Rachel Vincent - Rogue (Werecats, Book 2)

ROGUE

By

Rachel Vincent

Contents

Praise for Stray by
RACHEL VINCENT

Compelling and edgy, dark and evocative, Stray is a must read! I loved it from beginning to end.

New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter

Stray is thoroughly enjoyable, with no gaps and all go. An end-of-innocence story in a sometimes savage world whose social structure is recognizable, yet very much not human. Vincent skillfully handles powerful topics through her character Faythe, whose tough-chick attitude proves that those born to rule are going to break a few rules along the wayand probably a few heartsand maybe a head or two. Rachel Vincent is a new author that Im going to be watching.

New York Times bestselling author Kim Harrison

I liked the character and loved the action. I look forward to reading the next book in the series.

New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris.

Well written, fresh, charming, great voiceBuffy meets Cat People. I loved it, and look forward to much more in the future from this talented author.

New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

**** Vincents debut is fast paced and cleverly written, and it should find favor with fans of the shape-shifter subgenre. Even those not usually enamored by it could be won over by the sheer power and clarity of her voice. Plus, some of those male werecats are choice!

Romantic Times BOOKreviews

Books by RACHEL VINCENT

STRAY (Book #1)

ROGUE (Book #2)

RACHEL VINCENT

ROGUE

This is for Number One, who puts up with me
on a daily basis. Who is patient when the
line between fiction and reality blurs. Who
remembers when I forget. And who does
hundreds of little things to keep me healthy
and happy, because we both know Id rather be
working than sleeping or eating. Im still up and
running because you take care of me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe more than I could ever express to my critique partner, Rinda Elliott, for the use of her eagle eyes and for her willingness to tell me when Im not living up to my potential. I only hope Im half as much help to her as she is to me.

Thanks to my Dad, for the native Texans perspective.

Thanks to Livia Rosa, for double-checking my Portuguese, and for making suggestions. To Elizabeth Mazer, for more work on my behalf than I can begin to list. And to D. P. Lyle, M.D., whose medical expertise kept my corpses realistic. Any medical mistakes in this book are mine, not his.

Thanks to my agent, Miriam Kriss, for late-night, last-minute reads, and for all those times you must wish the Easy Button really worked.

And finally, thanks to my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, for patience, guidance, wisdom and encouragement. Your enthusiasm is contagious, and Im so happy to have caught it.

Chapter One

C atch and release, my ass! Grunting, I shoved the stray face down over the trunk of Marcs car, snatching back my free hand just in time to avoid his teeth as they snapped together. The bastard was half again my size, and thrashing like awell, like a scared cat, determined to shred anything he could get his hands onincluding me.

Several feet behind me, Marc watched, no doubt mentally noting every aspect of my performance so he could re-create it later for my father. So far, I hadnt given him much good to report.

Beating prowlers senseless to teach them a lesson was one thing; Id easily mastered most of the common scare tactics. But this whole chase-them-down-and-haul-them-out approach? That was bullshit. Complete and total idiocy. What was my father thinking?

The only stroke of luck Id had all evening was that the stray had fled to a deserted make-out spot on the outskirts of Dumas, Arkansas. If hed headed toward the town lights instead of away from them, Id never have caught him. I wouldnt even have tried. We couldnt risk human passersby seeing an average-size young woman like me haul around a man who outweighed me by at least forty pounds. And the truth was that if the stray had known how to fight, I probably couldnt have caught him.

Not that the capture had gone smoothly, even so. Marc had made no effort to help.

Can you give me a hand, here? I snapped at him over my shoulder, slamming the strays head back down on the trunk as he twisted, trying to break free of my grasp.

Masculine laughter rang out from behind me, unaccompanied by footsteps. Youre doing just fine, querida.

Dontfuckingcallmethat, I growled through clenched jaws. With my free hand, I seized one of the trespassers flailing arms and pinned it to the small of his back. His other hand escaped me, clawing grooves into the paint. Not that it made any difference on Marcs oft-abused car.

Marc laughed, unmoved by my threat.

Leaning forward, I draped myself across the intruders back to hold him still. His heart pounded fiercely against the thin, shiny material of a red blouse Id had no plans to fight in.

His free hand flailed, still out of reach. I squeezed the wrist Id captured. His bones ground together. Howling in pain, he bucked beneath me. I held on, determined not to screw up my first solo capture. Not with Marc watching. Hed never let me live it down.

Let me go, bitch, the stray growled, his words distorted with his face pressed into the car.

Behind me, Marc chuckled again. I think he likes you, Faythe.

Either help or shut up. With my free hand, I dug into my back pocket for my new handcuffs, fresh out of the package and still shiny. It was time to break them in.

Metal clinked against metal as I opened the first cuff, and the strays thrashing intensified. He threw his head back and tossed his free arm up at an awkward angle. His hand smashed into mine. My fist opened.

For one agonizing moment, the open half circle of metal dangled from my index finger, the other end swinging like a pendulum. Then the cuff slipped from my grasp and landed across the toe of my prisoners left shoe. Tightening my grip on his wrist, I bent to grab it, hauling him backward in the process. He kicked out. The cuff sailed beneath the car, skidding across the gravel.

Damn it! So much for shiny and new. I jerked us both upright and slapped the back of the strays head. He growled. Marc laughed. I barely held back a scream of frustration. This was not how my first catch-and-release was supposed to go.

Shoving aside my irritation, I slammed the stray back down on the trunk, but it was too late to regain the upper hand. Id screwed up, and hed rediscovered his balls.

Grunting, the stray threw his elbow back, into my left side. Pain tore through my chest and abdomen. My breath escaped in a single, harsh puff. His arm slid through my fist, and I nearly lost my grip.

Screw this. Hed blown his shot at nice-and-easy, which only left quick-and-brutalmy favorite way to play.

I sucked in a deep breath. Fire raced up my newly bruised side. I shifted my weight onto my left leg and slammed my right knee into his groin.

The stray made a single, pain-filled gulping sound, as if he were swallowing his own tongue. For a moment, I heard only Marcs steady breathing at my back and the crickets chirruping all around us. Then my prisoner screamed. He hit notes that would have made Steven Tyler wince.

Satisfied that he couldnt stand, much less run, I let him go. He crumpled to the ground at my feet, shrieking like a little girl.

Well, thats certainly one way to do it. Marc stepped up to my side. He looked a little pale, and not just from the moonlight.

I smoothed more hair back from my face, eyeing the pathetic form on the gravel. Give me your damn cuffs, I snapped at Marc, not the least bit ashamed of myself for dropping my opponent with a knee to the groin.

Marc pulled his own handcuffs from his back pocket. Remind me not to piss you off, he said, dropping them into my open palm.