Twilight Hunter

I love you, Jace.

Her words had played in his head on a constant loop ever since she’d said them. But now, with her in hiding instead of by his side, doubt crept in.

A deep feeling tugged at Jace’s gut, and he knew he needed to be by her side. Something was wrong. She loved him—didn’t she? Shouldn’t she be here with him? A low growl escaped his throat. What was wrong with him? Why did he care so much?

“I need to see her,” he said.

David straightened. “Jace, you can’t. You need to stay focused right now.”

Without, hesitating, Jace said, “She’s joining me in tracking this sicko. I need to see her. We need to go after him now.” He needed to tell her the truth. He’d never said the words back, and he should have.

He shoved himself away from the wall, using all the energy his body had left to get himself out of there. Groaning, he stood up straight and stumbled toward the door.

“J!” David followed behind him as fast as he could. “J, you don’t want to go over there, man. Listen to me.”

Jace left and headed straight for his woman’s apartment.

* * *

FRANKIE SAT WITH her legs crossed on the edge of her bed. She stared down at the picture in her hands, the faces of her parents blacked out and ruined, and sighed.

Jace is a Skinwalker. A Berserker.

A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the symbol glowing between Jace’s shoulder blades. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t reconcile the two images, the two feelings couldn’t coexist in her mind. Jace was rough, his temper astronomical and his drinking...insane, but was he really capable of cold-blooded murder? The image of his gun trained on her the first night they met flashed in her mind. Even though he hunted her kind, he hadn’t killed her. So he couldn’t be completely evil...right?

She cursed under her breath. Even if Jace was related to her parents’ killer in some way, she needed his help to rescue Allsun. Damn it. She couldn’t fail her friend, but how could she ally herself with a Skinwalker?

The man she loved and the killer she hated more than anything, members of the same species. She shook her head. Her mother always told her life wasn’t fair, but she’d never said that it could be downright cruel. Frankie had learned that for herself—the hard way.

Running her thumb over the photograph, she tried to remember what her mother’s hair felt like, the feel of her father’s touch, but she couldn’t. Only three years since they’d passed, and already her memories of them were fading. She didn’t know which was worse: the pain of remembering their deaths or the realization that the man she loved might somehow be involved.

She set down the picture. The look of confusion in Jace’s eyes when he’d come out of his trance hadn’t been enough to convince her of his innocence. She’d bolted as fast as she could from the club back to her apartment. Since then, her thoughts had been racing nonstop, and she’d been unable to collect them so she could make any sense of how she felt.

The man I love.

She cursed herself. She was an idiot, a total fool. How had she missed the connection? His name carved in the girls’ forearms, her apartment being targeted just after she met him, the killer knowing his name, and now the symbol. And what did she get as a result? A man who didn’t love her, the possible murderer of both her family and her people. He hunted her kind. How could she ever love such a man? And yet she did.

A loud knock interrupted her jumbled thoughts. With mechanical movements, she wandered to the door and stared through the peephole. Her heart jumped in her chest.

Jace.

Shit. What was he doing here? Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Obviously she didn’t want to see him or she would have been by his side. She cursed herself.

You told him you loved him last night. How could he possibly know that’s changed?

Another knock, harder this time, and the door rattled in its frame. “Frankie, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” His voice came loud and clear through the wood, his tone tinged with frustration.

You said, “I love you,” but he never said it back. He never said it. What does he care if that’s how you feel?

“Frankie, please open the door.” His voice softened, as if his energy had suddenly run out.

She inhaled deeply, slid off the chain lock and opened the door.

Jace was standing in the hallway, leaning against her door frame. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he looked drained of all energy, but damn him, he was still gorgeous—still perfect in every way. And how could she possibly think that, knowing he might be connected to her parents’ murder?

She turned away and retreated into the apartment.

Following her, Jace stepped inside and shut the door. “We need to talk,” he said.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the wall. “You already said that when you were out in the hall. But I don’t feel like there’s anything to talk about.” Unless we count the crazy coincidences or the mounting pile of problems with our names on it.

“Did I do something? You’re angry.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to make her face him.

She pulled away and walked deeper into the apartment. She couldn’t look at him.

He followed behind her, close on her heels. “You didn’t check if I was hurt. I became practically possessed in front of your entire pack, and David said you just ran off afterward.”

Frankie scoffed. He was good, acting like he had absolutely no clue. Complete bullshit, and she knew it. “You’ve made it clear you can get along just fine without me. You don’t need help.”

Jace stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat of him against her back. He snaked his hand around her waist and gently pulled her against him. “I can get along without you, but did I ever say I wanted to?”

She pushed his arm off her. What kind of sick person was he, touching her when he knew how she felt? He was the ultimate temptation. Every inch of her wanted to believe him. “Don’t act like that. Not now.”

“Don’t act like what?”

She spun around to face him. “Don’t act like you care, because you don’t.”

He gaped at her. His expression changed from confusion to frustration. “I don’t care? How have I not shown that I care? I don’t know what else you can ask of me. I’ve suspended all my beliefs for you.”

Frankie frowned. “Suspended all your beliefs? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped toward her, his volume rising to match her own. “It means that even though I’m a hunter, I’ve worked with you. I’ve learned to shift. I even made love to you.”

She laughed. Made love? He had to be kidding. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Making love? Seemed at the time like you thought of it as just a quick fuck.”

He let out a low growl. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

He grabbed hold of her wrists, hard enough to hold her still but gentle enough that he didn’t hurt her. She didn’t know why he was keeping on with his ridiculous act. “Can you please tell me what I’ve done, so I can make it right?” Sadness filled his eyes. “What about last night?”

She looked away as she fought to escape his grasp. “How about when you lied to me?”

“Huh? Lied to you? When did I—”

She ripped her hands away from him and stumbled back. “You told me you were half-werewolf, but you’re way more than that. You’re a Skinwalker. Did you think it was amusing to pretend you were a werewolf so you could take advantage of me during my mating cycle?” Her stomach lurched. Damn, it made her sick just to look at him.

“What?” he roared. “You think I would have slept with you if I hadn’t been compelled to do it?”