Pursued by a Werewolf (Mystic Isle, Book 4) Read Free

quick jabs shoved the leather bag backward. He grunted through the vibrations traveling up his arms, shifting from one foot to the other, always moving. Keeping his eye on the dead center of the leather, he ducked left and drilled his right fist up in a chin shot.
    From across the volleyball court, he’d taken one look at her and known he’d found his mate, his other half, the one woman he didn’t want to live without. It was all there in her wide smile, the sweet, infectious sound of her laughter, and the way she treated her teammates with respect.
    Thanks to Maxim and Ceara’s relationship, over the past year and a half, Hunter and Avery had slowly become friends. But she had it in her head that that was all they could be; that she wasn’t cut out for a relationship.
    Every time he’d tried to find out more about her past and her reasons for keeping things casual, she’d switched the topic. Her denials were a source of frustration.
    A spinning round-house kick made the bag shake anew.
    Friends . He hated ‘being friends.’ It was time to push through the barriers she’d erected around her heart. He knew Avery had secrets. Deep down somewhere, the kind that ate at a person over time. Even though she was always happy-go-lucky, friendly...no one was that happy.
    No one focused that much energy on appearing carefree without trying to cover something up. It was all a ruse, he was sure now.
    His fists connected with the bag. Left. Right.
    Friendship be damned.
    Left again. Double jab. The pressure reverberated up his wrist.
    It was time to make her tell him the truth. To break down the walls she’d erected around her heart.
    His plan was a calculated risk. Ease off the gas, become more aloof in hopes that she’d miss him. Resisting her would be hell, especially since he had to put himself in her line of sight, sit back and wait for her to come to him. But pursuing her, no matter how gently, didn’t work.
    She held fast to their original agreement. While she’d been his, exclusively, completely, for those three glorious days, it’d been too short. That time in her arms, getting to know her, only whetted his appetite for more.
    He stepped back and sighed, his heart sinking. What if his plan didn’t work? What if he failed and she never got past her demons? Grinding his teeth, he closed his eyes and dropped his head. She could be stubborn, ornery where he was concerned.
    Letting out a deep, frustrated growl, he jerked his right fist back and plowed it into the bag with everything he was worth. The chains snapped and the heavily padded bag tumbled end over end across the room.
    “Taking your frustrations out on an innocent punching bag?”
    Hunter ripped the Velcro tab on his left glove and turned toward the voice. Charles Latham. The god who owned Mystic Isle was tall, blond, blue eyed, and according to Avery, physically perfect.
    Hunter bit back a snarl of jealousy.
    “Something like that.”
    “Let me guess,” the god said, striding forward with a grace only gods possessed. “Woman trouble.”
    “Got it in one.”
    “A certain black haired beauty?” Latham guessed.
    “Yep.” Hunter ripped off the other glove.
    “Give her time.”
    Something about the way Latham was looking at him led Hunter to believe the god knew something about Avery, her past perhaps, and was giving advice accordingly. Part of him wanted to beg for the information. But the wolf inside him demanded she come to him on her own. Come and submit. His human side said he must stick with the plan. Perhaps she was the one honeybee whose taste buds preferred vinegar to honey.
    “Don’t you mean fly?” Latham asked.
    Hunter frowned.
    “The expression is ‘you’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’”
    “Oh.” Being around an all knowing god took some getting used to. “Right.”
    Still, he preferred to think of Avery as a honeybee rather than a fly.
    Latham’s lips quirked.
    Hunter sighed and put the gloves away. “I’ve