Page 21 of Brock’s Mate

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Because that’s what you did. Never, never admit to anything you’re accused of. “That’s crazy,” she added, for good measure.

He didn’t blow up at her, or try to intimidate her, the way Jered would have. Instead, he studied her for a long moment. The car was dark, but somehow she could see him clearly. His eyes were shadowed, but she’d swear she could see the gleam of gold in them.

Finally he spoke, his voice deceptively mild. “Really? Is this the first time you’ve woken up somewhere, naked, not sure exactly how you got there or what happened to your clothes? Or maybe not knowing where you left your car, but when you find it, it’s miles away from where you woke up?”

No. It wasn’t the first time. And he knew it. She wasn’t fooled by the mild tone, either—she could feel the ferocity underneath his cool exterior. He was tough, and dangerous.

And he knew things. Things she needed to know. But she had to be careful.

“It’s not miles away this time,” she said. “It’s right over there.”

But she’d made a mistake, and he picked up on it immediately. “This time?”

Damn. To distract him, she changed tack. She had to know about the blood. She had to know what she’d done.

What she was.

“So is this your blood?” she asked, gesturing with the balled-up napkins.

“What?” he said. “No. It’s cow blood.”

She almost gagged again, and swallowed hard. “I was eating a raw cow?”

Brock put his hand reassuringly on her arm, almost like a reflex. Like he was used to soothing upset people. What was he? Doctor? Dad? Psychiatrist? Serial killer?

She wet the napkins again and wiped off the rest of the blood, subtly shaking off his hand. He didn’t try to hold onto her.

But she couldn’t wipe away the knowledge that was crowding into her brain. All the little things—and the big things—she’d been trying to forget or explain away, ever since she’d been with Jered.

Blood and bruises and waking up naked and alone.

She dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “Fuck it all to hell. I’m a werewolf, aren’t I.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

She waited a beat, and then added, “I’m waiting for you to tell me that’s ridiculous.”

“I know you are.”

“But you’re not going to say that, are you.”

“No.”

She let that sink in. After all these months of worrying and wondering and thinking she was crazy, it was almost a relief. “Are you one?” she asked him.

He hesitated, and then said, “Yeah.”

“Was Jered one?”

“Probably.”

“And he bit me, and now I’m a monster.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice steady. She didn’t show people what she was feeling. That would give them power over her.

She took a deep breath. “So what do I do now?”

She needed to know so many things. Was there any way to control this? Or was it like the movies, and she’d have to lock herself up during full moons?

Brock said, “We need to get you to a safe place. If this Jered guy knows your new phone number, he may also know where you’re staying. We can leave your car here for the moment.”