Page 46 of Marked By Moonlight

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

Claire stepped into the kitchen and let the door slam behind her. “You make it sound like I’m in heat,” she accused.

Propping her hands on her hips, she waited for him to assure her otherwise, waited for him to say she wasn’t actually a dog, that she couldn’t be ruled by base, primitive urges.

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he shrugged out of his jacket and removed his holster. She translated his look to mean,if the shoe fits.

All the ways in which she had recently changed flashed across her mind: heightened senses, quick temper, wardrobe, hair, makeup, revitalized interest in men.

“Oh, my God.” She sank into a chair, propping her elbows on the kitchen table and burying her face in her hands. “Iamin heat.”

“You’re not in heat,” he said as he opened the refrigerator to peer inside.

She looked through her fingers, staring at him hopefully.

“Well,” he amended, “not exactly.”

She dropped her face back into her hands with a moan. Not only was she a werewolf, but a werewolf whose biological clock tolled for a litter of her own. “I’m not stepping outside this house ever again.”

“Yes. You will,” he countered with annoying certainty, head still inside the fridge, rear end displayed to full advantage in his well-worn denim.

Jamming her eyes shut against the sight, she fought back a wave of lust. Oh God. Didhedrive her wild with need? Or was it simply an instinctive need to fornicate? She snuck another glimpse at his ass, refusing to believe that she had lost all dignity, all self-control—that sex, regardless of the partner, would suffice.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to flaunt myself all over town.”

“We’re not any closer to finding the alpha of your pack. You’re going out again. You have to.”

“My pack,” she snorted in contempt. “I don’t have a pack, remember? That’s why everything on four legs wants a piece of me.”

Gideon’s lips twitched.

She glared at him and uncrossed her arms to wag a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“Believe me, I find no humor in the situation.” His mouth fell into an uncompromising line. His eyes dropped and he cleared his throat. “You can change clothes. Unless you enjoy exposing yourself to me.” His voice sounded tight and strangled.

She followed his gaze. Her top gaped open, revealing her black push-up bra. She felt her nipples tighten beneath the black silk and grabbed at the tattered fabric.

“Maybe I’m trying to seduce you,” she flung out with far more bravado than she felt. Face flaming, she scooted back in her chair and added, “I am in heat, after all.”

Deciding it best to flee—before she made a fool of herself and succumbed to the base impulses tormenting her—she stormed out of the kitchen.

She was not an animal.Not a dog in heat.She alone controlled her body. Even if she did want to pick up where they left off at the lake house. Gideon was the only one to affect her that way. Only he made her forget that the two of them were a very bad idea.

Thankfully he had control enough for both of them.

Claire stared at the shadows flickering across the ceiling, thoughts of tonight and Gideon keeping her awake. The purr of a diesel engine growled in the night. Kicking back the covers, she hopped off the uncomfortable pullout and moved to the window.

Parting the curtains, she watched a man climb out of his truck and stride up the front walkway. Something about the purposeful way he carried himself, the quick way he canvassed the area, reminded her of Gideon.

Footsteps pounded down the hall—the smack of Gideon’s bare feet on the house’s old wood floors. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one awake and aware of their late-night visitor.

The door to her room flung open. Gideon stood there bare-chested. She devoured the sight of him, the stranger outside forgotten. His eyes settled on her with an intensity that sent heat rushing to her face. His jeans hung loose and unbuttoned on his waist. The enticing line of hair disappearing below his navel made her throat constrict. Tousled hair, dark in the room’s shadows, brushed his naked shoulders. She felt herself take a step forward, fingers twitching at her side, itching to touch that hair, recalling its softness in her hands.

She froze, rooting her feet to the floor, telling herself to get a grip.

He pointed an imperious finger at her. “Stay here.”

The back door opened and slammed shut below.

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