HEART OF THE WOLF

D. B. Reynolds

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

HEART OF THE WOLF

Copyright © 2010 by Donna Beltz

E-book ISBN: 1-60601-822-1

First E-book Publication: June 2010

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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DEDICATION

To all of the lost loves out there. May you soon be found.

HEART OF THE WOLF

D. B. REYNOLDS

Copyright © 2010

Chapter One

The angels wept, beautiful faces ravaged with grief, tears coursing down perfect cheeks to fall unheeded on the body cradled between them. Kathryn Avinger gazed up at the huge sculpture and wondered if even the angels could find it in them to weep today. A bitter wind scored the hillside, scattering bits of dirt off the mausoleum and into her eyes. She turned her face aside only to have a fan of dark hair whip across her cheek.

“Sorry,” Phoebe muttered, gathering her brown locks and twisting them beneath the stiff collar of her white shirt. She wore a business suit beneath her long, black coat and would no doubt rush right back to the office once this obligatory appearance at her father’s funeral was over.

Kathryn only wished she could rush away as easily. Unfortunately, she was supposed to be the grieving widow at this spectacle, and there was the press to consider, appearances to be maintained. The not-so-dearly-departed Preston Avinger was big money, which meant his death was front page news. And unfortunately, Kathryn was a big part of that story—the trophy wife, decades younger than her aging husband and, suddenly, a very wealthy widow.

She lifted her gaze slightly to see the reporters hovering like ghouls behind the weeping angels of the Avinger mausoleum, waiting for that perfect moment of grief to share with the world. Kathryn restrained a bitter smile. They were at the wrong funeral if they wanted grief. The angels might be the only true mourners here. She glanced at the people huddled around Preston’s grave, their faces somber as they pretended for the cameras. Most of them were well used to public scrutiny—leaders of business, the mayor, and both of the state’s U.S. senators, even though Preston had only contributed to one. He’d quite despised the other and made no pretense about it. Kathryn had always wondered what the woman had done to offend him. But maybe being a woman was enough. No one would ever accuse Preston Avinger of social liberalism.

The wind kicked up again, harder this time, as if to urge them off the steep hillside. Kathryn hunched deeper into an elegant cashmere coat and wondered if she’d ever be warm again. Ten years in this city and she was still cold. She hated this place.

“Christ, get on with it,” a deep voice muttered quietly behind her. That would be Preston Junior, the loving son, her stepson, she supposed, though he was fifteen years older than she was. His words were meant only for Kathryn and for his sister, Phoebe, to hear. Among the three of them, at least, there were no illusions of sorrow.

For her own part, Kathryn felt nothing. She was numb, though certainly not with grief. Her husband had been sick for years before he died, and even before that…

Well, surely it said something about a man when not even his wife and children mourned his passing.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the minister finally ceased his fruitless prayers for Preston’s corrupt soul and laid a hand on her arm. She fought the urge to shake the hand off and looked up to meet his pale blue eyes. He seemed kind, solicitous even. But of course, he’d never really known Preston.

“It is time, my dear,” he said gently.

Kathryn nodded, tight-lipped beneath the camouflage of her dark glasses. She took a single step forward, bent down, and scooped up a handful of loose dirt, gritty against the tight leather of her gloves. Another step and she dribbled it slowly onto the coffin, hearing the individual pebbles hit the solid mahogany box. She lingered a moment longer, rubbing her fingers together with a frown before stepping backward. Her heel twisted on the uneven ground, and her bodyguard Tommy reached out to steady her, one big hand cupped under her elbow discreetly.

Cameras flashed across the way as photographers scrambled to catch the moment, preserving forever the widow’s distress—film at eleven.

Kathryn turned away from the lenses, leaning unnecessarily on Tommy’s strength.

Phoebe and her brother approached the grave together, grabbing up a few fingers of dirt and tossing it quickly into the hole before walking away. They had nothing to say over their father’s grave that they hadn’t already said to him in person more than once. With their departure, the rest of the mourners filed past quickly, some pausing to add to the scattering of dirt, some barely glancing below to see the quality of the coffin before moving on. A few stopped to offer their condolences to Kathryn, but no one lingered. It was cold, and they were eager to get to their cars and limousines.

Kathryn found herself suddenly alone at the grave site. Only Tommy remained by her side. After so many years—the long illness, the endless mourning period demanded by her husband’s notoriety, the false tributes and elaborate memorial he’d arranged for himself long before his death—after all that, it was done. At long last, she was alone.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and the ever-attentive Tommy steered her gently toward the waiting limousine. They walked slowly, her high heels threatening to trip her with every step in the thick grass.

They had almost reached the limo when she heard the tearing silk sound of a bullet cutting through air. She moved without thought, hitting the ground as the deadly missile whipped through the space where her head used to be, as the crack of the sniper’s fire broke the funeral silence and Tommy was falling on top of her, covering her with his body as a second bullet followed the first.

Hysteria. People screaming, rushing for their cars, the press pushing past the boundaries set up before the funeral, in hopes of snapping a prize-winning shot of her bloody body or catching her last earthly words before her tragic death. No doubt they’d be terribly disappointed to discover she was unhurt.

Kathryn lay beneath Tommy’s weight, thinking about the mourners who’d already hurried away after the funeral and so, missing the excitement. She wondered how many of them would lie and say they’d been there when the shot was fired, how they’d breathlessly recount the desperate run for their lives.

“Give me a minute, Kathryn,” Tommy said, interrupting her cynical thoughts. His voice, low and tight with stress, trembled slightly with adrenaline and maybe even fear. She heard him call out to their driver, just his name, asking a question.

“Rigo?”

Rigo must have given a silent go-ahead because they were up and moving, Tommy pulling her to her feet, careful with her but not wasting any time, his heavy body all but draped over hers as he hustled her the few yards to the limo and followed her inside.

“Go!” Tommy snapped, slamming the door behind them.

Rigo had the limo accelerating away before the door had fully closed, swerving around the other cars, bouncing over the well-tended grass. Horns honked and people swore. Kathryn barely heard them.

“Are you hurt?” Tommy asked.

Kathryn stared at him, blinking hard as she struggled to focus.

“Kathryn, are you hurt?” Tommy’s voice went up a full octave with tension. He scooted quickly toward her, hands out to pat her down, or whatever it was bodyguards did to make sure their charges hadn’t been shot.

“I’m fine,” she managed. She brushed his hands away gently. He was a good man, Tommy. “I’m fine,” she repeated more strongly. She dug a smile out and pasted it on her face. “A little rattled, that’s all.”

She leaned back into the plush leather, noticing twin streaks of grass and dirt on the front of her coat. She stared at the stains absently. Her knees must have hit the ground when…

“Somebody tried to kill me,” she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy said cautiously.

She turned in time to catch a worried look pass between the two men. “I wonder why,” she said.

Chapter Two

Renjiro Roesner let the heavy door slam behind him, closing off the chatty bottle blonde next door who was fresh off her third divorce and already trolling for hubby number four. Not in this lifetime. He shrugged off his heavy topcoat and threw it over the back of the sofa, pausing only long enough to grab the remote and click on the television as he headed for the refrigerator and a beer. The local news anchors blared out their cheerful recitation of murder, mayhem, and corrupt politicians, as he twisted off the cap and sucked down a long draught of the dark brew.

What the hell was he doing in this fucking city?

He grabbed the folder of takeout menus left for him by the leasing agent and stepped out of his Ferragamo loafers, making a note to himself to wear boots tomorrow. It had already started to snow by the time the taxi dropped him off tonight. He couldn’t remember if it usually snowed this time of year around here. He’d been gone a long time.

He wandered into the living room as the news program shifted away from its token feel-good report and returned to a rehash of the city’s latest outrage. Some widow had been shot at during her husband’s funeral, for Christ’s sake.

Was there no decency left in the world?

He shrugged.

What the humans did to one another wasn’t his problem. His problem was trying to find out why his Alpha had suddenly called him back to the U.S. from Europe after so many years. Not that he’d wasted his time over there. The European wolves had been in disarray since the last war, and there’d been plenty of opportunities for an enterprising dominant like Renjiro to make a name for himself. But despite his long absence, he was still nominally a member of the North American clan—he’d never changed his allegiance—and when his Alpha called, he had to come.

He sighed and turned his attention back to the menus, trying to decide what to order for dinner. The Italian was out of the question. There was no way it could measure up to what he was used to. And his Japanese mother would never forgive him if he ordered takeout sashimi.

On-screen, the news program had switched to a live feed from outside police headquarters where a reporter was breathlessly informing the audience that several days after the funeral shooting, the police remained stymied. Ren glanced up as footage of the incident itself began to roll. A windy hillside cemetery, great view of the harbor—what was the point of planting the dead with a great view, anyway? Who was supposed to enjoy it?

The video rolled on showing the usual assortment of black-clothed mourners.

Must be some money in that crowd, he thought. Lots of designer duds.

The picture jumped to the money shot, the silver-haired widow being escorted away from the graveside by a big gorilla of a bodyguard, when, suddenly, everyone was hitting the deck and screaming. More screaming than hitting the deck, he noticed, except for the widow and her gorilla, who were sensibly on the ground.

He frowned, playing the scene back in his head. Something about it wasn’t quite right, although he couldn’t put his finger on what. The footage was still playing as the apparently unharmed widow, barely visible behind the bulk of the bodyguard, was hustled off the ground into the safety of the limo. Ren tilted his head back to drain the last of his beer as he watched.

The cameraman got lucky at the last minute and caught a clear shot of the widow’s face.

