Fangs of Anarchy: Forbidden Alpha (Part 4) In the Zone: A Werewolf Vampire Shifter Romance by Dakota Cassidy Page A

tighter, thinking that he was wrong. She didn’t smell like Funyuns . It was stale tortilla chips. There’d definitely
been some of those in the Dumpster she’d hidden in last night while two
cracked-out men fought with their equally cracked-out dealer.
    Irish unwound her arms from his neck, placing her hands on
his chest, and gave her that Irish look of reproach. “Now, now, Librarian. No
is not the answer I’m looking for.”
    She pressed her cheek to his broad chest, so happy to see
him. “Remember when I asked you to trust me?” she mumbled, inhaling his scent,
reveling in his strength, needing to be near someone good, someone with
integrity.
    “I do. That was three days and three nights ago, and at
least three hundred years off my life ago. You’ve gotten all the trust you’re
getting from me.”
    Claire gripped the collar of his jacket. “I can’t, Irish. If
I do, bad things will happen. Please believe me.” Bad things she wouldn’t be
able to control. A race war to end all race wars.
    “Bad things are going to happen if you don’t, Claire-Bear,
because I’m going to tie you to a bedpost and leave you there until you tell me
what the hell is going on. Now, I know you think I’m Mr. Pussycat these days,
and you can wrap me around your little finger with the bat of those gorgeous
eyelashes and the swish of your damn fine ass. But I’m
here to tell you, I deal with some downright unsavory assholes all the time.
You, infuriating lady, are cake. So, what the hell made you come to the Zone? Alone?”
    She walked her fingers up his chest, ran one along his
granite cheek and smiled. “Do you really like my eyelashes and my ass, Irish
McConnell?”
    “I’ll like them as much, if not more, tied to a bedpost.
Talk to me, Claire. Let me help you. Something—something much bigger than
you—is going on, and I want to help. You just have to let me.”
    Claire swallowed hard. She wanted to share. She wanted to
see the person responsible for this snowball from hell pay. Pay hard. But she needed proof this thing she was hunting for, this
heinous pig she’d mutilate given half the chance, really existed. She needed
proof for council—solid, irrefutable proof.
    Maybe she could tell him some of it—just a piece of it,
enough to keep him from browbeating her. She was beaten down enough. If Irish put the screws to her after three solid days of no food
and showers, she’d likely cave if he looked at her cross-eyed.
    He held up a finger under her nose. “But wait. You smell
like the breath of a thousand rotting souls. How about we go somewhere and get
you cleaned up? Maybe some food?”
    “Do you mean real food? Or someone’s leftover food from a garbage bin? Because I just don’t know if I can
stomach Abuelito’s cheesy nachos another day.” Her
stomach responded by rolling in wonky fashion.
    His coal eyes went concerned. “You haven’t been eating? I
know it’s the Zone, but there are plenty of places to eat, Claire. The depraved
eat, too.”
    She wrapped her arms back around his neck and sighed. “I had
limited funds, vampire. I didn’t want to use my credit card in case someone
tracked it. You know the government keeps a close eye on how and where we spend
our money. It was my estimation that Claire the Librarian frequenting an
establishment in the Zone would inspire suspicion. We, as a civilized race, aren’t allowed in the Zone, if you’ll recall rule number eleventy -billion from the government. And I only took a
little cash from the bank before I left so as not to raise eyebrows.”
    Cupping her jaw, he surprised her by grinning. “You thought
of everything, didn’t you?”
    She sighed, her shoulders aching from the tension of the
past three days. “Well, everything but where I’d sleep for three days…or
shower…or use the facilities.”
    His chuckle was light and breezy. “Get on that bike, and
don’t give me a hard time about it, Claire Montgomery.”
    She began to back away, shaking