“No, we were more than that.” A smile slunk across his face. “Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what?” Veronica nailed him with a glare meant to kill.
“We kissed in eighth grade.”
“When we played spin the bottle?” she screeched. “It was one kiss! It didn’t mean
“It meant something to me.” His tone changed from good ole Patrick to dark and scratchy. “You were my first kiss. The first girl I claimed as my own.”
“The first girl you—oh, hell no.”
“I was so upset that I had to break your heart by leaving.”
“Break my heart?” Was she hearing him correctly? “You didn’t—my heart was never yours!”
He shook his head, a dopey smile stretching across his face. “We dated off and on for years.”
He’d snapped, and was primed for the loony bin.
If Veronica had a free hand to smack her forehead, she would’ve. “We. Never. Dated. Not once. You’ve lost your mind. Seriously. You should get yourself checked.”
“We were close, don’t you remember? Closer than friends. It hurt our relationship that you had so much studying to do on weekends, but I understood. I knew how seriously you took schoolwork.”
“Yeah, I was busy.” An infuriated laugh bubbled out of her. “But that’s not why I turned you down when you asked me out. I don’t know how many more times I have to say this, but we were
“You were mine,” he said. “We had a friendship that bloomed into something beautiful. You were my first everything, Veronica. My first kiss, my first date, my first love. I tried to romance you with the anonymous letters and flowers. Did I play the part right?”
Her stomach dropped. “What part?”
“Isn’t it every woman’s dream to have a secret admirer, someone who watches out for her and loves her from afar?”
“Oh God.”
“See, I know what you want, what you need, without you ever having to say the words. We’re perfect for each other. Soul mates. Do you blame me for wanting to take you back?”
She flailed. “Is that what you’re doing with me? Trying to take back what you think is yours? News flash for you, buddy. I’m not yours. I never was and I never will be.”
He backhanded her so quickly Veronica felt the sting before she heard the smack. She stared at the rooftop. The night had flipped head over end…
“I hadn’t planned on you and Logan jumping into the sack so quickly, so that makes things a bit more difficult, but I think this will still work.”
She blinked back stinging tears. “What will work?”
“Well,” Patrick said, standing with his hands on his hips and looking around. “I’d planned on revealing myself tonight and bonding with you, but if Logan has already marked you as his, I’ll simply have to take him out of the picture before we commit our lives to each other.”
“You need to be committed. Period.” Veronica jerked her hands and feet, and this time, Veronica yanked so fast and so hard, the bottom half of the chair broke. She hit the rooftop and rolled onto her side.
Patrick scrambled to pull her upright, but the elevator doors burst open and Logan charged out in wolf form, snarling and foaming at the mouth. He was huge, his back raised in a sharp ridge, his shoulders hunched, his neck thick and wide.
“Ready to defend your woman?” Patrick said, releasing his hold on her chair. “Veronica was mine before she was yours, so that means we have just as much to be fighting for.”
Logan growled, vibrating the air around them. He stepped closer. He caught Veronica’s gaze, and behind the anger and fury, there was tenderness.
…
Logan couldn’t hear Veronica’s thoughts, but he could read them in her eyes. She looked fine. Unhurt. On second glance, her cheek was puffy and starting to turn a deep shade of red.
Rage surged through Logan’s body, hot and fast like bolts of lightning. He was going to rip Patrick’s throat out. He stalked closer. Even from here, he could smell that horrible scent that clung to Patrick like a death cloak.
“It’s cologne,” Patrick said, walking behind Veronica. “A special mix that a witch doctor in Silverdale made for me. It cost an arm and a leg, but it masks the wolf scent from our kind. Once I saw you move in across the street from her, I knew I had to do something if I wanted to keep a close eye on my love.” He brushed hair out of Veronica’s eyes. Logan was going to bite off every finger that touched her. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d be together now.” He glared beneath bushy brows. “She loved me first. She’ll love me again.”
Logan circled wide, drawing Patrick away from Veronica. Patrick paced until his back faced the elevator and Logan’s back was nearly flush against the half dome building where he and Veronica had lain not twenty-four hours earlier.
“But first, I have to get rid of you,” Patrick said, and smiled.
Patrick was a turned wolf and couldn’t shift unless there was a full moon. Last time Logan checked, the moon was waning. Patrick was at a major disadvantage.
Logan rushed him. Patrick pulled a Taser from behind his back—probably the weapon he’d used on Carter. He fired. Logan leaped aside, barely missing the zinging strands as they snapped by him. Logan charged Patrick as he reloaded, clicking another cartridge on the gun. He was on Patrick in two bounding strides, knocking him off his feet. Logan glowered over Patrick, his feet on either side of his cowardly body. Patrick shoved the square head of the Taser into Logan’s chest. At the blunt contact, Logan vaulted aside, a full-body recoil that saved his ass.
“You’re fast,” Patrick said, breathing hard, watching Logan stalk around him. “But it’ll only take one shot to bring you down.”
As Patrick aimed, the faint sound of the elevator doors grinding open hit Logan’s ears. Seething with uncontrollable wrath, Logan sprang.
“Logan!” Veronica screamed.
Patrick fired a second shot. He barely missed, the electrically charged wires buzzing by Logan’s ears as two hundred pounds of pissed-off werewolf landed on Patrick’s chest. Leaning down over Patrick’s face, Logan put all his weight into him, his front paws gouging into Patrick’s shoulders. His back paws slammed into the rooftop on either side of Patrick’s hips and pinned him down. Logan growled, rumbling with hatred that challenged Patrick to move a single muscle.
The sound of guns cocking behind them drew Patrick’s gaze around Logan’s lurking form.
The pack had arrived.
“You can back off, Logan,” Drake said, shoving the muzzle of a .40 Glock into Patrick’s temple. “He’s not going to move a muscle or he’ll meet his maker before he’s had a chance to ask forgiveness for his sins. Right,
Patrick tried to put up his hands, but Logan pushed more weight into his shoulders. The pastor cried out. Logan lowered his face to his. How easy it would be to bite through Patrick’s neck and sever his jugular vein. It’d be gory. Messy. A painful death. Exactly what he deserved.
“Logan…” Veronica’s voice penetrated the fog surrounding his brain.
His gaze met hers. Carter had helped her up and untied her hands and ankles.
“Logan, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out for him.
The air left his lungs on a sigh. Before he released Patrick, Logan snarled, snapping toward Patrick’s neck. He didn’t bite, but came close. Patrick needed to know that the only reason he wasn’t dead was because of his paper-thin restraint and Veronica’s plea.
“We’ll take him,” Drake said, as a group of packmates lifted Patrick off the ground. They shackled him and
