But maybe she could turn this to her advantage.
"There's another thing I'm not sure I believe. You made a big production out of pretending to want me back at the roadhouse. I get that maybe you did that to avoid raising suspicions with the others. And once we get back here, you didn't waste any time pinning me on the ground. But the minute you got the information you wanted, you—" left me there, a small, forlorn voice inside her protested. Stacy imagined squashing it like a bug. "Took off."
Vonn stilled, his hand holding the spatula hovering over the pan.
Then he gave a sudden, loud bark of laughter. Stacy froze—not in fear, but at once again having no idea how to interpret his actions. She'd never felt so off-balance with a combatant.
"That's really how you're interpreting what happened out there?"
"I'm not interpreting anything," Stacy responded, stung. "It's what happened."
"Nope." Vonn picked up the pan and slid the omelet onto a plate. "What happened was you proved that you would rather die a horrible death than accept your true nature and admit your attraction to me."
Stacy's head was starting to throb with the effort of sorting through the conflicting thoughts and emotions knotted together in her mind. She had lost the thread of what was true, of what she'd been sent to achieve. "I…anyone in my position would have done the same," she stammered.
"Bullshit." Vonn slammed his fist down on the counter, making plates jump. He glared at Stacy for a long moment before tossing down the spatula and coming into the living room, where he towered over the chair, much too close. "Every goddamn word out of your mouth is a lie. I know it's all they fed you in your training, but at a certain point, you're going to have to own up to the truth."
"I-I'm not lying," Stacy protested, hating the quaver she couldn't keep out of her voice, knowing it gave her away.
"Then why do you keep contradicting yourself?" Vonn lowered himself to one knee so that he could look her directly in the eye. His features, shadowed by black stubble, might have been carved by the same granite his house was built on. His brow was lowered in consternation over those melted-ice eyes. "You keep telling me how much you want to get away, but what goes on inside you when you fight me doesn't have a whole lot to do with fear. I could smell the want on you long before you started to gush slick, you know." Stacy started to protest, but he shut her down with a growl. "You'd rather die than let me touch you the way I want to. The way I need to. But when I leave you alone, even though it's harder than ripping a tree out of the ground with my bare hands, you act like I took your pony away."
Stacy's mouth worked, but it was hard to make words when the heat inside her had flamed into life, threatening to release more of the slick Vonn was trying to convince her he could detect. It didn't make any sense. She didn't want this. Didn't want him.
And yet, the words she blurted were plaintive. "So why are you ignoring me?"
"Do you really believe I don't want you?" he thundered. "Even when you've taken that poison, even when you're smothering your nature, it's taken every ounce of my will to keep my hands off you."
A rush of heat soaked Stacy's panties, and she squirmed at the sensation, rubbing herself against the chair cushion. At the same time, she wished the floor would swallow her.
"You're lying," she whispered.
Vonn's hands tightened into fists, but otherwise, he might have been made of stone. "You tried to kill yourself on my own fucking land. So maybe you can cut me some slack for thinking you might need some time and distance to adjust to your new life."
Stacy shook her head, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear every beat. He was wrong—he was also right. She was convinced now that his instincts really were as impossibly strong as he said. Still, everything else seemed like a puzzle with no answer.
She wanted him to step back, to put some space between them so she could breathe. But she couldn't seem to tell him. The words were lodged in her throat.
And meanwhile, her nipples were hard against the soft flannel of her shirt, aching to be touched. Her legs had fallen open without her even realizing it. And her mouth, still swollen and bruised from that kiss, twitched with the desire to take him inside, to run her tongue around that huge swollen bulge in his pants, just inches from her face—
What was wrong with her? Was this some brain misfire caused by the interaction of her nature and the suppressant and this alpha being way too close to her? Had Fulmer lied to her about the workings of the chemicals?
"Vonn—" she gasped, not even sure what she was trying to say, what she was asking him for.
But it didn't matter. He knew. Even though her own mind seemed filled with a sensuous fog, Vonn seemed to have no trouble seeing through it.
"I was wrong to give you space," he muttered, almost to himself. "You're already in a war between your natures. What you need is for me to show you."
"Sh-show me what?" Stacy asked, her body arching up toward him of its own accord, the churning deep inside her refusing to be ignored.
"What you really are."
Vonn reached out his hand and slid it around the back of her neck, his touch lighting fires along the way. Then he swept her up into his arms and stood, gazing down at her in the dappled sunlight slanting through the windows.
Stacy didn't fight.
