Dark Desire by Shannan Albright Page A

hedged, unwilling to give Laris over to the Enforcers’ protection. For some reason he
refused to analyze, the thought of her being at HQ or even Atlantis alone and
in custody, brought a surge of protectiveness through him that he couldn’t beat
back with logic.
    “At least let me
take Cici to Marcus,” Tegan reasoned.
    Zeke struggled
with the unreasoning anger gripping his gut, threatening to shred him. “Fine,
but Laris stays here … with me. Are we clear?” he
growled. He could expect that type of behavior from Tegan, being a panther
shifter. He knew the animalistic urges the man combated daily, yet here he
stood, growling like some damned animal.
    Christ, I am losing it, big time.
    “Like crystal.”
Tegan backed off.
    Smart man.
    “I’ll just get Cici and we’ll get the hell out of here, all right?”
    Zeke knew he
should feel guilty as hell over his behavior, but right then, he couldn’t give
a fuck who he pissed off. He just nodded, not trusting
his voice to come out normal, and turned back to the window, pinching the
bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in a vain attempt to still
the pounding headache, which took up residence between his eyes.
    He had a sinking
feeling in the pit of his gut. Things were only going to get worse from here.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    “That’s
bullshit, and you damn well know it.” Temple’s low growl filled the room, his
knuckles bone white on the cell he held to his ear. The newspaper lay across
his desk, his face splattered all over the front page. He paced his office,
feeling caged with no exit to safety in sight. “When did your paper start
running conjecture? You’re just like those gossip rags reporting Bigfoot
sightings.”
    “Are you denying
Mr. Pope’s claims that you’re one of the dark breed freaks?” The voice at the
other end held a sneer of superiority.
    He fought the
urge to hang up on the SOB, but he needed to do damage control. His call to the
damn editor in chief of the newspaper, Roger Ashton, was not going as smoothly
as he hoped. The story of a wolf in CEO clothing amongst the poor, unsuspecting
humans was selling papers like it hadn’t in years. His jaw ached from grinding
his teeth together in an effort to keep from shifting.
    “This is a witch
hunt, and you know it. There is nothing to substantiate this claim. It’s just
the word of one man. A man who admittedly wants to purify the
world of dark breeds. What’s next, people with
brown hair, or better yet anyone who is taller than five-eight?”
    “You’re still
not denying the claim, Mr. Fox. Are you or are you not a dark breed?”
    “Would you print
a retraction if I said no?”
    “Not without
irrefutable proof. A blood test, DNA, you know.” Now it was Ashton’s turn to be
evasive.
    “And you have
irrefutable proof I am a dark breed?
Let me see your proof, Mr. Ashton. The next call is to my lawyer if you don’t
retract your story.” Temple spoke softly, a dangerous sign to any who knew him
well.
      “Let’s not be hasty. I can scan over the pics
I have of you turning wolf, and then you tell me what you would think.”
    “I’d think
Photoshop. Surely you’ve heard of the process of image manipulation?” Temple
drawled out, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You have twenty-four hours to
retract your statement. If I don’t see it, you will be talking to my lawyer,
and I can assure you, Mr. Ashton, you will wish you cooperated with me once he
is done with you.”
    He thumbed his
cell off and cocked his arm to throw the damn thing against the wall when it
sounded with a loud chirp. His wolf howled with rage as he ripped control from
it, tethering it on a tight leash. The bitch had him between the balls, and he
knew it. Worse, Amari played her hand with the precision of a born strategist.
He never saw this coming. What would she gain from exposing him to Pope’s
little army of humans?
    “What?” he
snarled as he connected to the caller.
    “We have a