Ren suddenly forgot to swallow. Beer rolled down his throat, nearly choking him as the bottle fell to the thick carpet. He scrambled for the remote, trying to remember where he’d thrown the damn thing on his way to the kitchen. He finally found it against the back of the couch and slammed his shin into the table diving for it. He swore viciously as his fingers found the control and hit rewind. Images blurred backward, and he silently blessed the redhead at the electronics store who’d convinced him to get TiVo along with his satellite package. He’d thought it a waste of money. He didn’t plan to be around that much. But she’d been a pretty, little thing, and he’d been thinking of the empty nights in this damn city.

He froze the playback on that single, clear frame of the widow.

Kathryn. He stared hungrily at the elegant lines of her face, the graceful curve of her jaw, the upper lip slightly too full for perfection. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of huge, dark glasses, but he knew they’d be storm gray with emotion, just as he knew they sparkled with lightning when she was angry or when she laughed. Her silver hair was cut brutally short. It had been long when he’d seen her last, thick and full and hanging down her back in a glistening waterfall.

He stared, forgetting to breathe. Damn. How long had it been? Ten years? It felt more like ten lifetimes. She looked the same, but then she would. Ten years was nothing to their kind.

He sat down heavily and played the footage again, listening to the details, the announcer’s voice-over suitably somber but with a trill of excitement he couldn’t hide.

The dead man was Preston Avinger, Kathryn’s husband—billionaire investor, patron of the arts, friend to politicians, all the usual accoutrements of wealth, and eighty-two years old at the time of his death. Kathryn was twenty-eight, and she’d been Avinger’s wife for ten years. Almost as long as Ren had been gone. Exiled.

A memory struck him suddenly, so bright and sharp, it was a blade slipping through his ribs to slice his heart. Kathryn, eighteen years old and beautiful. Her silver fur gleaming in the light of the full moon, her form a vision of sheer, elegant grace as she ran through the forests of Clanhome.

Her father, Dominick Bartek, Alpha to the wolves of North America, had promised her to Ren and then sent him away so he could give her to the wealthy human instead. Ren’s beautiful Kathryn, shackled to a human more than fifty years her senior. It was the reason Ren hadn’t fought Dom about staying in Europe. There’d been nothing left for him here but memories. That, and an anger so deep he couldn’t be in the same room with his Alpha without wanting to kill him.

Ren rolled the report back to the beginning once again, turning off the irritating announcer’s voice and watching the scene unfold in silence. So Kathryn’s husband was dead. Suddenly, it all made sense, and Ren knew why he had been called back to this fucking city.

* * * *

His phone rang ten minutes later while he was still staring at Kathryn’s face like a lovesick schoolboy. He’d played the few minutes of the attack over and over, cursing the television station for their clumsy editing and wishing he’d been in town long enough to have a single decent contact with a news organization or even the cops.

He picked up the phone.

“Roesner,” he snapped. He froze at the sound of Dom’s voice, lips curling back over his teeth in anger, barely managing to swallow the growl trying to force its way up his throat. “Yes, sir,” he rasped. “I saw it on the news.”

His rage only grew as he listened to what the Alpha had to say. “I’ll take care of it,” he snarled and heard the line go to dead air.

He stared at the empty phone for several minutes, then threw it across the room. “Son of a bitch!”

He wanted to put his fist through something, preferably Dom’s face. But he settled for dropping to the sofa and running both hands through his thick, black hair. He didn’t know how Kathryn felt about him anymore. He was no longer certain he ever had. But he knew one thing for sure. She would not be happy to see him again.

He stood up, retrieved the remarkably undamaged phone, and placed a call.

“This is Roesner. You know who I am?” The person on the other end, someone he’d never met before, agreed that he did indeed know and had expected the call.

“Great.” Ren heard the bitterness in his own voice and banished it. This was business. And he was very good at his business.

“I’ll want to visit the scene, but first—” The other man interrupted to say something. Ren waited and then continued as if the other hadn’t spoken. “I’ll need to see Mrs. Avinger. Alone.”

Chapter Three

Kathryn stood in front of the huge picture window behind Preston’s desk and watched the snow falling outside the penthouse apartment. This high up, the winds were erratic. Every once in a while, a few flakes would drift against the glass, where they would cling for a few precious seconds before melting away, sliding ignominiously down the slick surface to become nothing more than one more drop of moisture on a wet day.

She pressed her hand against the window, but the glass was thick and double paned. Nothing so crude as cold weather was allowed to enter Preston Avinger’s inner sanctum. Hers now. All of this was hers. The penthouse apartment, the vacation homes around the globe, and more investments than she could reasonably count. And God knew she’d earned it. Every penny.

Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, and Kathryn identified her housekeeper’s featherweight followed by Tommy’s heavy tread.

Behind her, the door opened softly. “Mrs. Avinger?”

“Yes, Marla?” Kathryn turned away from the window.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there’s someone here from the police. He wants to speak with you.”

More questions? She’d spoken to so many policemen and detectives and even the commissioner himself since the funeral. Every one of them had asked her the same questions over and over. And she’d given them the same answers. She had no idea who would want to kill her.

“Can’t it wait?” She said it wistfully, knowing what the answer would be.

Marla glanced over her shoulder at Tommy, then turned and took several steps into the room. “He says it’s important,” she said softly, her hands twisting together in agitation. “Someone’s got to help you, and he’s different than the others.”

“Different? How?” Kathryn looked at Tommy, but he shrugged.

“I don’t know exactly,” Marla said. “He’s more intense, frightening almost. But Tommy checked, and the officer downstairs says he’s cleared to see you.”

Kathryn lifted her gaze over Marla’s shoulder, wishing she could see through the walls to the penthouse’s small vestibule.

“Kathryn,” Tommy said urgently, but she shushed him gently.

“All right, Marla. Let him in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the housekeeper said. “Shall I bring coffee? Or tea?” Behind her, Tommy shook his head in disapproval, but Kathryn shot him a reproving look and smiled at Marla.

“Let’s wait and see,” she said.

* * * *

Kathryn stiffened, her gaze going to the door, eyes wide with shock. She’d known it was a wolf the minute he turned down the hallway and had expected one of her father’s men, but she hadn’t expected this.

He filled the open space, towering over Marla like some ancient god of vengeance in an Armani suit. He looked exactly the same as he had all those years ago—a big man with the golden skin of his Japanese mother, straight black hair cut to a blunt edge right above his collar and pushed ruthlessly behind his ears. His father’s blood was in the slight rounding of the black eyes, the aquiline nose, in his height and the breadth of his shoulders.

Renjiro Roesner—her first love, her last, her only. He had disappeared from Clanhome without warning, leaving no note, no word for her, the girl he’d claimed to love. Two weeks later, she was married to Preston Avinger. Seeing him now resurrected too many feelings she wanted to forget, and every one of them hurt like hell.

“Kathryn.” His voice was a low rumble, tight with stress. He stared at her hungrily and yet his gaze kept shifting to Tommy, who drifted ever closer to Kathryn’s side, his body language clearly saying he saw this newcomer as a threat.

“Tommy,” Kathryn said quietly. She understood Ren’s dilemma. He was a wolf, and she was an unmated female among humans, strangers, at least to Ren. His instincts would be screaming at him to protect her. As much as she wanted to reject it, to insist it had nothing to do with her any longer, she understood it. And there was no doubt in her mind who would suffer if Tommy pushed it too far.

“Tommy,” she said again, louder.

Her bodyguard jolted, his gaze jerking reluctantly away from the wolf at the door.

“This is Mr. Roesner, Tommy. Renjiro Roesner. He’s a friend of my father’s.”

Ren’s gaze sharpened when she said that. She could feel his temper simmering just below the surface and wanted her people out of the room before it boiled over.

“That will be all, Marla,” she said gently. “Thank you.” The housekeeper gave Ren a last, nervous glance and hurried from the room. Tommy was another matter.

Kathryn gave Ren a warning look, then walked over to Tommy and touched his arm. She felt both men tense at the touch and suddenly felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. She squeezed her bodyguard’s thick bicep.

“It’s all right, Tommy,” she said and stepped around to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at her instead of Ren. “I’m in no danger from Mr. Roesner,” she said, hoping it was true.

Tommy’s expression combined the hurt of a ten-year-old with the possessiveness of a grown man. Kathryn smiled reassuringly and said, “We need a few minutes alone. It’s business, family business. You understand.”

Tommy met her eyes intently, as if trying to read the hidden message in her request and not finding it. Then he glanced over her shoulder at Ren and back once again to Kathryn.

“You’re sure, Kathryn?” he said in voice low enough that if Ren had been human he’d have missed the exchange.

“I’m sure,” she said confidently. “A few minutes.”

Tommy nodded, clearly unhappy but willing to trust her judgment. He walked past Ren on his way out, turning at the last moment to give him a hard stare.

“I’ll wait right outside, Mrs. Avinger,” he said for Ren’s benefit and stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.

“You do that,” Ren muttered.

Kathryn closed the door with a firm click, pausing for a long moment, her back to Renjiro and everything he stood for.

“Kathryn,” he said softly.

She turned then, her eyes scanning him from head to toe, drinking in the sight of him. She’d loved him so much. Her heart squeezed in her chest, mocking any pretense that her feelings had changed. She loved him still.

Ren’s expression had shifted, all of the raging emotion of only moments before now carefully shuttered behind unreadable black eyes.

“A friend of your father’s?” he asked softly.

“Aren’t you?”

“He is the Alpha.” The capital A was clear in the way he said it.

Kathryn raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“He is my Alpha,” Ren ground out from between clenched teeth.

Kathryn laughed despite herself, her lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. Wolves like Ren never submitted easily.

One corner of his mouth lifted briefly, acknowledging her small victory, his black eyes sparking with sudden pleasure. He met her gaze and the laughter washed away, replaced by something far more intense, something that stole her breath and tightened things low in her body. He held out his hand.

“Kathryn.”

