Page 7 of Forbidden

What the fuck?

Shaking himself, Wolf stalked forward, and the human backed away, right into the warehouse wall. Wolf pinned him there. Up close, he smelled like lavender and tea leaves, calming and sweet. It took real effort to focus on intimidating questions out of him and not leaning in to drag that scent into his lungs.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, pressing the human’s upper arms to the wall. He wasn’t short, but Wolf was exceptionally tall, and the top of his head was level with Wolf’s mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut rather than raise his gaze.

“I’m—I’m—uh…”

Wolf shook him. “Answer me!”

“Ira, my name is Ira! I’m… a prophet of the… y’know.” He pointed up at the starlit sky. Wolf’s eyes lingered on the silver ring on his left ring finger. A guild ring.

“You’re a paladin.”

“No! Well, not technically. Paladins are the field agents. I’m just a prophet.”

Justa prophet?Justsomeone who received visions fromGodand, what? Chose to come to Wolf’s rescue? If this guy wasn’t a field agent, why would he be out here?

His confusion must’ve been evident, because Ira said, “Look, I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, okay? I think I just helped you kill two people and I feel really bad about itbut they were going to killyouand I’ve been seeing you for months and I couldn’t just let you die so I came here and did a stupid thing and now they’re probably going to kill me for?—”

Wolf covered the human’s mouth with a hand. If he didn’t, he thought the prophet might talk until he ran out of air. Ira sighed through his nose, the air gusting over Wolf’s knuckles. His skin was warm, his facial hair like sandpaper on Wolf’s palm. It was a nicer sensation than it probably should be, given the bodies still bleeding right behind him.

A prophet of the Lord had been seeing visions of him and came to save him. He didn’t know what to do with that information, but something warm bloomed within him at the thought. Someone thought he was worth saving.

“I’m going to call somebody to deal with this.” He gestured to the bodies over his shoulder. “And then you and I are going to talk. Nod if you understand.”

Ira tried to tug his hand away from his mouth, but Wolf refused to budge. He shook his head, and Ira sighed again, then nodded.

Wolf took his phone out of his pocket without removing the hand covering Ira’s mouth, fighting back a smile when Ira huffed in annoyance. He dialed Storm’s number.

“Hey, everything okay?” Storm asked.

“Not so much. Got attacked by some paladins. Need a clean-up.”

“Ugh, do it yourself.”

“Can’t. Got something else to take care of. Just stow the weapons in the club and get rid of the bodies. I’ll buy your drinks tomorrow night.”

“Fine.”

Wolf hung up and moved his hand from Ira’s mouth to his wrist, latching on and dragging him away.

“Whoa, wait! Where are you taking me?”

“Away.” He didn’t know where. Somewhere they could talk privately. Somewhere Wolf could make sense of why a prophet was having visions of him.

“I really think you should just let me leave.”

“Why? Did your visions tell you that?”

“No.” It sounded pouty, and Wolf wanted to knowwhy. Wanted to push until Ira spilled everything to him.

They stopped beside his car, a sleek black Charger. He keyed open the passenger seat and pushed Ira inside.

When he swooped down into the driver’s seat, Ira said, “Seriously, you could just drop me off at my car over there.” He pointed at a nondescript gray sedan across the parking lot.

A growl answered before Wolf could, and it took him a moment to realize it came from Ira’s stomach.

He arched a brow. “Hungry?”

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