Free Taming the Heart (Creatures of the Night Book 2) by Tisha Wilson Page A

vision of her writhing naked body came to mind. He recalled how small she had been as he touched her with his manhood. It had nearly undone him. He had to clench his teeth even now at the thought. Why, he couldn’t tell. There were no two people worse suited for each other than the two of them.
    She was an ex-cheerleader that wore t-shirts that said things like ‘I love kittens.’ Who wore shirts like that outside of preschoolers? He himself was a warrior, cut from steal. He had been involved in every major battle in the last thousand years save this last one. He found that he had stopped caring about what people were fighting over any more, especially when it came to religion. Plus, as people stopped believing in werewolves, their numbers had grown.
    People of old took certain precautions against the wolves. Precautions that were now considered superstition. The gypsies especially knew the dangers as they were a traveling people. Silver littered their clothes and homes, adorning their necks and ears. The American Indians also knew these secrets and incorporated silver into their jewelry, weaponry, and head dresses as well.
    He and the other hunters were suddenly very outnumbered and he relished that thought. He saw himself on a great battlefield surrounded by the evil and mowing his way through them with his sword. The thought alone made his fingers tingle in anticipation. It was his one true purpose in this world and he would fight into eternity, until he finally met a worthy opponent.
    His thoughts turned back to the troubled woman in his bedroom. She was right about one thing. She was not ready to take on that type of a challenge. He nearly laughed to picture her standing in the middle of a field with a giant silver sword she could hardly lift and an ‘I love kittens’ t-shirt on. It was laughable.
    He had seen her sister when she had emerged from the overturned minivan. She had clutched a vicious looking knife in one and she had worn an officer’s uniform. She appeared strong and lithe. She had even buried the knife to the hilt in the creature’s neck before it bit down on her. It should have been her and not this pink lace wearing woman that was in a wheel chair. Fate was fickle. Chances were the sister wouldn’t have even been a hunter. She probably was a wolf running through the woods at this very moment and he hoped that he was the one to face her, and not the sister in his bedroom.
    Wolves retained some of their human features for the first few months and if a person were looking for it, they might see their lost loved one and believe, falsely, that they could be saved. She struck him as the type that would always hope that her sister would become human again. How terrible would it be for her to have to kill her own sister?
    She cried out again and he rose from the couch. He went to the bedroom and threw open the door. The top half of the bed was a mess where she had thrashed about, but not the bottom. The blankets were oddly undisturbed where her legs lay perfectly still. Why? Why had she been able to use them for those few hours but not now? A thought came to him. What if…
    *
    Miranda came awake suddenly as she was drug from the bed. “What…” she managed before they made their way out of the front door. He was half dragging, half carrying her. She held on to his strong arm with all her might. He finally tossed her out into the yard and she landed with an oomph. She turned over and looked up at him stunned for a moment. Had he snapped? Was he finally going to attack her, finish the job?
    He stalked back and forth as he looked down at her. She shivered at the deadly look in his eyes. “Fight,” he growled.
    She blinked a few times. “I don’t…”
    “I said fight me,” he yelled as he turned on her. He suddenly had claws and fangs again.
    “I don’t want to fight you,” she cried as she began to push away from him.
    “Because you are a weakling. You are nothing. You used to be something,”