Page 44 of A Velvet Kiss After Dark

She was going to sue that vagabond who robbed her, and he'd rue the day he met Tabitha Burke. She'd make damn sure about that.

"Alpha Zeke knows I can get any job done, no matter how lucrative. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" Kane ventured to say.

"Because he knows you'll kill for dough?"

"No," Kane disagreed. "Because he knows I'm good at my job."

"And which job is that, Mr. Werewolf?" She slobbered some and wiped it on the cleanest part of her shirt she could find. She definitely wasn't going to win a beauty contest tonight.

"Being an impeccable flirt, naturally," he said.

"Ha. If you call constantly putting me in harm's way 'flirting', then I suppose that's true."

"You put yourself in as much danger as I ever have, and anything that ever occurred to you because of your knowledge of me is inasmuch as your own fault as it is mine."

"Put me down." When he didn't comply quickly enough for her, she smashed her fist into his shoulder. "I said put me down!"

He complied and glared down at her in the dark with menace, his jutting slide to side in anger. "What now, Tabitha? We're losing time."

"I'm pretty sure you can spare a few seconds, and I'm suddenly feeling chipper enough to walk on my own two feet, thank you very much! You know, you're a real villain, Kánnérd Gunner. Who are you? And, what kind of a name is Kánnérd anyway?"

Honestly, she was more perturbed that in all of her uncovered gossip on the werewolf merc, she'd never once heard his full name, an impossibility in her mind. And, that meant he was even more secretive than she'd ever known. That, she really detested! She'd been in his underground, hi-tech house before, and rifled through his wallet a time or two, and still she'd never once heard the name "Kánnérd."

But, she seriously resented the fact that he would not take responsibility that from the moment he entered her life, she'd been bullied, attacked at her own home, forced to pack and move because of it, and she'd suffered PTSD, though gun training had seriously helped her to restore her inner gumption.

"Just keep walking and I'll answer your questions, how about that?" he offered.

Graham panted behind them, doubled over with his hands pressed to his knees. A moment later he shapeshifted into his werewolf form and seemed all the better for it.

Tabitha watched them both carefully. "What's with him?"

"He took a bad ax to the abdomen, he'll heal, if he's lucky, but it was a vicious wound. He needs sleep in his werewolf form to recover more fully, but even we are not insusceptible to death, Tabitha. Even I can die, and even Graham can die."

She swallowed hard around the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. Oh, she hadn't known that. "I'm sorry, Graham."

He let loose a soft howl in acknowledgment and as he walked she saw him limping.

"How long will it take him to heal?" she asked.

"At this juncture, I can’t say. Days. Longer, if he can't sleep it off or get any medicine," Kane said. "I suggest we walk."

"And you'll answer my questions?" she said, her chin jutting high. She suddenly felt as though she could sprint, her anger at him doing much to energize her.

"Sure, sweetheart, but move we must. It's not safe anywhere here." Kane took the lead and she kept up with him, although she was fairly certain he wasn't moving as quickly as he could for her own sake.

Ready to prove her might, Tabitha pushed away all thoughts of sleep deprivation, fear, and anxiety. She pictured herself as Wonder-woman instead and pushed away all that had been troubling her. She was a conqueror, she was a fighter, she was…Tabitha Burke, AKA, Alaina Morrison, the hottest gossip columnist in the whole world!

"Tell me your real name," she asked as they picked up the pace again. It was difficult tread. The sand ate at her feet, making each step harder than the last. She feared she'd lose her strength quickly and that once again she'd perched like a dove on top of his shoulder, but she let the anger churning inside her force her to move, to be faster and better, and to keep up.

"Kánnérd Gunner," he said in his deep voice.

"And where are you from?" Again, she yearned for a pad of paper and a pen.

"Old Slovat," he replied. From the tone of his voice, she knew he despised talking about his past, but why? The curious cat inside her wished to prove further, and so she did.

"Where is that at?"

He shrugged and checked his military-style watch which lit up with a green LED screen at a touch. "Somewhere near present-day Slovakia."

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