She stared at him, her gaze switching from the wolf now peering out from behind his eyes to his broad palm and back again. She raised her hand slowly, her fingers trembling until she steadied them with an act of sheer willpower.

His strong fingers closed over hers, mindful of his strength and so careful as he tightened his hold until he was pulling her gently into the curve of his arm, the swell of his chest. Kathryn swallowed a sob of relief as his arms came around her, as she felt safe for the first time in longer than she could remember.

Ren sighed, his breath running out in a long, slow exhale as if he’d been holding it for hours rather than minutes. “Kathryn,” he murmured.

She’d dreamed of this moment for months after her marriage to Preston, dreamed that Ren would find her somehow and save her. But he never had. And she’d learned a hard lesson, not to count on anyone but herself. She pushed lightly against his chest, not trusting herself to remain in control with him so close. “I can’t—”

“Let me hold you. Just for a minute. For me.”

She sighed, feeling her wolf deep inside preening itself with pleasure. Her wolf knew what she wanted whether Kathryn did or not.

She couldn’t have said how long she stood there, Ren’s heartbeat strong beneath her ear, his heat and strength surrounding her. She stirred at last, not because she wasn’t comfortable, but because she was.

“Why are you here, Ren?” she asked, trying to regain some distance. “Marla said you’re with the police?” She knew that couldn’t be true but wasn’t surprised he’d told Marla and Tommy it was.

“I’m here to help you. To find out who’s behind this and stop them for good.”

She frowned and stepped back even farther until she could look up at his face. “I thought you were living in Europe?”

“I was. I am. Dom called me.”

Kathryn stiffened and pushed completely out of his embrace, putting distance between them. He let her go, his arms trailing away, his hands lingering until she backed out of his reach.

“My father?” she demanded.

Ren shrugged, eyeing her curiously. “He called me back to the city a few days ago. I didn’t know why, but then I saw the funeral video on the news last night.”

She turned her back on him and walked around the desk, wanting to put something physical and solid between them.

“Why would my father—”

“I told you, I don’t know. But now that someone’s tried to kill you, Dom’s worried and he wants me to check into it.”

Kathryn’s heart, so recently warmed, froze instantly. Ren hadn’t come home for her. This was just more of her father’s interference, maneuvering to control her, using her in his games of power. She should have known better. She did know better. Ten years with Preston had taught her to guard every emotion, to give away nothing for free. If it had been anyone else, anyone but Ren, it never would have gotten even this far. Something her father had no doubt counted on.

She gave Ren a hard stare. “My father’s concerns are of no interest to me.”

“I got the impression—”

“Neither are your impressions. I see you’re still doing Dom’s bidding.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He straightened and came toward her, his cool exterior vanishing in a flash, burned away by the anger underneath.

Kathryn retreated two steps closer to the window at her back, forcing herself to remain still as soon as she realized what she’d done.

“Did I lie to Tommy, Ren?”

“What?” He stopped, frowning at her in confusion.

“When I told him you were no danger to me. Was I mistaken?”

Her words wounded him, as she’d known they would. “I’d never hurt you, Kathryn,” he protested softly. “You know that.”

Suddenly, it was all too much. Kathryn closed her eyes against the ache of seeing him again and turned away to stare out the window with its doomed snowflakes.

“What do you want, Ren?” she asked tiredly. “The police have already asked all their questions, and the answer is always the same. I don’t know anything.”

She heard him move, coming around the desk to stand only a few feet away from her. This close, she could feel the heat of his body and was almost overwhelmed by the scent of him as his wolf reacted to her. It was nothing personal, she told herself, the automatic reaction of an alpha male to an unattached female. Even if Preston had still been alive, Ren’s reaction would have been the same. Preston wasn’t Wolf. He didn’t count. He couldn’t have triggered her mating instincts even if she’d loved him. Which she never had.

“Kathryn…”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered without looking at him. “Please, Ren. You don’t have to do this.” Kathryn could feel him staring at her, could hear his steady, even breaths, the thudding of his heart. She wanted to beg him to let it go, but she’d promised herself once that she would never again beg a man for anything.

“I had no choice,” he said unexpectedly. And she knew he was no longer talking about this evening or even this year. “They gave me an hour to pack my things and go. I wanted to say good-bye. I tried. But they wouldn’t let me. I left a note—”

“I never got it,” she whispered.

He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping the thick strands tightly before letting go to press his hands against the window next to her, arms stiff and straight, holding his weight away from the doubled glass.

“I know that,” he said. “I think I knew it even then. But I was only supposed to be gone a couple of months, so I figured it wouldn’t matter. But then I heard you’d married right after I left, and I knew. You were Dom’s only daughter. He wasn’t going to waste you on someone like me.” His head rotated so he could see her. “But I never thought he’d give you to a human.”

“He didn’t give me to anyone,” she said in a harsh voice. “He sold me for a fourteen percent interest in Avinger Holdings. The negotiations were completed before you left. There was never any chance for us.”

“You could have refused. You had the right—”

“I had no rights!” She turned to face him, setting her own anger free, permitting herself a genuine emotion for the first time in years. “I was eighteen years old! Eighteen and the only daughter of Dominick Bartek. Do you know what that means, Ren? I’d never left Clanhome, never cooked a meal. I’d barely used a telephone, never even seen a television set. I was little more than a child! Sheltered from the human world, raised to absolute obedience to my elders and to my Alpha above all. But more than that, I loved my father. And I knew…I knew he loved me.” She laughed bitterly.

“Kathryn, I know—” He straightened away from the window, and she stopped him from coming closer, one hand raised palm out to ward him off.

“No,” she said. “No, Ren, you don’t. You don’t know anything. I’m not that little eighteen-year-old swept off her feet by the oh-so-powerful Renjiro Roesner. You say you left a note, and maybe you did. I don’t know. What I do know is that I was all alone. No one stood up for me. No one. My father sold me into marriage with a human I’d never met, and no one raised a finger. Not my mother, my brothers, not a single clan elder, not even you.”

“I didn’t know about it,” Ren protested angrily, his hands fisted at his sides, muscles straining at the fabric of his suit coat. “Hell, for all I know you were in on it, too. Maybe you and Dom had a good laugh at how stupid I was, how gullible. You married Avinger two weeks after I was gone, for Christ’s sake. There was a wedding! You really expect me to believe you knew nothing about it beforehand? I heard everything afterward, Kathryn, every little detail. People knew about us. They couldn’t wait to tell me. I felt like an idiot. Why the hell do you think I stayed in Europe all these years?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have stayed a little longer, then,” she snarled back at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of being Dom’s attack dog? Or is it his stud this time around? What’d he promise you, Ren? Me? Well, think again, pal, because I’m done playing the whore for my father.”

She drew a deep breath. The air tasted sweeter than it had in years, and she was suddenly calm.

“In any event,” she continued smoothly, “you don’t need to worry about me anymore and neither does Dom. As soon as the estate clears, I’m leaving and I won’t be back.”

Ren stared at her, his mouth a grim line, the muscles in his jaw clenching visibly as he struggled to contain his anger. His voice when he spoke was cold and flat.

“Dom didn’t promise me anything, Kathryn. I came because I cared about you, because I wanted you safe.” He blinked and looked away, his gaze staring out at the falling snow, before returning to regard her with an almost weary expression.

“And I still do. I’ll find your shooter, and I’ll eliminate him. And then I’m going home. You can hardly wait to get out of this place? Well, neither can I.”

He spun on his heel, striding across the darkened room with the uncanny grace of a born predator. Kathryn’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him go, as she thought about losing him again, forever this time. She sucked in a breath to call out to him, to ask him to stay, to talk. But then the door was opening and Ren was saying something to Tommy, his deep voice too soft for her to hear. Tommy nodded and then Ren was gone, his footsteps silent despite the cold marble floor.

“You okay, Kathryn?” Tommy asked.

She dug out a smile for him and hoped he couldn’t see her tears. “I’m fine, Tommy. I’m always fine.”

Chapter Four

Ren stood on the cemetery hillside and stared up at the Avinger mausoleum, now covered with a frosting of snow. Old Preston’s grave had been filled in, the raw earth covered over with neat squares of green sod. His name was already etched into the roll of Avinger dead on the monument, the fresh snow blending into granite dust still visible in the corners of the archaic lettering.

Eighty-two years old. What the hell had Dom been thinking? And what did it matter now? Avinger was dead. History. Just like Ren, as far as Kathryn was concerned.

He sighed and turned, gazing out over the harbor, taking in that great view. He’d known it would be rough seeing her again. What he hadn’t known, hadn’t figured on somehow, was that Kathryn had grown up in the intervening years. She was no longer the sweet girl he’d exchanged secret kisses and whispered promises with. She was a fully mature female who aroused every protective and dominant instinct of his wolf, not to mention a whole lot of other less noble feelings. Unfortunately, she also rejected everything about him.

It was a cold awakening.

He crushed the anger, the rage that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of losing her again and forced himself to concentrate on the business at hand. He surveyed the grassy hillside.

“Mrs. Avinger’s limo was about there?” Ren pointed beyond the yellow crime-scene tape, already knowing within a fraction of an inch exactly where she’d been standing every second of those few moments.

Detective Tony Maietta nodded and walked over, turning to sight along the route Kathryn and the bodyguard had taken back to the limo. “Bodyguard was with her, kinda holding her elbow, like she needed help staying upright, you know? Husband’s funeral and all, I guess. They’d been married a few years.”

He paused, as if gauging Ren’s reaction to his next words. “Gotta say, though, a looker like that, and so much younger. Can’t think she’d be too heartbroken to lose the old man.” He shrugged.

Ren scowled but didn’t say anything. Maietta’s comments pretty much reflected his own thinking, but he wasn’t happy to have Kathryn dismissed as some sort of trophy for a rich man. She deserved more. She deserved…

What, Ren? You?

