocuses, the image sharpening. And then Rush moves. His body twists, his wolf form still massive, still terrifying, his fur matted with blood—not his own. His golden eyes glinting in the light, burning with something too deep, too ancient to be fully human.

He turns directly toward the camera—directly toward me.

I suck in a breath. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like I’m watching him through a screen. It’s as if he sees me.

The predatory intensity, the raw possessiveness in his gaze, sends a shiver through me. He stands there, still half-feral, his breathing ragged, his muscles still coiled like he’s not done hunting. Like if anyone so much as looks at me wrong, he’ll tear them apart next.

The mist unfurls around him in tendrils of blue and gold, wrapping him in a cocoon of energy, lightning crackling along his skin, thunder rumbling through the feed like an echo from another world.

And then Rush is standing there, naked, covered in blood, muscles tight with lingering tension.

His golden eyes lock onto the camera—onto me—his lips parting on a single word.

I don’t hear it, but I know what it is—mine.

I keep reminding myself that I ought to be horrified, but I’m not. All I feel is heat.

My breath comes fast, shallow, my fingers gripping the edge of the laptop like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. My heart pounds, a wild, erratic beat that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man I just watched shift into something else. Something deadly.

Something undeniably his.

Rush.

Even now, as I sit here in stunned silence, staring at the frozen frame of his bloodied, half-feral face locked onto the camera, my body betrays me. A slow, aching pulse blooms deep inside me, radiating outward until I feel flushed, overheated. I clench my thighs together, as if that will somehow smother the reaction I have no business having.

Because this changes everything.

I swallow hard, dragging in a shaky breath, trying to calm the riot of emotions clawing through me. The camera feed flickers off, but the image is burned into my mind. Rush, stripped of his humanity, his wolf fully unleashed, tearing through the men who tried to escape like they were nothing more than prey.

And then—those last seconds.

The moment he shifted back. The way his eyes locked onto the camera. On me.

It wasn’t just a look. It was a statement: You see me now. You know what I am.

Because as much as my rational mind screams that I should be terrified, that I should be questioning what the hell I just witnessed, the rest of me—my body, my instincts—react differently.

I press my lips together, squeezing my eyes shut. Damn him. Damn him for doing this to me. Damn him for making me want him even now.

The warehouse still hums with the indistinct murmur of voices—Dalton, Gage, the rescued girls whispering to each other, unsure of what happens next. But I barely register it. I’m still attuned to Rush, even with miles between us.

I can’t shake him.

The way his body moved—fluid, powerful, lethal—before he shifted. The way he prowled after his prey, merciless, unrelenting. And then the transformation itself—lightning, mist, energy rippling through the air, reshaping him into something otherworldly.

It should have been monstrous. It wasn’t. It was the most beautiful, terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. He’s also the most dangerous thing I’ve ever wanted.

A hot, traitorous throb between my thighs makes me grit my teeth. I press my hands against my lap, furious with myself, with my own body for betraying me so easily. I should be questioning my sanity right now, not biting my lip to suppress the urge to squirm in my seat and relieve the aching need coiling inside me.

A creak of footsteps snaps my head up. Dalton.

He pauses a few feet away, his affable grin replaced by something far more knowing. “You good, princess?”

My cheeks burn. He knows. Goddamn it, he knows.

I school my expression into something neutral, ignoring the flush crawling up my neck. “Fine.”

Dalton snorts. “Yeah? Because you look like someone just rocked your world from about a mile away.”

I glare at him. “Screw you, Dalton.”

He grins. “Not happening. Rush would kill anyone who tried to take what’s his.”

“I’m not his.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles.

I clench my jaw, inhaling through my nose, forcing my body to cooperate. I will not let him get to me. Not now. Not while I’m still trying to process everything.

Dalton watches me for another beat, then shakes his head. “Come on, sweetheart. We need to get moving before the boss man gets back.”

