He slammed the brakes so hard I got whiplash. If I hadn’t had my seat belt on, I’d have gone through the windshield. I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t realized we’d arrived.

“Mortal over here!” I said irritably, rubbing my neck. “You might try remembering tha—ack, what the—Barrons!” I was yanked out of the car by my arm so hard, it nearly popped out of socket.

I hadn’t even seen him get out and come around to my side. Then I was over the curb, up on the sidewalk, and flattened against the brick wall of a building.

He leaned into me, trapping my legs with his, completing the cage with his arms.

I braced my palms against his chest to hold him at bay. His rib cage rose and fell beneath my hands, pumping like bellows. He was rock hard against my thigh, much bigger than I’d ever felt him. Too big. I heard the sound of ripping fabric.

I looked up at his face and did a double take. His skin was the color of mahogany, darkening by the second. He was taller than he should be, and sparks of crimson glittered in his eyes. When he snarled, I caught the flash of long black fangs in the moonlight.

He was changing. His hair was getting longer, thicker, matting around his face. He dropped his head close and sharp fangs grazed my ear.

“Never. Use sex. As a weapon. Against me. Again.” The words were guttural, misshapen by teeth too large for a human mouth, but I understood them perfectly.

I shrugged.

“Don’t give me a fucking shrug!” he snarled. His cheek was against mine and I could feel the planes of it sharpening, broadening. Again, I heard cloth ripping.

“I was angry.” I’d had every right to be.

“So am I. You don’t see me playing head games.”

“You manipulate me all the time.”

“Am I ruthless? Yes. Do I keep my own counsel? Sure. Do I push you sometimes to get you to say something you want to say anyway? Certainly. But I never mind-fuck you.”

“Look, Barrons, what do you want from me? It was …” I searched for the right word and didn’t like what I found. “Immature. Okay? But you aren’t blameless. You were talking about killing me.”

The rattlesnake moved in his throat.

“You owe me an apology, too,” I snapped.

“For what?” Something grazed my ear, tore the tender skin, and I felt a warm rush of blood, then his tongue touched my skin.

“For not telling me you couldn’t die. Do you have any idea what watching you die did to me?”

“Ah. Let’s see. Yes. Made you fuck Darroc within hours.”

“Jealous, Barrons? Sounds like it.” There was no way I was explaining myself. He hadn’t given me any explanations. Because he hadn’t, I’d assumed all kinds of things and very nearly made a grand ass ofmyself in front of him last night.

Air hissed between his fangs as he shoved away from the wall. I hadn’t realized how cold the night was until the heat of his body was gone. He stood in the middle of the street with his back to me, hands fisted at his sides, long talons sliding through monstrous fingers, shuddering, snarling.

I leaned against the wall, watching him. He was fighting for control over which form was going to achieve dominance and, although I was pissed off at both of them at the moment, I preferred the man. The beast was more … emotional, if that word could be applied to Barrons in any form. It made me feel confused, conflicted. I would never get the image of stabbing it out of my head.

When I’d been provoking him, it hadn’t occurred to me that this might be the outcome. Barrons was always so controlled, disciplined. I’d thought his transformation into the beast had been a conscious one. That, like everything else in his world, it happened if he willed it to, or it didn’t happen at all.

I remembered the first time I’d ever heard the strange rattle in his chest, the night he and I had gone after the Book with the three stones and failed. He’d carried me back to the bookstore and I’d wakened on the sofa to find him staring at the fire. I remembered thinking that Barrons’ skin might be a slipcover for a chair I never wanted to see. I’d been right. Beneath his human form was an utterly inhuman one. But why? How? What was he?

Not once had he lost control like this around me. Was his ability to contain his animal nature getting weaker?

Or was I more deeply rooted beneath that changeable skin?

I smiled, but it held no mirth. I liked that thought. I wasn’t sure who that made more screwed up: him or me.

I stayed against the wall, and he stayed in the street with his back to me, for a good three or four minutes.

Slowly, with what looked like a great deal of pain, he changed back, shuddering, snarling all the while. I understood why I’d thought I killed him with my runes last night. The transformation from beast to man appeared to be intensely painful.

When he finally turned around, there was no trace of crimson in his dark gaze. No stump of horns erupting from his skull. He grimaced as he stepped up on the curb, as if his limbs hurt, teeth flashing white and even in the moonlight.

He was once again a powerfully built man of thirty or so, wearing a long coat that was ripped at the shoulders and split down the back.

“You mind-fuck me again, I’ll fuck you back. But it won’t be with my mind.”

“Don’t threaten me.” I was tempted to do it right then and there and see if he’d really follow through. I was furious at him. I wanted him. I was a mess where Barrons was concerned.

“I didn’t. I warned you.”