Page 36 of The Tracker's Secret
Really? We’d just gone over this.
He was such a thick-headed, possessive, over-protective, irresistible jerk!
The sad part was that if he hadn’t said anything, I might’ve thought twice about getting involved with Eric Lone, but since Jake didn’t want me to do it, then by God, I was going to jump right in. And while I was at it, I would learn everything Eric could teach me, even how to exterminate entire packs.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke in a cool tone. “We just finished establishing that my business is not your business, so please, butt out.”
“Cross is dangerous,” he said. “Are you bent on getting yourself killed? What is this all about?”
“It’s nothing that concerns you, and I swear if you don’t stay out of my business, I’ll file a complaint against you. Tom can help me make sure it sticks.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“If it’ll take a restraining order to keep you away, I swear I’ll get one.” Gritting my teeth, I turned and walked away, determined to move on once and for all.
I wasn’t going to let Jake or anyone else interfere with what I needed to accomplish. I would tame my wolf.
Chapter 13
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STOMPING ANGRILY, Iweaved through the partygoers, following Damien around the bar toward a door on the opposite end. I resisted the urge to glance back at Jake and squeezed Rosalina’s hand hard when she reached for mine. As always, she knew I needed her support, and I was glad she’d come because I could borrow a little strength from her. Besides, she helped me keep my eyes on the goal and away from what should have remained in my past.
Another man dressed all in black waited by the door. He opened it for us as he noticed Damien and let us through, then immediately closed it behind us.
Damien led the way down a wide hall decorated sparsely with the same abstract paintings as in the front. After a couple of turns that led us deep into the house and away from the thumping music, we reached a mahogany door that seemed at odds with the rest of the décor.
The mage knocked, and without waiting for a response, walked in. I squeezed Rosalina’s hand harder while I bit the inside of my cheek, drawing blood. The heavy door eased closed behind us, completely shutting away all the sounds from the party.
Rosalina and I peered around the room, then exchanged a perplexed glance. If the wooden door had seemed out of place, this room seemed like it belonged in an entirely different house, one built in a different time and place.
We were in a study or library, flanked on every side by floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of books. Worn Persian rugs rested on top of each other barely giving us a peek of the hardwood floors underneath. A sitting section with leather loveseats and sofas formed a square around a round coffee table laden with open tomes.
A fireplace sat in the center of the left wall and made me think of winter nights reading by a warm fire. A beautiful oil portrait of a statuesque woman and a little girl sitting on her lap hung above the mantle. I held my breath as I realized who they must be, and I would have gone on staring if Damien hadn’t urged me to walk further into the room.
Letting go of Rosalina’s hand, I padded silently over the rugs and faced a massive, carved desk like a naughty little girl waiting to be chastised. The high back chair on the other side of the desk was turned around, completely hiding its occupant.
