Hunter's Fall
step beside him, Dominic shot him a dark look. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
    “Wanted to say I’m sorry.”
    Well, shit. Maybe the bastard didn’t have those two brain cells.
    Thanks to his preflight meal—courtesy of Lindsey—Dominic had plenty of blood circulating in his body. Right now, it circulated right up his neck, settling in his cheeks as humiliation and shame curled through him.
    He worked to bury it—it had been years. Years. He wasn’t helpless anymore. He’d been in medical school before the attack and since then, he’d worked with so many victims—he knew all the logistics. The feral vampire that had Changed him had done a hell of a lot more than that, showing Dominic just what it felt like to be brutalized.
    Dominic had done his time in hell. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t to blame.
    But even now, the memories still had the power to sneak up on him and sucker punch him like this.
    “Leave it alone, Lassie,” he said, hearing the edge in his voice and not caring.
    Toronto sighed but said nothing else, ambling along at Dominic’s side, hands tucked in his pockets.
    Kelsey met them halfway between the hangar and the plane, smiling at Toronto. The werewolf caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Kelsey, you look gorgeous. Leave that fucking vamp of yours. You need a warm-blooded man.”
    A smile curled Kelsey’s lips and she leaned forward, kissed Toronto on the cheek. “I’ll be sure to give him your regards, Toronto.”
    Toronto grinned at her. “You do that.”
    As Kelsey focused on him, her smile faded. Dominic’s gut clenched. She arched a brow at him, her green gold eyes curious. “Well, you don’t look happy to be here.”
    Dominic didn’t say a word.
    He’d rather be sunning himself on a beach somewhere. Even though it would leave him with a murderous sunburn—literally.
    Charred vamp sounded a hell of a lot better than having some witch play armchair shrink for him, and he had a feeling that was what lay ahead for him.
     
     
    T HE drive to Excelsior took place in silence. Dominic appreciated that. He’d much rather the interrogation start once he was wherever he was supposed to crash for the duration. Preferably some place loaded with tequila. If he got enough of it in him, maybe it would dull the effects. Might take a tank of Patrón, but he could do it. He thought.
    Toronto wasn’t hanging around—one small favor, at least. Dominic’s mood was pushing toxic and if he had to listen to the werewolf’s wisecracks for too long, he’d lose his own damn temper.
    That wouldn’t help things at all. Physically, he was strong and could hold his own against non-masters.
    But if he went after a Master werewolf, he’d be doing the same thing he did when he sparred with Rafe—wiping his own blood off the floor.
    Nope. Wouldn’t help. Although a good, vicious fight . . .
    “You know, I don’t bite.”
    Dominic slanted a look at the witch. She looked like a schoolteacher, he decided. He’d met her once or twice, but hadn’t ever seen her for more than a few minutes. She had strawberry blond hair, big hazel eyes and freckles sprinkled across her nose. She’d be the kind of teacher half the boys had a crush on, and the girls would love her, too. She just had that way about her.
    Right now, she was smiling a little, glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she drove the sleek little Mustang down the road. Her brow arched and he remembered—she’d said something.
    Oh, yeah. He remembered now.
    But he didn’t how to respond to her comment, so he just shrugged.
    Kelsey sighed. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you that you aren’t going crazy?”
    “It might.” Cautiously, he shifted in the bucket seat, studying her profile. “You think you’ll be able to tell me that?”
    “Oh, I can already tell you that.” Kelsey shot him another smile and then hit her blinker. As she slowed the car down for the turn, she

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