Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            “This merely-a-mortal has zero sense of one.” Her irritation was palpable, prickling his skin. “You’re suffering from a delusion. The warlocks’ torture you mentioned must have twisted your mind.”

            “Nothing could affect my Instinct. As I told you, it rings true that you’re my mate.”

            “Even if I had any inclination to be with a monster—which I do not—the fact remains that we’re at war. You’re my enemy.”

            “The Lykae clan does no’ war with humans. It’d be like a lion warring with an ant.”

            She raised her chin, her eyes flashing with courage. “We puny ants can be dangerous if united. As we will be against those newlings—your species.”

            That glint in her eyes made his gut tighten with want and his beast prowl for release. Her bravery was an aphrodisiac—not a good thing since she had so much of it, and he already struggled to control himself around her. “Newlings are no’ representative of the Lykae, any more than a rabid animal is representative of its kind,” he said, even as his beast was baying to rise. He inhaled for calm and asked, “Would you have swung on any immortal you captured? Do you hate us all?”

            “We focus on the monsters who prey on humans.”

            “As do I. I’ve been a warrior all my life. I’ve fought against vampires, warlocks, and evil demonarchies.” He’d first earned his stripes as a Sentinel, protecting the Woods of Murk. Before those bloody clashes, he and Will had been formidable soldiers. After them, the twins had been unstoppable. At least in battle. “Now I war against the Pravus alliance—Loreans who hurt mortals. You and I are on the same side.”

            “Evil demonarchies?” She rolled her eyes. “As if there are good ones!”

            His frustration continued to mount, his beast rising alongside it. Though Munro had kept absolute control of his primal half since he’d been a young lad, now he could barely muzzle it. Saliva dripped from his lengthening fangs.

            Was this how Will had felt for centuries?

            For the first time in his life, Munro had reason to be more concerned about his own fate than his twin’s. Kereny was skilled and clever, and if she used her wits against him, she could make trouble in the journey from here to his home. He needed their interests aligned.

            Should he tell her all and try to convince her to accompany him? Nay. If he revealed that he’d traveled from the future, she would doubt his tale, becoming even more suspicious of him.

            Mayhap he should seduce her, making her question her feelings for the groom. Munro gazed down at his gaunt, half-dressed body. He’d lost a stone of muscle during his imprisonment.

            Had he relied on his looks with the fairer sex over his long life? Aye, it’d been easy to do so. For centuries, he’d had a line that had rarely failed, one that consisted of a lift of his brows and three words: Care to fuck?

            Seduction was a different game when it proved challenging. And when it actually counts.

            But once he had Kereny back in New Orleans, he would get his head together. A mate acted as a balm for a Lykae’s woes, and already he was doing better just being near her. After he’d healed, he would use all his considerable charm, and then how could she resist him?

            He simply needed his freedom and time. Yet both were limited. He was trapped in the past with a countdown on his life.

            The fire crackled, reclaiming his attention. He glanced over at Kereny.

            Though she eyed the flames with longing, she hadn’t moved closer. He sourced a larger log for her to sit on. “Come and get warm.” Then he backed away to lean against the cave wall.

            “I’ll stand.”

            Stubborn chit. When she shivered, alarm seized him. Maybe she’d been right to worry about the cold water; mortals could die of ague. “Sit by the fire, or I’ll chafe your skin to warm you. You’ll no’ catch your death on my watch.”

            She glanced at the falls as if she considered making a run for it. He half hoped she would. Lykae loved the chase.

            Instead, she squared her shoulders and told him, “Return my knife, wolf. Now.” She sounded like a general used to having her orders obeyed.