Beauty and the Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack) by Kristin Miller Page A

Nolan’s paintings, but now I don’t think that’s it.” She stood and moved toward the windows. He had an excellent view of the city from there. “You acted like you didn’t want to leave me at the airport, but then I can’t imagine anyone wanting to get their head bashed in by a werewolf in an underground fight club, so you really didn’t want to do either of those things. Yet here you are, two inches from dead. I’m at a loss, Jack. I knew MacGraths were crazy, but I didn’t know they were masochists.”
    “I’m not a masochist.” Well, not really. Though if he thought back over the last few years, he could probably find a handful of antics to support her idea. “I simply don’t have a choice on how I live anymore. I’m ruled by something completely different.”
    “Drugs?” She spun, planting her hands on her hips. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
    “I’m not on drugs.” Checking to make sure he had something on beneath the sheets, Jack set his feet on the floor and stood. He tightened the drawstring of his black pajama pants and steadied himself on the bedpost. Branson must’ve changed him, thank goodness. His muscles were sore from the fight, but he had energy in him. A blessing in disguise. “I’m on adrenaline.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    He teetered between the urge to tell her everything—the whole, tragic truth—and the fear that she’d run. If she did take off, he’d be dead before summer, he was sure of it.
    But if there was a chance that she might complete the Luminary bond with him, and save him…
    He had to try.
    Stretching and flexing to assess the damage, he strode closer. Isabelle’s gaze homed in on his bare chest, his abs, and then his lips. Her eyes went wide, as if she thought he was coming in close to kiss her. Oh, but didn’t he wish.
    “I’m 320 years old, and have yet to find my mate.” His voice turned darker, graver than he’d meant. “Two decades ago, my health took a turn for the worse. I wasn’t expected to survive the year. A wolf pack medicine man told me the tale of unmated wolves living off of adrenaline rushes. He said the surge of the chemical in my bloodstream would elongate my life, though he couldn’t say for sure how long.”
    Squinting, Isabelle rubbed her temples. “So you’re…”
    “Dying, Isabelle.”
    She stood still as stone. “Oh,” she said.
    As if she understood. But she couldn’t possibly.
    “At first, it only took something startling to get the blood pumping through my veins. But now, I’m getting used to the adrenaline. The thrills are wearing off. It’s taking extreme measures to keep my body functioning day to day.”
    “So the helicopter—”
    “The fights—”
    “The whole drive like a bat out of hell being just what you needed—”
    “All that is a normal part of my life. I have to find new things like that every day. The only thing that can save me for good is finding and bonding with my fated mate…you.”
    Mouth gaping, her gaze shifted around the room as if she were searching for something that made sense. But there were no answers in the woodwork. He’d looked a thousand times over.
    “I’m so sorry, Jack,” she said, her voice solemn. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. How much longer do you think you have?”
    He swallowed down the spoiled truth. “There’s no way to tell. Sometimes I feel myself slipping, but I’ve already lived twenty years past my expiration, so who knows? Could be another month, another year, or seven hundred. It all depends…”
    “Whoa, whoa, rewind.” She put her hands up in the space between them. “And you think I’m your Luminary? The one who’s going to extend your life? I told you before, you’re wrong. You should stop wasting your precious time with me and use it to find your real Luminary.”
    “No time with you is wasted.”
    “Would you stop that?” She pushed him away, though she lacked the force and the conviction in her touch. “You’re a