Crave the Night by Sharon Ashwood, Michele Hauf, Patti O'Shea, Lori Devoti Page A

fury. “Like
what?” he shouted.
    She bowed her head, her gaze fixed on her
plate. “I don’t want to talk about that. We were having a pleasant
conversation. Tell me more about your nephew. Tell me more about
anything.”
    He picked up a glass, but in a twist
of anger, he squeezed until it shattered in his hand. Glass and
water splattered the table, a thin stream of blood dribbling from
his fingers. “I can’t. I tried but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t
eat with the woman who threatens my wolves. Who has me
caged!
”
    “ Look,” she said, her mouth twisting
down. She stared at the blood, her face turning a sickly white. “I
don’t want to hurt your Pack. I really don’t. But I’m not going to
apologize for trying everything I can to save my own
family.”
    He wiped the blood from his hand onto his
napkin. It stung like fire, the bright red feathering into the
pristine fabric.
    She flinched. “Here. Let me do that.”
    He snatched his hand away. “I can
manage.”
    Anger flickered in her eyes, but it
collapsed almost at once. “I know I’ve done everything possible to
make me your enemy. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I meddled
with vows and magic when I was drowning in anger, and now . . . one
way or the other, I’ll be the one who pays.”
    Rafe tried to untangle what she was saying.
Sadness poured off her like a smoky perfume. She crumpled her own
napkin into a ball, unable to meet his eyes.
    She cleared her throat, drawing herself up
in her chair. “That doesn’t mean I’m not serious about needing Wolf
Creek. We can play the get-to-know-you-game, and it’s lovely, but
it won’t change anything. I like you—a lot—and I understand your
position, but I can’t give up. Not yet. Not while I can still
fight.”
    Rafe snarled with frustration, a low rumble
that ripped from deep in his chest.
    “ I’m sorry,” she said, rising from the
table. “Whatever you think of me, know that’s the
truth.”
    She started toward the door, then paused,
not bothering to turn around. Her spine straightened, as if she
were gathering her nerve. “You can finish your lunch here. Feel
free to sleep in any bedroom you like. As you can see, there’s no
way you can leave.”
    Rafe jumped up. “Lila! This doesn’t solve
anything.”
    Lila wheeled to face him. Her devastated
expression ground into Rafe’s soul.
    His mouth went dry, his gut suddenly hollow
with the hopelessness of their positions. “Lila . . .”
    She took two steps toward him and then
reached up to lay her hand on his cheek. Her touch was cool and
gentle, feather-soft. Rafe felt it deep inside him, not simply on
his skin but all the way to his core.
    “ I see you struggling so hard, working
against such odds.” When she spoke, her voice was so soft he could
barely hear it. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I need what
you have, and I don’t know how to make you give it to me. Not
without feeling worse than I already do. The only thing left is a
sacrifice, and it will either be yours or mine.”
    With that, her hand slipped away. Rafe was
left staring down at her, speechless with a wild sorrow. She was
adamant, but he couldn’t accept her words. He’d seen flashes of who
she really was. Surely there had to be another path to follow.
    He grasped her arms, pulling her to him. Her
eyes flared, but she didn’t pull back. His lips met hers with all
the force of his outrage. She made a noise of protest, but it soon
softened to something else, a low, throaty cry of hunger. The sound
of it went straight to his belly, melting his body in a painful
heat. She tasted like no female he had ever known, sweet and tart
at once like the honey of a citrus flower. He deepened the kiss,
plundering the softness of her mouth, feeling the soft sigh of her
breath on his skin.
    For that moment, as long as the kiss lasted,
she was his. All was simple. There was no trickery or plots, no one
pulling their strings.
    He felt the moment she responded,