Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            He found himself aroused by her tone, imagined her commanding him, Harder, wolf. Faster. Now! He said, “Does no’ bear discussing.”

            “Bear this.” She flashed him a hand gesture that had stood the test of time.

            “You’ll get your knife back, carnie, once you learn the difference between a good immortal and a bad one. Also, you should know I’m no’ one to make empty threats. You’ll warm yourself—or I’ll do the job for you.”

            After a long hesitation, she marched to the log. As she sat, her sheared dress fluttered to reveal more of her thighs. Want between them!

            She raised her hands to the fire, light dancing over those scars on the pads of her dainty fingers. Her wedding ring sparkled.

            The groom’s marking. Munro’s fangs ached anew to take her neck, to claim her as his woman forever.

            “Why are you baring your teeth at me?” she asked. “I can’t keep up with your ever-varying moods.”

            “You think me moody? My brother would get a laugh out of that.” Munro had a reputation in his clan for his even temper. Instead of brawling, he settled disputes. Rather than depending on his beast’s frenzied strength, he strategized. He’d founded settlements and worked to keep his brother in line. “I’m known far and wide to be steady as a rock.”

            “And just as clever as one?” she asked with cutting disdain.

            So why was he getting harder for her? What about her didn’t do it for him?

            He knew one thing that would put a dent in his need. He twisted around to assess his bullet wounds. His body might push out the slugs or the skin might heal over, so he took matters into his own hands and dug his claws into one hole. Ignoring the pain, he snared the bullet, then cast it through the curtain of water. On to the next one . . .

            Gaze watchful, she asked, “How long will it take you to heal from those?”

            He finished up and rinsed his hands, telling her, “Depends on how much rest and food I’ve had. Right now, my regeneration is sluggish.” He would pretend she was curious about her new mate—instead of sussing out weaknesses. He hankered for answers about her. “I saw your wagon at the fairgrounds: The Great Kereny, Transylvanian Blade Huntress. Do you have a knife-throwing act?”

            “Yes. For a few years.”

            “Your fingers are scarred. You must have practiced like your life depended on it.”

            “The villagers say I sold my soul to a demon for my talent. Of course, most of them refuse to believe demons exist.”

            “To master an aim like yours, I bet you worked yourself to the literal bone.”

            For the first time since he’d taken her, Kereny seemed to see him. Shoulders back, she said, “I am not as strong or fast as an immortal. But my power is determination. If I work hard enough, then what I envision becomes reality. I wanted to be excellent, so I became excellent.”

            Fuck. I’m a goner. He reacted viscerally to her steely gaze and iron will. She might as well have clutched him by the ballocks and informed him, Mine.

            Voice roughened, he asked, “What did you do before your knife throwing?”

            “I ran a shell game or read a crystal ball. Anything to help the cause.”

            “So you’re a con artist as well.”

            “Do you mean a confidence artist? You don’t believe I can see the future?” She swept the length of her drying hair over one shoulder, sending him awash in her exquisite scent. . . .

            Hadn’t she asked him something? Ah! “If you could see the future, you would no’ square off against those newlings. I once saw a pair of them pulverize a stronghold to catch a cat.”

            “They’re inherently vicious?”

            He scratched his head. “I believe they’re more like uncontrollable toddlers who have the heightened senses to detect aggression and the strength to do horrible things when defending themselves.”

            “The newlings wouldn’t attack us if they sensed no aggression?”