[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws by Winter Pennington

wolf looked up, ready to run and meet that energy face-to-face, to take it head on because it was invading her space. I envisioned a curtain between Ackerman and me, a thick velvet curtain that confused not only my wolf, but Ackerman's energy trying to search through mine.
    "You're different," she said, but the look on her face didn't match the tone in her voice. Her brows furrowed in fierce concentration. I realized, because she'd only had a quick taste of my energy, a flicker of response, that she hadn't gotten a taste of my wolf. In order for her to fully recognize me, she'd probably have to touch me, but touch could ruin both our controls, and I wasn't sure Ackerman was willing to take that risk, especially if she wasn't certain I was a shape-shifter.
    "What are you?" she whispered, hand sliding down, closer to my heart chakra. My pulse sped. For some reason, I didn't want her playing her energy there. I stepped back, several steps, still focusing on a thick curtain between us.
    "I'm different," I said, "We'll leave it at that." But my voice was breathy, distracted by that warm play of energy.
    She moved her hand as if she were going to touch me again, and I made a mistake. I stupidly, out of instinct, caught her wrist to stop her.
    The reaction was instantaneous. Heat. So much heat. As if my hand was going to burn her. As if we were both flames, and when the flames touched they burned hotter.
    Ackerman leaned her upper body toward me, and this time I was too slow.
    The curtain rippled as if the wolf was going to dive through it.
    I heard Ackerman take in a harsh breath, trying to catch my scent.
    Fuck.
    Ackerman said, "That's how you took down a werewolf that was more than twice your size."
    The look she gave me was a little too sly, mirroring her animal counterpart.
    "The rumors aren't true," she said, shaking her head. "I knew they weren't when I confronted you earlier today, but…"
    I was drawing deep, careful breaths, trying to stifle and soothe the curious wolf within. "What rumors?"
    Her fox-like gaze shifted to Lenorre. "That she had turned you."
    "What?"
    Ackerman seemed to relax now that I was the one tense and struggling. "A few of the cops think that you've been turned."
    She smiled when she said that last bit.
    I frowned.
    "If the cops have seen me in broad daylight why would they think that?"
    She shrugged very slowly. "They think you're a Lightwalker."
    "A Lightwalker?"
    "That is purely fictitious," Lenorre said smoothly. She came to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her energy, for some reason, calmed the wolf, and she stopped impatiently and curiously skimming the curtain I'd envisioned. A part of me knew what she wanted. She didn't want to get out and raise hell. Ackerman had disturbed her and she wanted to investigate the source of the disturbance. I didn't know how the wolf would react to a fox, and I was unwilling to find out.
    "A Lightwalker?" I asked again. "I'm guessing that's supposed to be some kind of vampire?"
    "There are humans who believe we can walk willingly into sunlight."
    "Without being toasted?"
    "Something like that, but it is purely fictitious."
    "Is it?" Ackerman asked Lenorre.
    "Yes."
    "I almost believed them." Ackerman turned to me. "God knows, you're pale enough and you move differently than the rest."
    I'd have to watch myself from now on. I didn't know I moved that differently.
    I heard a door open, before Arthur's voice carried, "Kass?"
    I turned and held up a hand.
    Ackerman said. "You keep my secret. I'll keep yours."
    "Done," I said and went to turn to the house.
    Ackerman caught my arm. Lenorre took a step closer, but Ackerman kept her gaze on me. "I want to talk more about this," she said. "You may not be a vampire," she whispered, "but you're not like I am, either."
    I sensed the wolf prick her ears, mirroring my agitation.
    "Ackerman," I said, "Don't touch me."
    She pulled her hand away.
    "We will talk."
    "Maybe," I said.

CHAPTER  eight
    ne thing is for sure, even if