He slid his hands in her hair and kissed her hard. He wanted to tell her what she meant to him, tell her how he felt about her, tell her what he really was, but one kiss was all he had time for.
When he lifted his head, she was gazing up at him with tear-filled eyes, and the sight of them tore at his heart. “Remember—count to five, okay?”
“Why? Gage, what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to do to protect you.”
The whole back of the barn was engulfed in flames now. He rose to his feet, ignoring the pain of his wounds.
“I’m sorry,” he said raggedly, then turned and ran toward the door, shifting as he ran.
It was almost a relief to finally allow his teeth to elongate and his claws to come out. He wouldn’t need the MP5s on the floor now. With his speed, strength, claws, and fangs, he was a killing machine.
Mackenzie didn’t know that, of course. And as he ran out of the barn, she screamed his name.
* * *
Mac knew Gage was going to do something reckless and dangerous when he’d shoved his pistol into her hand—she just hadn’t known what.
When he’d said he was going to get rid of the men, she thought he was going to grab one of the machine guns the thugs had dropped, but he hadn’t. Why would he do something so insane?
She wiped away a tear with her free hand. She had to get it together. Gage was depending on her to go out there in five seconds.
How long had it been?
Longer than five seconds she was sure.
Outside, the sounds of gunfire filled the night, followed by shouting. Mac’s blood turned to ice in her veins. There was no way Gage could survive that many bullets.
She jumped to her feet and ran across the barn. The fire and smoke had sucked the oxygen out of the place and it was hard to breathe. Pieces of hay and wood floated through the air like dandelion fluff, burning her skin, but she ignored them.
Fresh air hit her like a slap to the face when she got outside, but it was nothing compared to what she saw that completely took her breath away again.
Two of the gunmen were already dead, their bodies torn and bloody. A third lay on the ground trying to reach a machine gun a dozen feet away, his leg twisted at an odd angle and badly bleeding. Dear God, the men looked as if they’d been mauled by a wild animal.
She searched around wildly for Gage and saw him locked in a struggle with the fourth man. They each had a hand around the other’s throat, trying to squeeze the life out of their opponent. The man twisted the machine gun in his free hand and pointed it at Gage.
Suddenly remembering the pistol in her hand, Mac aimed it at the man and squeezed the trigger, praying she shot him and not Gage. The bullet hit the man in the leg, and he made a strangled sound, relaxing his grip on his weapon.
Gage let out a growl, then lifted the man off the ground and flung him into the air. Mac cringed as he smashed into the burning barn to be consumed by the flames. She didn’t realize she’d made a sound until Gage spun around to face her.
Mac gasped. At first she thought the smoke from the fire was still affecting her, or that shock was making her too dizzy to see straight. Because what she saw couldn’t be real.
Gage’s shoulders were broader; his brow heavier and more furrowed; his hair longer; his stubble thicker; his ears slightly pointed at the tips; his jaw wider; his canine teeth now long, dangerous-looking fangs; and his eyes no longer a soulful brown, but a deep yellow-gold so bright they almost glowed. And on each hand, his nails had turned into wickedly sharp claws.
She was so focused on Gage, she completely forgot about the man with the leg wound until Gage growled and leaped fifteen feet to land behind the guy. The man grabbed the machine gun on the ground and rolled over to shoot, but Gage caught the weapon and ripped it out of his hands. He punched the guy in the face—hard.
That was it—one punch and it was over. But Gage still picked him up and slung him at least ten feet through the air to land in a crumpled heap near the entrance of the burning barn with his companions.
Gage turned to her, his body tense, his eyes on fire, and his lips pulled back in an angry snarl. Mac took a step back, her hands bringing up the pistol before she even realized what she was doing. That was when she noticed she was holding the camera, too. She was a journalist. Catching action on film was second nature to her—she did it without thinking.
When Gage stepped closer, she stepped back. He stopped and raised his hands in a silent gesture. He locked eyes with hers, and despite how afraid she was, the sadness there made her heart squeeze in her chest.
Mac shoved the camera in her rear pocket so she could use two hands to steady the gun. She wanted to think Gage wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t even know if the thing in front of her was Gage anymore.
“What are you?” she asked.
As she watched, the monster in front of her slowly shifted back into the form of the man she knew—or thought she knew. But the four dead bodies made it impossible to forget what she’d seen.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Gage said quietly. “And I’m sorry I scared you.”
The hurt in his eyes tore at her, but she refused to give in to it. “Answer my question. What are you?”
The muscle in Gage’s jaw ticked. “I’m a werewolf.”
A werewolf?
It was insane.
And