He forced his mind back on track. “You checked Mrs. Avinger’s bodyguards,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Maietta nodded. “Both of them have been with her a while. Both half in love with her is my read.”

Ren felt his hackles rise and forced himself to calm down. Whatever feelings the bodyguards did or didn’t have for Kathryn, it wasn’t any of his business. Not anymore. He slammed his hand against the hard stone and, ignoring Maietta’s look of surprise, strode over to Kathryn’s actual location at the time of the shooting. Turning slowly, he identified the building the shot had to have come from, calculating trajectory, wind speed. Distance would be a factor with this cold weather.

“You find the shooter’s location?”

“You’re probably looking at it,” Maietta said. “Fifteenth floor, and get this—apartment belongs to Avinger. Apparently used it for getting a little on the side, although why an old guy like that would need—anyway,” he continued, “obviously, the shooter knew it would be empty, given the circumstances. There’s a few scratch marks where he set up his mount, but that’s it. No one saw anything, no one heard anything. This was a professional job.”

Ren grunted, following the likely path with his eyes, remembering the exact moment Kathryn had gone down. “You find either bullet?”

“Nope. It was windy that day, probably fucked up the shot. But the bullets could be anywhere.”

“Metal detectors?”

“They’ll be out later today, but, Roesner, this is a cemetery for rich people. There’s more gold in these graves than you or I will see in a lifetime. That’ll make locating a couple of slugs pretty damn difficult.”

Ren was pretty sure he could locate them. It was a matter of looking in the right place, not to mention the advantage of a wolf’s nose. But then he knew the shooter had only missed because Kathryn had heard the bullet coming. Anyone else would have been dead.

On the other hand, he had no intention of digging out the bullets only to have them snatched away into evidence by Maietta. Which meant he needed the good detective to go on back to his work for the taxpayers.

“This cemetery have a manager or caretaker? Anyone talk to him?”

“Her, actually. Relatively new on the job.” Maietta caught Ren’s quick look. “Not that new. Two years. Old guy was here for forty before he retired. And, yeah, someone talked to her, but, shit, it’s a fucking cemetery. People come and go all the time. The shooter could have stood right here taking pictures of every building that suited him and no one would have noticed.”

“Probably right. Mind if I have a word with her anyway?”

Maietta shrugged again. “Knock yourself out. Office is over that way. She’s in nine to five, like a banker.”

“Okay, thanks. If I come up with something, you’re the one I call?”

The detective nodded. “I’m your contact for the duration, and let’s be clear about something, Roesner. I’ve got no problem with you on this. Neither does my captain. We want this case cleared as much as you do. The Avingers are big money, and that gets the widow personal protection until we figure out who’s behind the hit, but I’ll be honest. It’s taking up men that could be better used somewhere else.

“Just do me one favor. I don’t know exactly who you are. I’m told to let you in on this investigation, and that’s what I’ll do. But if you turn up anything, I want to know what it is. I don’t want you going vigilante on me.”

Ren smiled for the first time since leaving Kathryn’s penthouse, a slow, lazy grin that wasn’t even trying to reassure Maietta. “You’ll know what I know,” he said, leaving the “eventually” part of the sentence unspoken.

* * * *

Ren followed Maietta’s four-door police-issue sedan away from the grave site, turning his own Mercedes CL600 off onto the small road leading to the manager’s office. Maietta gave a quick farewell tap on his horn, and Ren lifted one hand in acknowledgment.

He went through the motions of talking to the woman, a trim brunette with that irritatingly placid attitude of undertakers everywhere. It always made him want to do something outrageous to see how they’d respond. He managed to restrain himself long enough to convince her he cared about what he was asking, then thanked her politely and drove back to Avinger’s grave.

Beginning at the elaborate monument, Ren retraced Kathryn’s exact steps for the third time that day, pausing at the moment of the first shot and factoring in her height, which was several inches shorter than his own six foot four. He remembered she’d been wearing high heels and added a few inches, recalculated the bullets’ trajectory, walked a few steps, and dropped to the ground, heedless of the snow-wet grass.

It took longer than he expected. And when he finally located the first crumpled bullet, it had more to do with his body’s unique sensitivities than to any precision on the part of his mathematical skills. He dug down into the grass several inches and found what looked like a .338 slug, badly distorted by distance and collision with the hard ground. The second was easier to find now that he knew what to look for.

Standing up, he raised one of the slugs to the thin light, turning it in his thick fingers. He felt the first trickle of real fear for Kathryn’s safety. Winking back at him from beneath the covering of dirt and grass, making his fingers itch, was the dull sheen of silver. Someone hadn’t only taken a shot at Kathryn Avinger. They’d known enough about her and what she was to use silver bullets to do it.

Chapter Five

“This is not something the human police can handle, Kathryn, and you know it.”

He was back at her penthouse, back in that damn study that stank so strongly of Preston Avinger, Ren had to wonder if Kathryn had ever been in the room before today. And this was where she’d chosen to meet him. Had it been calculated on her part? Did she understand what it cost him to stand there and pretend to be human with the scent of her ex-husband all around him? Or had she become so separated from her wolf that she couldn’t even smell it anymore?

“Are you listening to me, Ren?” she responded testily. “I know you’re used to marching in and bossing everyone around, but this—”

“You don’t know anything anymore,” he snarled, his patience finally snapping. He closed the distance between them with a hard stride, drawing a small pouch out of his pocket and shoving it at her.

Kathryn jerked back, staring at the black silk bag, distorted as it was by the lump of silver slug inside.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

Ren met her gaze evenly. “Don’t you trust me, Kathryn?”

Kathryn stared at him and he could see the war in her eyes. She wanted to trust him. He believed that. So he made it easy for her, raising one eyebrow in a blatant challenge. Her lips tightened, and she stuck out her hand.

He emptied the bag, letting the silver slug fall into her cupped palm. She juggled it for a moment and he could see the fine rash popping up on her skin before she dropped the metal to the desk, letting it roll away in a lopsided sort of wiggle, before she turned to glare at him.

“That’s silver,” she said accusingly.

“That,” Ren clarified, “is what’s left of a silver bullet. One of two silver bullets that nearly took your life at the funeral.” He picked up the bit of crumpled silver and dropped it back into the pouch.

Kathryn stumbled away, the backs of her knees hitting the hard edge of the big chair as she fell into it.

“Silver bullets?” she whispered.

Ren tucked the bullet in its silk covering back into his pocket, hearing the fear in Kathryn’s voice with satisfaction. Finally, she was taking this seriously. He glanced over at her where she sat in the high-backed executive chair, her slender form dwarfed by its size. Her eyes were huge, their gray gone nearly white, her face pale with shock. Her hands looked impossibly delicate against the blocky arms of the chair, her fingers dancing with a fine tremble before she clenched them against the wood to stop it.

He felt a pang of remorse for frightening her like this but steeled himself against it. Whatever feelings he still had for her, she clearly had none left for him. He could hardly blame her for that, but he couldn’t let her risk her life in order to push him away, either. He crouched in front of her, keeping his hands to himself, not wanting to risk a touch between them when she was this vulnerable.

“Who knows about your wolf, Kathryn?”

She focused on him with obvious difficulty, and he watched with admiration as she visibly pulled herself together. She licked her lips.

“No one,” she said weakly, then drew herself up and spoke firmly. “Preston knew. Why do you think he paid my father so much for me?” she added bitterly.

Ren clenched his jaw so tightly, he could hear his bones grinding. Dominick Bartek had always been ruthlessly practical, but this was a new low, even for him. “Who else?” he ground out.

Kathryn glanced at him nervously. “Tommy. He had to know,” she added quickly, forestalling Ren’s protest. “He goes with me to the country house every month for the full moon. He’s never actually seen my wolf, but he’s not stupid.”

“Why not go to Clanhome? You would have been safe—”

She gave a hysterical bark of laugher. “There is no safety at Clanhome for me, Renjiro. There never was. Besides, Tommy loves me. He’d never—”

Ren couldn’t stop his growl of rage. He stood up, shoving the chair and Kathryn away, and forced himself to walk to the other side of the room. He stood there for several seconds until he was certain of his control. And then he turned back to her.

“Is that all?” It came out as a snarl. The wolf was still too close to the surface.

“Well, you know. How long did you say you’d been in the city, Ren?”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. She might as well have. “Fine,” he said in a barely discernible growl. “If that’s how you want to play this, Kathryn, then fine.”

“That’s how it is, Ren. What I want doesn’t matter. It never has.”

“What about the money?” he asked bluntly.

“What money?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, abruptly tired of this whole charade. “Preston’s money. I’m assuming you get most of it, or at least a big chunk. So who gets it if you die? There’s always a provision in these wills. You have to survive your husband,” he said the two words with deliberate emphasis, “by at least sixty days to inherit. So who inherits if you die?”

Kathryn stared at him as if she’d never even considered the possibility. “It goes to a charitable trust,” she said finally. “An old one set up ages ago by Preston’s grandparents.”

“What about his children from the previous marriage?”

“No. The estate is already split three ways. And the same provision applies to them. Any unclaimed bequest goes to the trust. Besides, Phoebe and Preston Junior like me much better than they ever liked their father.” She smiled as if at a private joke. Ren wasn’t amused.

“I want the name of the estate lawyer. In the meantime, you stay inside until you hear from me.”

“I don’t need to stay inside. Tommy can—”

“You willing to bet Tommy’s life on that, sweetheart? That bullet was a three-thirty-eight. It would go right through Tommy to get to you. I don’t think he’d make it. How about you?”

“Bastard.”

“You bet. That’s why your dear old daddy keeps me around.” He started for the door, more than ready to get the hell out of there. He yanked the door open, crossing the hall to where Tommy stood watching him warily.