I force myself to nod, pushing to my feet, still feeling the ghost of Rush’s hands on me, his voice in my head. His wolf. And worse than all of that? The part of me that wants him, anyway.

The hum of the SUV’s engine vibrates beneath me, a steady pulse against the silence that’s stretched between Rush and I since we left the warehouse. The convoy moves in formation, kicking up dust in the moonlight, headlights cutting through the dark as we make our way back to the hideaway.

Dalton, Deacon, and Gage are taking the girls into town, arranging safe transport and medical attention. The rest of us—Rush, Gideon, and me—are heading back to regroup, to deal with the aftermath of what transpired. Gideon takes the other SUV, leaving Rush and I to ride alone together.

Rush hasn’t said a word since we got into the SUV. He’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, his knuckles tight, the tendons in his forearms corded with restraint.

I can still feel the weight of what I saw pressing down on me, suffocating. The carnage. The hunt. The way he tore through those men with the ruthless efficiency of something not entirely human.

Something terrifying. Something breathtaking.

I shouldn’t be aroused right now. I should be horrified, shaken, and questioning everything I witnessed. Instead, I’m caught in this maddening, impossible place between fear and desire, between knowing I should run and knowing I never will.

Rush is restless. His energy crackles in the air around us like a live wire, his wolf still too close to the surface. Every movement of his body, every controlled breath, screams of a fight he’s barely winning.

I watch him, my pulse quickening. “You need to pull over.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look at me. “We’re almost back.”

“I don’t care.” I shift in my seat, turning toward him, studying the tension in his shoulders. “You’re crawling out of your own skin, and it’s going to eat you alive if you don’t deal with it.”

His fingers flex on the wheel. “I’ll deal with it.”

I exhale sharply, biting back the frustration bubbling in my chest. “Pull over, Rush.”

He ignores me initially, then—after a pause—he drives onto a small dirt road and stops at a cliff’s edge, revealing the vast desert below. Dust kicks up around us as he throws the SUV into park and shoves open his door without a word.

I watch him stalk toward the back of the SUV, the stiff set of his shoulders, the way his muscles coil with barely contained aggression.

Something inside me snaps. I shove my door open and follow him.

He’s standing with his hands braced on the floor of the cargo area, his head bowed, his breath coming hard and uneven. The desert air is cool against my heated skin, but my body is burning, flushed from the argument that hasn’t even started yet.

I stop a few feet away. “You want to talk about it?”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “No.”

“Too bad,” I say, stepping closer and crossing my arms. “Rush, I…”

“I don’t want to hear whatever it is you think you need to say, Cassidy.” He turns, leveling me with those storm-gray eyes, dark with something I can’t name. “Not right now.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, but I don’t back down. “I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t change things. What I saw…”

“What you saw doesn’t change shit.” His voice is low, rough, vibrating with the same barely leashed intensity that has my stomach tightening. “You knew what I was.”

“Seeing you take on one guy is one thing,” I snarl. “But you and the others, you killed those men. No arrest, no trial, just execution.”

“They deserved worse.”

I know that. I know that. And still…

I drag in a shaky breath. “You weren’t just defending those poor girls or serving justice. You hunted them down so you could kill all of them.”

His lips curl, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that isn’t quite a smirk. “We let one live.”

I won’t tell him how much it turned me on.

Instead, I ball my fists—furious at myself, at him, at whatever this is between us. “Damn it, Rush. You don’t even care, do you? You don’t care that you and your men will never be normal. I just don’t know if I can…”

He moves before I can finish, closing the space between us in an instant, his hands gripping my hips, his body pressing into mine until my back is flush against the SUV.

Heat floods through me, a sharp, blistering wave of desire that I have no business feeling.

Rush’s voice is a dark rasp against my ear. “Say it.”

My breath stutters. “Say what?”

“That you don’t want me.” His hands tighten on my hips, dragging me against the hard length of his body, making me feel exactly how much he wants me. “Say you don’t need this.”

I can’t, and damn him, he knows that.

