“You know what,sweet cheeks? I don’t need your help.” He leaned into her space, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver up her spine.
But it was not a shiver of fear. Cate pushed the thoughts threatening to permeate her otherwise confident stance away. Despite the irritable tone in his voice, his close proximity, something stirred beneath her skin, beneath her blood as Gunner looked in her eyes. Something both dangerous and inviting, something that caused Cate to shift her weight and push back.
“Fine by me,” she bit back as she slid underneath his arms and walked with haste toward the door, trying to escape the sudden onslaught of emotion she was not expecting.
It’s better this way, you know that.
You don’t need an unappreciative, stupid—
“Where the hell is my shirt?” Gunner’s voice elevated, the frustration in his tone evident.
“If you insist that you don’t need my help setting your caged spirit free, you certainly don’t need my help in locating your clothing,” Cate said haughtily as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. Spike perked his head up in interest, looking from Cate to Gunner expectantly.
“Just answer the damn question,” he grumbled.
“If you made the effort to actually look—” She pointed to the kitchen chair behind him, and Gunner scowled as he grabbed his shirt. Cate held the door open. The moonlight hit her skin, and she felt the sparks flare into full blown energy around her arms, blue light crackling like lightning, surrounding her pale arms all the way up to her shoulder.
Cate watched as Gunner threw his shirt on, hurriedly setting to fasten the buttons on his collar, and then he stopped. As if stasis had returned, freezing him in time. His buttons left untouched, the expanse of his chest visible still. His eyes widened at the sight before him, ather,and suddenly he lurched forward. Visible tendrils of yellow and green danced just above his skin, and the wolf inside him rattled against its cage once more.