After pulling out a business card, Ren handed it to the bodyguard, who took it automatically. “I’ll need the name of the estate attorney. You can leave it on voice mail at that number.”

Then he turned and strode down the hallway, not needing the housekeeper or anyone else to tell him where the front door was.

He didn’t stop until he was outside, buttoning his coat against the cold with angry jerks.

“Well, that went well,” he muttered to himself.

He shook his head in disgust and checked his watch. A cab veered in his direction, but he waved it off. His car was parked down the block, but he needed to move, needed to work off this rage if he was going to be any good to anyone, including himself. If he’d been anywhere but this fucking city, he’d shift and let his wolf run it off. But that wasn’t an option tonight. Maybe he could find a bar somewhere, preferably one with patrons who enjoyed a good brawl. He glanced around, taking in Kathryn’s upscale neighborhood. Not much chance of a good bar fight around here.

He started toward his car, swearing softly. She’d been right about her father, though he’d never admit it. The Alpha hadn’t said it so crudely, but the promise had been there when they spoke on the phone.

Clear this up and welcome to the family, Renjiro.

It was typical Dom politics. Ren hadn’t been idle during his years of exile. He’d built a reputation for himself in Europe. He was well respected, especially among those younger wolves who were tired of the old alphas calling all the shots. Wolves lived a long time, and there were many who had no intention of waiting for Dom or the other alphas to die before striking out on their own.

Dominick Bartek had finally called Ren back to the U.S. precisely because old Avinger had died. He probably thought to bind Ren, and hence his followers, to the status quo by giving him Kathryn, just as he’d promised years ago. That someone was now trying to kill her only made it easier for the Alpha to bring Ren into the picture. Too bad he hadn’t checked with Kathryn first.

Ren sighed and kept moving. Easy for Kathryn to talk about taking her money and walking away from the clan. She was all but gone already. It wasn’t that easy for him. He had family and friends, people who counted on him, and all of them tied to the wolf clans. Whether Kathryn wanted Ren here or not, he’d have to find a way to settle this to Dom’s satisfaction, which meant finding whoever was trying to kill Kathryn and shutting them down.

He beeped his locks open and stepped into the street, his boots sinking into dirty slush. The snow was coming down harder than ever. He really had to get out of this fucking city.

Chapter Six

“Kathryn? Everything all right?”

It was Tommy. Decent, loyal Tommy who was more than half in love with her. Maybe the only person in her life these days whom she could count on completely. Her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away impatiently. This wasn’t like her. She had no room for self-pity. Such weakness had been burned out of her long ago—along with every other useless emotion.

“Yes. Thank you, Tommy,” she said. “I’m just a little tired, I think.” She stood up, automatically brushing her hands down the front of her wool slacks, straightening her sweater. Preston had always hated it when she looked wrinkled. “I was thinking we’d leave for the country tonight after dinner rather than waiting until the full moon. It looks like a storm’s building, and I don’t want to get trapped here in the city.”

Tommy frowned, which was odd. He never disagreed with her on anything. “That Mr. Roesner said you should stay here, Kathryn. I don’t like the guy, but I gotta worry when he says that. Let me talk to him first, make sure it’s safe.”

Kathryn felt the chains of Clanhome tightening around her once again, trying to drag her back in now that Preston was gone. This was only the beginning. Her father had sent Ren first, but he would reach out personally soon. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. But there was no way she could explain all of that to Tommy.

“I’m going to lie down,” she said instead. “Tell Marla not to make a fuss about dinner. I’ll come to the kitchen later.”

* * * *

Kathryn closed the bedroom door behind her. She didn’t bother to undress, just kicked off her shoes and lay down on the big bed, pulling the silken throw up from the foot until it covered her completely. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she closed her eyes, trying not to think of Ren storming into Preston’s office, full of bristling male impatience and throwing off breeding scent like crazy. She’d forgotten how intoxicating an alpha male in his prime could be. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really appreciated it before today. She’d been so young when she left Clanhome, and after their marriage, Preston had never permitted any wolves in the house, not even her father. They made him uneasy, he’d said. More likely frightened, but she’d gone along with it because no one had given her a choice about that either.

She pushed the troubling thoughts out of her mind and tried to relax. She was tired. There’d been so much to do after Preston died, so many people demanding her attention. Just a little rest, that’s all she needed. A little sleep.

* * * *

She woke in a strange bed, muscles aching, her body sore in places… She felt her skin heat with embarrassment, remembering the night before, when Preston had made love to her for the first time.

Love? Is that what it was?

It had felt more like rape. He had stripped her dress away from her, scattering tiny pearl buttons over the thick carpet, pushing her down and shoving himself into her again and again, finally pulling out and spraying his seed all over her naked skin. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect from her wedding night, especially with a human, but it certainly hadn’t been pain and humiliation.

She turned over and fought not to scream as panic flooded her system, her heart pounding, her breath coming in hard gasps. She was chained, bound by a cuff on her ankle that was bolted to the floor near the same bed where Preston had taken her the night before.

She could still smell the blood of her maidenhead, could feel the sticky wetness on the silk sheets beneath her. She tugged at the padded cuff, whimpering in confusion, while Wolf howled within, infuriated at being bound, fighting to break free. She fought the change, frightened of what would happen if she shifted while bound.

Who had done this? Preston? Did he know she was Wolf? Is that why he’d chained her? But why marry her at all then? Thoughts swirled chaotically through her terrified mind, making no sense, bringing no understanding of what was happening to her.

She twisted around as the door snicked open, followed by the sound of soft laughter. Preston stood just inside the room, fully dressed, his hands hidden behind him.

“Calm, little wolf,” he said.

She shivered at the fevered glitter of excitement in his eyes.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Will you change for me, I wonder? What would it take? How much pain before the beast takes over?”

His hand lifted from behind his back, and she screamed.

* * * *

“No!” Kathryn woke with a shout. She sat up quickly, scrambling off the big bed, her legs tangling in the blanket to send her stumbling against the wall before she remembered where she was.

Preston was dead. Dead and buried. And long before that, his aging human body had lost the strength to beat her. Her initial terror had nearly been her undoing that first time, but her wolf had come raging to the surface, knowing nothing but fury at the human who’d dared attack her. She’d shifted at the first kiss of the whip on her back, slipping out of a cuff designed to hold a human ankle, not a wolf’s slender paw.

And then it had been Preston who was screaming, desperate to get out of the room, clawing at the locked door.

He’d tried to bind her only once more and nearly died for his efforts. He’d given up after that. And then, the cancer had struck, an enemy that not even his vast fortune could defeat, though he’d certainly tried. Eventually he’d been forced to his bed, spending the last years of his life wasting away. Ever the dutiful wife, Kathryn had visited him daily, taking her own pleasure from the fury in his icy blue eyes, a fury put there by the certain knowledge that he was trapped in a dying body while she would remain young and healthy for centuries after he was gone.

Kathryn pushed herself away from the wall and stood up, running her hands through her short hair, tugging at it the way she’d seen Ren do so many times. It was his fault, all this excess emotion. She hadn’t thought about that first night with Preston in years, had shut off her feelings in order to survive marriage to a man she despised. But Ren’s return had brought it all back, all those feelings that should have stayed dead. She picked up the throw from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders, wandering over to curl up on the sofa by the window. The snow was still falling. Far below, the city would be shutting down beneath a blanket of white.

She wished Tommy had gone along with her desire to get out of the city early. It would be good to be in the country again, to run as a wolf, free of human concerns, human needs. Wolf was simple. Wolf was free. And for those few hours every month, so was Kathryn.

Chapter Seven

Across the city, Ren shouldered aside his front door, drew off his coat, and thought about the pretty redhead he’d just sent off in a taxi by herself. After the scene with Kathryn, he hadn’t felt like going home or being alone, so he’d stopped by the electronics store and picked up the woman who’d sold him the DVR. They’d gone to dinner, and she’d made it clear she was open for a more personal encounter, but Ren discovered he was no longer interested.

He dropped his mail on the table, threw his keys and cell phone on top of it, and went straight to the bar. Beer wouldn’t be enough tonight. He needed to feel the burn in his gut, something to drown the anger threatening to bubble up every time he thought about Kathryn and her father. And Preston Avinger.

He split the seal on a brand-new decanter of Glenmorangie Single Malt and poured a generous three fingers, neat. With the soothing heat of the twenty-one-year-old scotch sliding down his throat, he took both glass and bottle with him across the room and slumped down in a leather armchair that was too new to be comfortable. He sat facing the tinted expanse of glass overlooking the shorter buildings below and the bay beyond.

Behind the heavy clouds, he could see the moon trying to poke through, its silver light a balm to the wolf within. The full moon was tomorrow, he realized. He’d shoved it to the back of his brain in the shock of seeing Kathryn again. No wonder he was so edgy. Full moon in a strange city without a single decent park. He should probably make the trip out to Clanhome, run the moon there, and pay his respects to Dom. Except he wasn’t feeling much respect for his Alpha these days, and it was a long drive. Maybe Kathryn would let him go with her to the country house she’d talked about.

“Fat chance,” he muttered.

Outside, the falling snow thickened gradually until it hid everything but his own reflection. Ren took a long pull on the scotch and closed his eyes.

Chapter Eight

There were advantages to being a wolf. Strength, long life, amazing recuperative powers and short hangovers. Ren woke the next morning still sitting in front of the window, his last glass of scotch now staining the carpet to one side of the chair, which was a crime. Every bone and muscle ached, and that included the useless muscle in his skull that was drumming with all the rhythm of a two-year-old on Christmas morning.

A handful of aspirin and a hot shower later, he was feeling almost normal. And irritable enough for a visit to Lewis Westgate, Preston Avinger’s estate attorney. Mr. Westgate had been reluctant, until he’d found out Ren was investigating Preston’s widow. After that, Ren had become his new best friend, and they’d agreed to meet late this morning.