My nails dig into his arms, my head tipping back as his mouth skims along the curve of my jaw, his stubble scraping against my skin, sending a violent shudder through me.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” I whisper, even as I tilt my hips, even as my body betrays me.

He growls low in his throat. “Say it.” He hesitates. “Too late for that.”

His mouth crashes against mine, hot and demanding, stealing every last ounce of fight I had left. My arms go around his neck, dragging him closer, and then it’s all heat and desperation, all clashing teeth and tangled tongues and mine, mine, mine.

Rush strips pants from my body, grips my thighs, lifting me onto the edge of the cargo area, spreading my legs to settle between them. My hands fumble with his belt, yanking at the leather, shoving his jeans down just enough. He reaches between us, tearing my panties aside, and then…

Oh, God.

He thrusts into me in one deep, unrelenting stroke, filling me so completely I forget how to breathe. I cry out against his mouth, my fingers curling into his hair, pulling, clawing, needing more, needing him.

He groans, his forehead dropping to mine, his breath ragged. “I tried, Cassidy.” His voice is raw, breaking. “I tried to let you go, but I can’t.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, rocking against him, taking him deeper. “Please, don’t let me go.”

Something in him snaps. He grips my hips, holding me still as he starts to move, slowly at first, then harder, faster, each thrust sending fire licking up my spine.

“Yes,” I moan, nails digging into his back. “Rush?—”

His hands slide up my back, one tangling in my hair, the other gripping my waist like he’s holding on for dear life. His mouth finds my throat, kissing, sucking, teasing, flooding my entire being with warmth.

Until I feel him nip the skin of my neck and he sinks his fangs into me. Where the hell did those come from? I know what it says in the paranormal romance books, but nothing I’d ever read had prepared me for the searing pain.

The bite inflicts a sharp, savage pain as it spears through me. His teeth sink into the flesh just beside the hollow of my throat. My body shatters, pleasure slamming through me so violently I can’t do anything but cling to him, my cries swallowed by the vastness of the desert sky.

Rush begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, building up speed as he watches me writhe beneath him. His hands grip my hips tightly, never letting go, even as our bodies slap together in rhythm. Every thrust sends sparks through me, making me want him more and more until I’m moaning again - a combination of pain and pleasure that only he can elicit from me.

I look up at him, eyes wide and filled with desire. “Harder,” I beg him softly, loving how he dominates me.

He smiles, and without pause, he obliges. His rhythm intensifies; his thrusts are deep and powerful now, each one hitting my sweet spot just right to induce one orgasm after another within moments of the last one subsiding. He’d once threatened to fuck me so hard that I’d be begging him to finish. I’m nowhere near that point.

And so we continue, Rush pounding into me relentlessly while I grasp his forearms, my back on the floor of the SUV cargo area and my legs wrapped around his waist. I cling to him as if my life depended on it, both of us seeking release in this primal bond we share. It’s exhilarating; it’s terrifying; it’s intoxicating. In this moment, I am completely and utterly under his control, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

He fixes his gaze on mine, his eyes dark with lust as he drives into me over and over again. I am a vessel for his passion, a willing participant in his desire. And as he nears his climax, I can see it in the way his muscles tense, the way his breath quickens, the way his eyes flash dangerously. And feel it in the way his cock twitches and swells inside me.

Thrusting harder and faster now, he nears his release. His breath is ragged, each word an effort as he says, “Mine. Now and forever.” And with that, he thrusts one last time before spilling himself inside me with a hoarse cry.

As he collapses against me, his body still locked with mine, we remain entwined for several long moments. His breaths are shallow and labored as he recovers from our passionate encounter. I stroke his back gently as he pulls out of me slowly.

I tremble, still panting, still reeling, as he finally withdraws, his tongue sweeping over the bite, soothing where he just marked me.

I should be angry. I should fight. But all I can do is lie there, my body still pulsing around him, my mind hazy with exhaustion.

His lips brush my ear, his voice a dark whisper. “Now you don’t have a choice.”