The Strip by Heather Killough-Walden, Gildart Jackson Page B

Cole needed to take that fight out beyond the eyes and ears of other humans, anyway.
    A second and a half later, Cole calmly stepped out of the room and drew the long-sleeve of his white thermal shirt across his face. It came away covered in blood, though there appeared to be nothing wrong with his nose or mouth.
    His eyes had gone from all black to a piercing jade once more, and a cruel smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
    “She clocked you?” Caige asked.
    “More or less,” Cole answered, casually. “If we didn’t heal the way we do, I would be a tad rearranged, at the moment.”
    Caige’s brow shot up. “So, I was right.”
    Cole cocked his head to one side. He was listening, but his attention drifted toward the front door and the woman who had just gone running through it.
    “She’s not like a human Dormant,” Caige went on. “She should have gone straight into submission. But, instead, she head-butted you.” Lucas couldn’t help his own smile, which broadened when Cole shot him a scathing look.
    Malcolm took a deep breath and again gazed toward the parlor’s exit. If Phelan’s wolves had still been on The Strip and if Cole’s own men hadn’t out-numbered them, Charlie would be fair game to them right now. However, Gabriel’s men were gone and Cole’s wolves were fanned out across the city. Malcolm’s smile returned.
    He knew he was a bastard. There was something a little too dark and maybe a little too twisted inside of him. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, or even how. Maybe it was the curse. Maybe it was that he’d been in three wars, all of them bloody.
    Maybe it was just him. Perhaps he was just broken.
    But whatever the reason, Cole had to admit that he enjoyed slowly and methodically breaking someone down. He’d punished countless serial killers in this manner, bringing them to their knees before he had dealt them their final blow. Much to his shame, he’d systematically tortured Lily St. Claire in much the same way. He had shown little to no respect for her needs or desires. The truth was, he simply hadn’t cared.
    He’d never outright hurt her, but he’d wanted what he had wanted and he knew how to play the game to get it.
    It was the chase he loved. The pursuit. He was a wolf in its truest, predatory form and whatever form the chase took, it brought him immense pleasure. This situation with Charlie had the makings of perfection. He’d been able to sense her building arousal; hell it had been impossible not to. He knew she was as affected by the marking as he had been. The fact that she had chosen to run from him allowed him the time and the distance that he needed to hunt her down the right way. No matter how strong or stubborn she was, in the end, she would submit to him. This way, it was a lot more fun.
    “Deal with these people and close the shop down,” he instructed calmly, his gaze skirting to the windows and the hustle and bustle of the Las Vegas night beyond. “Then head back to the Bellagio.”
    Lucas nodded once to show that he understood and then he left to tend to his customers.
    Cole pulled his cell phone from his front pocket and flicked it open. He pressed a few buttons and waited as Jake picked up.
    “She’s out like a light,” Jake told him, without pretense. Cole knew he was speaking of Charlie’s friend, Mary Jane. He’d succeeded in putting her under with his kiss. Most likely, she was crashed out on Jake’s bed, never having made it to The August.
    “Good,” Cole said. “Pull the men in. Charlie’s running and I don’t want them interfering unless she tries to head back to her room.”
    “Got it,” Jake confirmed.
    Cole hung up and re-pocketed his phone. Then he stepped out onto the sidewalk and inhaled slowly. Deeply. He caught her scent easily. It was as if it called to him. He smiled and allowed his power to surround him as he headed off down the street. People moved aside, giving him a wide berth.
    For all they knew, he wasn’t even