"Why did you agree to talk to them?" she said.

"Don't you think it would have looked a little suspicious if I'd told them to fuck off?"

"What could they have done about it if you had?"

"I couldn't do that. I've got a reputation—"

" That's your problem."

I ran a hand over my hair, which was coming out of its braid and needed washing. This wasn't getting anywhere. How did I word this without seeming like I was questioning them, or ordering them around? "The pack should take care of this, shouldn't it?"

Carl glared. "If there was a rogue in town, don't you think I'd know about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's got a good hiding place. I mean, if you knew about him, he wouldn't be a rogue."

Meg blocked my exit around that end of the sofa. "You told them it was a werewolf that did this? You told them that was what you smelled?"

"Yeah."

Her shoulders were bunched, like hackles rising. She wasn't being the good cop anymore. "You should have lied. You should have told them you didn't know what it was."

Easy for her to say. I didn't lie well. Especially to cops. "They have tests for that kind of thing now. They would have found out eventually. I'm lucky they're not assuming that I did it."

"You're an easy target," Carl said, turning on me. "How many times do I have to tell you to quit the show?"

"Two hundred markets," I countered, raising an eye-brow. I could almost see him working out the math of how much money that was.

T.J. said to Carl, "If there's a rogue in town killing people, the cops can't handle it. We have to. If we don't want them paying more attention to us, we have to make the problem go away."

That was exactly what I'd been trying to say. I owed him a steak dinner.

I said, "This detective knows just enough to identify the problem, but not enough to do anything about it. T.J.'s right."

Carl paced, back and forth, back and forth, like he was caged. His jaw was tight. "Do you know anything else about this rogue besides how he smells?"

"No," I said.

T.J. said, "We could go looking. Find out where these deaths have happened. If he's marking a territory, we'll find him. I could do it on my own if you want—"

Meg said, "You're wrong. There's no rogue."

Of course she'd side with Carl. She kept glaring at me, and I didn't like the look in her eyes: cold, predatory.

"We have to do something ," I said, ignoring Meg at my peril.

"Nobody's going to do anything until I say so," Carl said.

"When is that going to be?" T.J. crouched like he was getting ready to pounce.

Carl glared. "When I say so."

"And in the meantime he kills again."

Glaring down at him, Carl stepped close to T.J. His fists tightened. "Are you challenging me?"

For a minute I thought it was going to happen, right then and there. It wouldn't take much for an argument between an alpha male and his second to degenerate into an all-out fight. That was part of why T.J. sided with Carl most of the time. The least little dissension could be misinterpreted.

When T.J. didn't back down, but met Carl's gaze without flinching, I thought they would fight. Then T.J. slumped, his back bowing and his head drooping.

"No," he said.

Carl tipped his chin up with the victory. "Then it's settled. We wait. This is my pack, my territory. I'll take care of it." He grabbed my shirt and hauled me to my feet. "And you will not talk to the police again."

"Yeah, just wait until they come knocking on your door." I bit my lip. That came out more sarcastic than I'd intended.

Carl pursed his lips. "I think we need to have a little talk."

Oh, great. This was when he would put me in my place. His hand shifted to grip the back of my neck and he pushed me ahead of him, toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Meg stepped in front of him, stopping him. "Let me talk to her."

Carl stared at her like she'd turned green. Meg had never had one of these "little talks" with me. She'd always left it to Carl. Even knowing that our "talks" often ended up with him screwing me, she left him to it. It was part of being with the pack, of being wolf. Maybe she'd finally had enough.

She glared at me like she wanted to bite a piece out of me. I concentrated on cowering. I didn't want to be an alpha; I didn't want to challenge anybody. I could feel the Wolf shrinking inside me, ready to whine. I never thought I'd prefer getting dressed down by Carl. I leaned back so I was touching his body, sheltered by him.

Then Carl and Meg were the ones trading glares. A good old-fashioned staring contest. What would happen if they got into a knock-down, drag-out fight? That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Not today," Carl said and marched past her, pulling me along with him. I scrambled to keep up, dizzy with fear and the irony that at the moment I actually felt safer with him.

When we got to the bedroom at the end of the hall, he pulled me inside and closed the door. He trapped me, hands spread on the wall on either side of my head, his usual stance. He glared at me for what seemed like a long time. My heart raced; I kept my gaze lowered, waiting.

Then he went for my neck.

I might have thought he'd turned vampire, if I didn't know better. He nuzzled my hairline, and his mouth opened over my skin, kissing me. I tipped my head back, giving him access. His tongue licked, he caught my ear-lobe in his teeth, released a hot breath against my cheek. He used the full length of his body to press me to the wall. I could feel him, aroused like he'd been let out of a monastery and into cheerleading practice.

Despite my confusion, I melted in his arms. I clung to him, not wanting to lose contact with a single inch of him. There was more than one way to win submission from an underling.

"You're not angry?" I murmured.

"I'm reminding you of your place."

Carl's toy. I'd almost forgotten. I moaned a little, both turned on and frustrated that he was completely avoiding the issue.

His hands kneaded my back, working through my shirt, then slipping under my shirt and digging into bare skin. I arched my back, leaning into him.

"I can't go back to what I was." I gripped his hair in my fists, holding his head to me while he traced my throat with his tongue.