Ren’s first thought on entering Westgate’s office was to wonder if the man knew his secretary was a wolf. Her eyes widened first in surprise and then mild arousal when Ren walked through the door, in spite of the wedding ring on her finger. This close to the moon, a wolf’s control over her emotions was always less certain, and Ren politely ignored the indiscretion. He gave her a slight nod of recognition before introducing himself and explaining his presence. As he followed her rather shapely ass into Westgate’s inner office, he decided the woman must be one of Dom’s. Not solely by affiliation, although that was obvious since she was here in the city, but literally one of Dom’s agents put in place to keep tabs on Avinger’s estate. He wondered if Dom knew Kathryn had no intention of sharing her newfound wealth with dear old Dad. Obviously not. Or not yet, anyway.

Ren decided that imparting that bit of information to the Alpha went beyond the purview of his current assignment.

Westgate stood up as Ren entered, walking around his desk to shake hands. Ren reciprocated, tailoring his grip to the other man’s strength. Westgate was a trim man of above-average height, with the slender build of someone who played tennis for exercise. His hair and mustache were both blond and glittered with a distinguished hint of silver beneath the too-bright artificial lights.

“Mr. Roesner, a pleasure. Would you like anything? Coffee, tea? Something stronger?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Nothing for me,” Westgate said to the secretary. His gaze followed her out the door in a way that made Ren feel sleazy, given his own admiring assessment only a few minutes before. He felt even lower when Westgate saw him watching and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Nice, huh?” the lawyer said. “Happily married, though. For now.”

He strolled around his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair to study Ren. “Have a seat, Mr. Roesner. So tell me, why are you investigating the lovely widow Avinger?”

Ren sat, leaning back and crossing his legs to mimic Westgate’s casual pose. “Not investigating her precisely, Westgate. I’m working with the police to find out who wants her dead. That kind of thing usually leads back to the target somehow.”

“What makes you think someone wants her dead?”

Ren found himself momentarily speechless, which was not a common occurrence for him. “Someone shot at her. I’d say that means they want her dead.”

“But they missed.”

He shrugged. “It was a long shot on a cold, windy day.”

“Or maybe it was never intended to hit her.”

Ren frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

“Did you know Kathryn and her bodyguard are lovers? Tommy Nordan—the big gorilla who never leaves her side. He lives in that penthouse with her, never even takes a day off.”

Ren surprised himself by feeling absolutely nothing. Maybe because he was certain it wasn’t true. “Let’s say that’s true,” he said out loud. “I still don’t see how it explains the shooter.”

“It’s all for the press, of course. Brave bodyguard saves lonely widow. Who would question it if she falls in love with him after that? He’s an ex-con. Did time upstate for aggravated assault. Not exactly the kind of husband someone with the Avinger money brings around to charity balls. But if he saves her life, suddenly he’s a hero and his unsavory past is wiped away.”

Ren had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. “Seems like a lot of trouble,” he commented. “I’d think that much money would buy acceptance without all the dramatics.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Westgate said thoughtfully. “Especially these days. Class isn’t what it used to be, is it?” He stood up suddenly. Ren tensed, but the lawyer only walked around his desk to the opposite wall where a small safe was recessed into a built-in shelving unit. “There is another possibility,” he said. “One that might have earned Kathryn some enemies neither you nor I would understand.”

The safe door stood open, and Westgate pulled out a thin plastic case that he opened to extract a DVD. Turning, he held the disc up for Ren’s inspection, then slid it into a player and picked up a remote to turn on the wide-screen monitor hanging on the wall next to the book case.

“I think you’ll find this interesting, Roesner.”

Curious, Ren joined the other man in front of the screen as a video began to play. It was a bedroom with expensive furniture and satin sheets, or maybe silk. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting. A woman was there, pacing back and forth in obvious agitation, hands fisted at her sides, her slender figure obvious, despite the pair of loose sweats she was wearing. The woman stopped abruptly, her hands coming up as her body curled into itself, shoulders rounding, head bowed as if in pain. A low, keening sound filled the room, and she fell to her knees, her back arching so sharply Ren could hear vertebrae popping. He froze in disbelief as he registered what he was seeing. The woman was Wolf, and she was about to shift on camera.

Clearly aware she was being filmed, the woman kept her back turned, concealing her identity as the shift took control of her body. She screamed, her voice filled with anger as well as pain, her body contorting as it took on its new shape, the loose clothing shredding and falling away.

A full moon, Ren thought.

It had to have been the night of a full moon. She’d never have done it otherwise. Not if she had a choice.

“Don’t you recognize her?” Westgate said softly, his eyes glued to the video.

Ren gave the other man a sharp look before studying the video more closely. On-screen, the female wolf spun around and snarled at the camera. Ren’s breath caught in his throat. Kathryn. It was Kathryn. He fought back the howl of rage that threatened to choke him.

“Interesting, don’t you think?” The video froze on Kathryn’s face. “How much do you think the lovely Mrs. Avinger would pay to keep something like this private?”

“She was trapped in that room,” Ren growled, fighting for control.

Westgate gave him a chiding look. “Of course. Look at her, Roesner. She’s an animal. Preston had to deal with this monstrosity every full moon,” he said, lifting his chin to indicate Kathryn’s snarling visage. “Clichéd, I know, but quite true. He was terrified when he discovered what he’d married. But even then, he didn’t divorce her.”

“Why not?” Ren demanded.

Westgate shrugged. “A cynic would say it was the money. And there was a generous prenup, of course, but no court would have held him to it, given the circumstances. But Preston was a very vain man, and Kathryn is quite beautiful. Most of the time, anyway. He loved walking into a room with her at his side and knowing every other man there was watching with envy, wondering what it was like to tap that lovely ass anytime he wanted.”

Ren fisted his hands to avoid strangling the man to death. “Have you shared this”—he gestured at the video—“with anyone else?”

“Oh, no, of course not. It’s not only her reputation at stake, it’s Preston’s, too, and he was a friend. But I thought as long as you’re investigating, your client might find this interesting. I know who you are, Mr. Roesner.” Ren doubted that was true, but Westgate was still talking. “I know you’ve been brought in from out of state to pry into this whole matter, although I don’t know who’s paying you—not yet anyway. I don’t suppose you’d like to share?”

Ren gave him a cold stare.

“No, I didn’t think so. Goes with the job, I suppose. In any event, I’m sure whoever’s paying you is interested in dirt, and this is certainly dirty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Are you saying this is for sale?”

“Everything’s for sale, Roesner. Even you, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Ren held perfectly still, afraid if he moved even the tiniest bit, he’d kill the asshole for sure. “I’ll need proof for my client,” he said, complimenting himself on his calm. “This will do nicely.” He ejected the DVD and dumped it back in the case, slipping the whole thing into his pocket. “How much?”

“That’s a copy, of course,” Westgate said gently.

“Of course. So how much for the original?”

“Well, no need to be greedy, I suppose. On the other hand, Kathryn is now a very wealthy woman, and I’m sure—”

“How much?”

“Ten million cash.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Westgate, no one has that much cash. Ten million electronic.”

“Well. It is quite the video, isn’t it? Ten million electronic, then, to a bank of my choice.” Westgate couldn’t quite conceal his glee that Ren wasn’t dickering over price. The truth was he could have demanded ten times that amount and Ren would have agreed. The little weasel was never going to enjoy a dime of it, anyway.

Ren kept his face carefully blank. Leave the man his delusions. For now. “I’ll have to verify with my client, of course.”

“Naturally,” Westgate murmured.

“You understand we’re purchasing the original and all copies. I trust you’ve been discreet, that there are no copies out of your possession.”

“I’m still being discreet, Roesner,” the lawyer said in a cold voice. “I didn’t need to go to Kathryn first. The press would have paid millions for this video.” He sniffed prissily. “But as I said, there is a matter of loyalty to Preston.”

“Right,” Ren said shortly, feeling unclean just standing next to the scummy bastard. “I’ll be in touch.”

* * * *

On his way through the outer office, the secretary caught his eye. He nodded brusquely and then waited outside, forcing himself to calm down before she appeared a few minutes later.

“Dom brought you in,” she said. It wasn’t a question, which confirmed his earlier assessment. “Listen, Avinger met with someone here right after he got really sick. Not his usual class of person—much rougher around the edges and carrying a gun. I didn’t get a name, but they signed some sort of agreement. Westgate did it up on the computer himself, which is what really made me suspicious. That asshole doesn’t hold his own dick when he pisses. Anyway, the thing is, I never saw the guy again until two days after Avinger died. And now suddenly someone’s shooting at Kathryn.”

Ren eyed her carefully. “Do you have access to the safe in there?” He jerked his head at the office.

“No. There’s a larger safe in a second office where he keeps most of the client documents. That’s the only one I can get into and there’s nothing there. I checked.”

“What about a home safe?”

She frowned. “Maybe.”

“All right, give me his home address, and I’ll pay him a little visit.”

She gave him a vicious grin and said, “I’ll write it down for you. Let’s hope you have to beat the truth out of him.”

Apparently, Westgate hadn’t endeared himself to his secretary either.

Chapter Nine

Ren entered Kathryn’s building from the garage, giving the uniform in the lobby a nod in greeting before stepping into the elevator. He’d driven himself over after a brief stop at his apartment to change into clothes more suitable for the evening he had planned—a turtleneck sweater and black denims, leather jacket and heavy boots. Westgate’s house was across the bay in one of the pricier suburbs of the city and, bad weather or not, Ren wanted to get there tonight. But he had to see Kathryn first.

