Conner's Wolf by Jory Strong Page B

rejection it would always be.
    She’d ripped aside a veil and showed him a world he didn’t want to believe in, hell, one he’d said in a hundred different ways he wanted no part of. She should probably consider herself lucky he didn’t hate her for it. At least his scent had been free of that emotion earlier.
    “You think I can get a lift from you guys?” she asked the male officer, thinking maybe they’d be able to take her to her Jeep, or be willing to help her convince a cab driver that she was good for the fare.
    “Let me clear it.” He pushed away from the car and headed after his partner.
     
    “What a freaking nutcase,” Tyson, the cop to Conner’s left, said. “I hope he gets jail time instead of time on the psych ward.”
    “You and me both.”
    Tyson laughed. “Not that I’d mind being in a breeding program with the reporter. She’s a real looker.”
    “Yeah, she is.”
    Christ. He just wanted to get this wrapped up so he could deal with what else she was.
    His head felt like it was never going to be screwed on right again. But his cock was rock hard and the only screwing it cared about was finding its way back into her.
    Fuck! How could he want that so desperately? Knowing she came with a whole shitload of baggage labeled supernatural.
    The cop who’d been interviewing her got within speaking distance. “You need us to hang, Tyson?”
    “No. Saunders and I are going to stick. A unit is coming out to process the scene since this kidnapping is linked to the homicides at Stern’s cabin. You and Lake can head out.”
    “Okay.”
    Lake caught up to his partner then. He gave Conner a quick glance before speaking to Tyson. “The reporter asked for a lift. We’ll take her with us unless you’ve got an objection.”
    Conner looked at her then, daring the distraction he hadn’t allowed himself when he stepped out of the building. Across the distance their eyes met and he saw she intended to make this easy for him. There were no tears in them, no accusation. No regret or pleading. There was nothing but the same courageous resolve he’d seen before, the fierce determination to survive.
    Realization trapped his breath in his chest and tensed his muscles. A fight-or-flight response his heart understood.
    If he let her go now, all the times he’d told her he wanted nothing to do with the supernatural, all his negativity toward it would create a wall that could never fully be torn down. He’d lose her. And he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it.
    His feet were moving while his mind scrambled to get ahead of them, to have the right words by the time he reached her. He understood then how Trace could handle Aislinn being psychic, because loving the woman meant accepting the existence of things that couldn’t be sealed in an evidence bag or paraded out in front of a jury, or even put down in a police report without risking a forced leave of absence or a visit with the department shrink. It meant coping, the same way anyone who loved a cop had to cope with the baggage that came with the job.
    Determination and possessiveness grew with each step. She was his and he wasn’t going to let her go.
    He gripped Khemirra’s upper arms and jerked her against him when he reached her. “You’re not running away from me, baby.”
    Fire returned to her eyes. “Don’t accuse me of that, Conner. I’ve got sharp teeth and might just bite your ass off.”
    A laugh erupted, coming from deep within and surprising him as much as it did her. Jesus he loved her mouth. He loved everything about her, inside and out.
    “Yeah, well, I only just discovered the teeth thing. No more secrets, Khemirra. Promise me that I can accept all the rest.”
    Everything inside Khemirra stilled. The hope shattered earlier reforming though still fragile from the cracks in it.
    “Do you mean that?”
    “Try me.”
    “It’s a lifetime deal once the bond kicks in.”
    “Good, then what we have won’t become a casualty of the