Page 60 of Rescued

Even if he had the capability of taking care of someone like her, he couldn’t give her the high life she wanted, or even the normal life she deserved.

But the thing was, when she was around, the panic receded. He never got the shakes when he was near her—not since that first night they made love.

Not until this mission—right after he’d gotten their first real opening to take Moreno down—and he’d faced the possibility of her leaving.

He’d told himself he wanted her to ruin him, but he hadn’t thought she really would.

He didn’t know how long he’d been up there, when he heard her climbing onto the porch railing. Team Sanchez had fixed that too, or it probably would have broken and dumped her on her ass. Which would be good, because then he wouldn’t have to face her.

Her head and shoulders popped up over the edge of the roof.

“Go away,” he snarled.

His wolf eyes could see her just fine, even in the dark. She looked hurt. He hated that she was hurting, and that he was the one that was doing it. It was like someone was slashing his chest with glass.

The only way to deal with it was to hurt her more, so she’d go away and he wouldn’t have to feel all this shit.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “Cisco’s going to be okay. They’re all going to be okay—no permanent damage.”

“Except for the dead guy.”

She flinched. “Yeah. Except for him.” She bit her lip. “Are—are you okay?”

“Are you fucking deaf?” he said. “I’m fine. Go the fuck away.” He could hear the angry growl in his chest. Way different from the one she usually heard.

Fear flickered in her eyes for a moment, but then her lips pressed together with determination. Fucking human. Why did she have to get so brave? Why couldn’t he scare her away?

She said, “You’re not fine. Your eyes are all gold and you can’t stop growling. Are you sick?”

“Shifters don’t get sick.” He raised the bottle to take a swig. His hand shook just as he got it to his mouth, and the liquid dribbled down his chest.

“Fuck!” He pitched the bottle, hearing it shatter against a tree.

“You are sick,” she said. “What do you need? Should I get Gunn? Or the healers?”

That was exactly what he didn’t need—people crowding around and cooing over how fucked-up he was. Except they wouldn’t, because he wasn’t one of them.

They were a pack. He was a lone wolf.

His wolf rose up inside him. We do not need them. We will fight our own battles. We survive.

He could feel the wolf bursting out of his face, his muzzle elongating, his mouth opening in a snarl.

Bree gasped, her eyes wide.

His voice was barely there, taken over by the wolf and his Changing body. “Look at me, little human. Soft, biteable little girl. This is who I am. This is what I am. Hunt. Kill. Devour. I need no one. Just LEAVE ME ALONE!”

And the wolf took him.

His clothes ripped off him and he stood on all fours on the roof in the moonlight, strong and brave instead of human and fucked-up.

He took one last look at the woman, hating her and wanting her at the same time. Then, in two bounds, he was off the roof and away into the woods.

Breanna slid down from the porch railing. Her knees crumpled when she hit the ground, and she landed on her butt with a jarring thump.

Thoughts and feelings churned around in her head.

It should be freaking her out that Switch had gone wolf right in front of her. Angry, out-of-control wolf, like Mikey had warned her about.