Marla opened the penthouse door before he could knock, alerted by the doorman downstairs. The housekeeper was still a little twitchy but less nervous of him than she’d been the other night. Maybe because she understood he meant to keep Kathryn alive.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Avinger—” Marla started, but Ren interrupted her.

“Don’t bother. I’ll walk myself back.”

Marla’s protest went unheeded. Tommy was waiting around the corner.

Ren approached the big man carefully, not wanting to make a scene. So far, Tommy and Marla were the only people he’d met in this fucking city who evidenced any loyalty to anyone.

“Tommy,” he said, with a quick nod. “She around?”

“She’s sleeping.”

Ren inhaled, drawing in the essence of Kathryn. She was there, and she was awake. “Not anymore.”

The bodyguard’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he still didn’t move.

“I can’t help her if she won’t talk to me, Tommy.”

Tommy gave a resigned sigh. “She’s in the bedroom suite. Her personal suite,” he clarified. “It’s—”

“I know.” Ren circled past the bodyguard and followed the clear scent down the hall and around the corner to a set of dark red lacquered doors.

Why red? He wondered. Was it something she’d chosen for herself? Was any of this really hers?

He could hear her inside, could smell her awareness of him. He suppressed a groan of mingled desire and frustration, feeling himself harden almost instantly. She was young and female and it was nearly the full moon, a time of hunting and of mating. Ren could feel his wolf revving itself up for battle, heart thumping, blood rushing to muscles and nerves, adrenaline pouring into his system to make him ready to fight, to kill if necessary to claim his mate.

Except she isn’t yours, pal, he reminded himself silently.

The hell she isn’t!

He smiled grimly. Arguing with himself was never a good sign.

He rested his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, fighting for control before knocking softly.

Chapter Ten

Kathryn stared at him over the back of a low sofa on the far side of the room, her eyes wide and pale. She was wrapped in a fringed shawl, and her fingers clutched it in front of her like some sort of shield against him. Her nerves did nothing to calm his, and he realized his situation was doing nothing to ease her stress.

He stepped inside and closed the door, raising his hand, palm forward. “Give me a minute,” he said in a rough voice.

“I can shower,” she said quickly and scrambled to get up. “It might—”

The image of her naked body with warm water streaming all over it kicked the testosterone into an even higher gear, and he groaned out loud. “Gods, no,” he pleaded. “Just give me a minute,” he repeated.

Get it together, Roesner. You’re better than this.

He was usually. But this was Kathryn.

“You should be at Clanhome,” he said in a low voice.

She stiffened, her eyes sparking silver with defiance. “So my father could dangle me as a prize for his wolves? No, thank you. I’ll take my chances.”

Ren stared at her through half-lidded eyes and felt his lips draw back. “I’m a wolf, too,” he reminded her.

“Well, but you’re…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away.

“I’m what, Kathryn?” he growled. It came out as a low rumble of sound, and he heard her heart begin to race, saw a sheen of sweat pop out over her succulent upper lip, her mouth open as her breath shallowed out and she began to pant.

Ren felt his own gut tighten, his cock pressing hard and heavy against the stiff fabric of his jeans. He started toward her, a slow predatory glide, dropping his leather jacket behind him with a shrug.

Kathryn stood there watching him come, seeming frozen beneath his heated gaze. She licked her lips nervously, and he followed the path of her tongue, seeing it in slow motion as it painted first her full upper lip and then the lower, leaving a wet gleam behind.

Ren circled the couch and reached out for her, tugging the shawl away from her clutching fingers and tossing it to the side, sliding his hand over the curve of one hip and drawing her closer.

“Ren,” she whispered.

“Kathryn,” he drawled and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her, her arousal, her youth, her fertility. He growled and tightened his hold.

“Ren!” Kathryn gasped. She shoved a hand between them, pushing against his chest. She didn’t have the strength to stop him, if he didn’t want to be stopped. She had to know that. But she also knew he’d stop anyway.

Ren froze, lifting his head to meet her stricken gaze.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, almost in tears. “It’s not, I don’t know. I mean…”

“What?” Ren demanded. “What is it, Kathryn?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I don’t know who I am anymore!”

Ren closed his eyes. He started to draw a breath but changed his mind. His head was already clouded with the scent of her, and this was hard enough already. He stepped back and spun away. Glancing around, he spotted a wet bar against one wall and headed that way. He found an open bottle of scotch and poured himself a healthy shot. It wasn’t Glenmorangie, but it was smooth and heady, and it burned all the way down.

The searing taste of the scotch dulled his senses somewhat, enough that he could face her again. She’d wrapped herself in that stupid shawl again, holding it tight across her breasts. She rubbed her cheeks, wiping away tears.

“Why are you here, Ren?” she asked dully.

He drained the rest of his scotch and forced himself to set the crystal tumbler down without a sound. The discipline helped center him, so when he answered, he was very nearly calm. “I visited Lewis Westgate this morning.”

“Lucky you,” she said sarcastically.

“You don’t like him?”

“He’s a worm who started hitting on me five minutes after Preston was dead. Hell, he didn’t even wait until Preston was dead, if you want the truth. He’s been rubbing his skinny little dick against my ass every chance he gets for years.” She closed her mouth quickly on the crude words. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. He wants to sell you this.” He tossed the case gently from across the room.

She caught it and turned it over curiously. Her face blanched when she saw Preston’s label on it. “Did he say where he got it?” She sounded like she was having trouble breathing, and Ren started across the room, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him, her gray eyes boring twin holes into his head. “Did you watch it, Ren?”

He regarded her curiously. Her reaction seemed out of sync with what he’d seen on the disc. Granted, it wasn’t something a wolf wanted broadcast, but…

“No,” he said slowly. “Or not all of it, anyway. Westgate showed it to me in his office. I saw three minutes, maybe less. Enough to know it’s not something you want ending up on YouTube.”

Her face heated with embarrassment, and she turned away from him. “I knew there was one missing—”

“One?” he asked in disbelief. “There’s more of these? How many times did that bastard lock you up for the full moon?”

“That’s what’s on here?” she asked, her voice filled with relief.

Ren jerked back in surprise, then squinted at her curiously. “What did you think was on there, Kathryn?”

She refused to meet his gaze, instead standing and crossing the thick carpet to the fireplace. She opened the case and snapped the disc in half. Ren saw what she was about to do and crossed the room in three quick strides, catching the disc before it fell.

“Don’t throw that in there. Christ, have you completely lost your sense of smell?”

Kathryn gave him a dirty look. “Sorry,” she snapped, “I’m not up on the latest data destruction. But I’m sure you are.”

“You have a shredder? Never mind,” he added when she looked around vaguely. “I’ll take care of it.”

Her hand snapped out, grabbing hold of the two pieces of DVD before he could slip them into his coat. Her eyes met his, filled with distrust.

“Kathryn,” he said evenly, “I’ll destroy it for you.” He met her gaze, unflinching, until she released the disc and turned away. “You never answered my question,” he said.

Kathryn sat down on the sofa, tucking her feet up under herself, as if she was cold. “What question, Ren?” she asked wearily.

“What did you think was on that disc?”

She ignored him, staring out the window instead. He shook his head in frustration. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me, so you might as well come out with it.”

“What does it matter what I thought?”

“Because someone’s trying to kill you,” he said, using his most patronizing tone, “and I’m trying to stop them. Which means I need to know if there’s a reason someone wants you dead. Or at least a reason I don’t know about.”

She tossed a scathing glance his way and huddled deeper into the cushions.

“Kathryn,” he said sharply, losing patience.

Her deep sigh was clearly audible, even if he hadn’t seen her shoulders move. “Is that the original?”

Ren ground his teeth at her stubbornness but said, “No. Westlake’s selling me the original for ten million.”

She turned around then, eyes wide with surprise. “You’re paying him?”

“Of course not. But he thinks I am.”

“Oh.” She sighed again. “That should make my father happy.”

Ren raised his eyes heavenward in a mute plea for pity.

“Fine,” she snarled. “I told you Preston knew I was Wolf when he married me. That’s why he married me. He hated getting old, hated the weakening of his body, his mind, and especially hated knowing once he was gone he couldn’t control the Avinger money any longer.” She shrugged. “He thought it was like all those werewolf movies. He wanted me to bite him so he could become a wolf, too, and live forever.”

Ren made a disbelieving noise.

“I know,” Kathryn agreed. “And I tried to tell him it didn’t work that way, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

“Surely, your father didn’t—”

“Yeah. Surely my father, Alpha of the North American wolves, wouldn’t mislead a human, right, Ren? Especially not when he was getting a big chunk of Avinger stock in return.” She stood again and paced over to the window, one hand reaching out to the glass as if to touch the falling snow beyond it. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Dom ever actually told Preston I could change him. Not in so many words. I think he just let Preston believe what he wanted to believe and didn’t bother correcting him.”

“Fantastic,” Ren said in disgust, regretting he’d ever agreed to step back into the mess that was Dom Bartek’s territory. “So what’s that got to do with the DVD?” he persisted. The look she gave him confirmed his suspicion that Kathryn had hoped to derail him from that line of query. He quirked his eyebrows at her in question.

“Preston was quite the little voyeur. He liked to take pictures. I wanted to post an anonymous notice in his office building, warning the female employees not to use the restrooms. Filthy pervert probably had cameras built into the walls.”

“And?” Ren asked, not liking where this was going.

“And the first morning I was here, the morning after he all but raped me on our wedding night—”

“Goddamn it!” Ren roared and swung about instantly as Tommy opened the door.

The bodyguard took in the scene quickly, the distance between Kathryn and Ren, her grim face, his anger. “Kathryn?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Tommy. Ren’s angry at someone else, not me. Aren’t you, Ren?” She said the last in a tiny voice that broke his heart.

“Hell, yes,” he said viciously. “I’d kill the bastard if he wasn’t dead already.”

Tommy’s face lit up with understanding, and he nodded soberly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” He gave Ren an even look and backed out the door before closing it.

Ren ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the thick strands. “Goddamn it, Kathryn.”

She eyed him dispassionately. “It gets better. Preston was full of all sorts of misconceptions about wolves, but he was right about one thing. Stress brings out our wolf. When the trauma of my first sexual experience wasn’t enough, he decided to let his inner sadist out to play.”

Ren stared at her in disbelief. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t dare.”

“He did. And it worked, too. Unfortunately for Preston, my wolf was more than happy to play with the stupid human.”

“Jesus Christ, did you call your father?”

“I did,” she said with fake good cheer, “and I told him the whole thing, all the sordid, embarrassing details. He thought it uproariously funny, didn’t understand why I wasn’t laughing.”

“That fucker,” he swore, but inside he was sick. How had Dom fallen so far without anyone noticing? Was that the real reason he and the others had been kept so far away all these years? So they wouldn’t see what their Alpha had become?

“Yes, well,” Kathryn continued, “Preston never tried that particular trick again. Not that he gave up entirely, mind you. What you have there”—she gestured with her chin at the pieces of disc tucked away in Ren’s jacket pocket—“that’s the first time he tried to catch me on a full moon. He had that room built specially, with silver in the walls, the ceiling, the door. The door handle was solid silver. No price too high for Preston. He drugged me at breakfast and waited for the moon to rise, then said he’d let me out if I agreed to bite him.”

“What’d you do?”

“I bit him. More precisely, I nearly tore his arm off.”

“Now that I’d pay to see.”

She flashed him a brief smile, a smile he’d waited ten years to see. “I hired Tommy right after that. He’s been with me ever since.”

“Why not just divorce him? Or him, you?”

She shrugged. “I can’t speak for Preston, but I suspect he was afraid of what my father would do to him. He’d seen what I could do, and I was just a woman. Imagine a full-grown male and a powerful Alpha to boot. For my part, I had nowhere to go. I sure as hell wasn’t going back to Clanhome so my father could raffle me off to the next highest bidder. Besides, if I stuck it out five years, the prenup gave me a whole lot of money. Enough to make a life for myself far away from my father and everyone else. But then, Preston became ill and there was no reason to leave at all. If anything, it gave me endless pleasure to stay, to remind him every day that I was alive and he would soon be dead.”

Ren drew a deep breath. “Are there any other videos I should know about?”

“No,” she said shortly. “Or at least I don’t think so. He only managed to catch my wolf on camera those two times, and I already destroyed the other disc. After that stunt with the silver room, Tommy took me out to the country house every full moon, and I shifted in the woods. I can’t speak for any nude shower scenes, though.”

She tried to say it lightly, but Ren heard the misery in her voice.

“Kathryn,” he said intently and waited until she turned to look at him. She was biting her lip nervously, and Ren prayed she wouldn’t draw blood. His control was already on the ragged edge, although Kathryn appeared completely unaware of how close he really was. She seemed to have lost all of her instincts when it came to dealing with other wolves. “Why didn’t you call me?” he ground out. “I would have come for you.”

“I didn’t know where you were, Ren,” she explained simply. “And besides, after my father, I didn’t think I could trust anyone. Not even you.”

Ren ran his hands back through his hair again, nearly tearing it from his head. “All right,” he said. “All right. I’ll get the disc back and take care of Westgate. You stay right here.”

Her head came up, eyes flashing with stubborn anger, and he rounded on her tightly. “I have enough to worry about with this scumbag lawyer of yours,” he snarled. “The last thing I need is you running around with a big target on your back so whoever the fuck is trying to kill you can get a second shot. It’s a fucking blizzard out there, anyway. So stay the hell inside until I tell you it’s goddamn safe!” His voice had risen to a shout by the time he finished, and he didn’t wait for her to respond. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it rattled in its frame. Tommy was waiting, looking a little worried.

“She doesn’t go anywhere, Tommy, you got that? Nowhere. I don’t care if you have to—” He thought about Kathryn trapped in a silver-lined room and didn’t finish the sentence. “Keep her here, Tommy. Keep her safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Chapter Eleven

It took him nearly three hours to get to Westgate’s house, which was twice as long as it should have taken. The weather had closed in, shutting down roads and snarling traffic throughout the area. The snowplows were out, but they were focusing on the big interstate and main roadways. Ren had stuck to the cleared routes as long as he could, but eventually he’d been forced onto the narrow back roads leading to the enclave of expensive homes where the lawyer lived. These roads were plowed, too—the rich could hire their own—but they were slick with the still-falling snow.

Not that Ren minded. He loved to drive, and the CL600 was a sweet car. He took taxis for the most part in town because what cars did in this damn city wasn’t really driving anyway. But out here, even with the snow piled several feet high all around, it was a thrill. Maybe even more so. The dangerous conditions only added to the high of speeding down the gloomy, empty roads going a good fifty miles over the limit.

The Mercedes came to a sliding stop on the street outside Westgate’s house. There was a wall, naturally. Men like Westgate would want the facade of exclusivity that a wall provided, keeping the menials and lowlifes away from his perfectly manicured stretch of lawn, which was an unbroken blanket of white as Ren studied it through the wrought-iron gate.

He considered using the intercom but decided he’d give Westgate a little thrill of his own instead. A few minutes’ work and the gate released, sliding open silently on well-oiled rails. Ren pushed it closed behind him. One wanted to be polite, after all. He grinned and started up the snow-covered drive, which was only marginally clearer than the yard. But then that was why he’d changed clothes. His boots provided solid footing even on the slick snow.

He walked by the big front window on his way to the door and could see Westgate inside watching television. The rest of the house was dark, but Ren waited a few minutes, listening and scenting the area before ringing the doorbell. As far as he could tell, the lawyer was home alone tonight.

Westgate answered the door himself, looking surprised and not altogether happy to see Ren on his front porch.

“Mr. Roesner, how…” He looked over Ren’s shoulder, clearly wondering how he’d gotten through the locked gate.

“Your drive wasn’t cleared,” Ren said. “I parked on the street and walked up.” When Westgate made no move to invite him in, Ren added, “My client’s in a hurry.”

“Oh, well, yes, of course. But I—I wasn’t expecting—”

“It’s a bit cold out here, Westgate.” Ren wasn’t really cold, but the lawyer reacted predictably. He stepped out of the doorway and, ever the good host, invited Ren inside.

“My wife is out of town, and the housekeeper went home early. I’m afraid—”

“This isn’t a social visit,” Ren said, cutting him off. “My client agreed to your terms. So let’s get this done.”

Westgate was clearly flustered, not used to being ordered around in his own home or probably anywhere else. His eyes wandered to the slender briefcase in Ren’s left hand.

“Laptop,” Ren explained. “Modified satellite uplink, two-fifty-six bit encryption. You tell me the bank, and I can have your money transferred and the deposit confirmed in real time.”

Which was bunch of crap, but Ren was counting on Westgate not knowing that.

The lawyer nodded and said, “Let me see.”

And Ren knew he had him.

* * * *

Ren set the case on the desk in what he assumed was Westgate’s home office. The whole room was done in a fussy French provincial style not to Ren’s taste, but then he wasn’t here for the decor.

“Let’s see the disc first.”

The lawyer went over to a tall media cabinet and opened a door to reveal an inset safe. Shielding the keypad with his body, he entered a six-digit combination, reached inside, and withdrew a single DVD case.

“The original,” he said, handing it to Ren. “The other was the only copy.”

Ren popped the case and slipped the DVD into his computer. He pulled up the origination data first to verify that this was indeed an original, and not a copy, and then took a quick look at the video itself. Satisfied, he turned to face Westgate.

“Name your bank.”

The other man straightened from where he’d been bent over writing on a notepad, ripped off the sheet, and handed it to Ren. On it was a bank name and account number. It was a matter of a few minutes and a few more keystrokes, and Ren had, to all appearances, transferred the sum of ten million dollars.

“Your confirmation,” he said and spun the computer around for Westgate to copy the pertinent data while Ren eyed the open safe behind him, verifying the absence of any further discs or, for that matter, a weapon. Not that he thought Westgate had the balls to use one.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” the lawyer said, folding the paper and sliding it under his desk pad. “Tell your client—”

“Let’s not pretend this is anything but what it is.” Ren snapped the briefcase shut, then turned around, pulling himself up to his full height and letting a little of the wolf show in his eyes. “I don’t trust you, Westgate. You’re the kind of man who’d take advantage of a woman for money, which pretty much makes you the scum of the earth in my estimation. Unfortunately, my client wants this clean, so you’ve got to be breathing when I walk out of here tonight.”

Westgate’s smug grin faded, and he backed up, putting the desk between him and Ren. “This was business, Roesner, and I only made the one copy. I didn’t want that video getting out any more than you do.” He was sweating. Ren could smell it.

“Besides,” Westgate continued. “I’ve never told a soul what’s on that disc. Preston only gave it to me in the first place so I could see for myself, so I’d understand about Edmonds, about the silver—” Westgate paled visibly and his mouth snapped shut.

“What was that?” Ren asked softly, taking a single step closer to the desk. Westgate backed up until the windowsill bit into his thighs.

“Nothing. That is, nothing important. You’ve got what you came for. Now I think—” He gave a high-pitched squeak as Ren suddenly appeared right next to him.

“There’s something else you want to tell me, isn’t there?” Ren crooned. He grabbed Westgate, jerking him away from the window and stepping around behind him to wrap an arm around his neck. Slapping a hand over the lawyer’s mouth, Ren let his claws run out on his other hand and stroked gently along the terrified man’s jaw and down to his neck. “Something about the person trying to kill Kathryn, isn’t that right?” He pushed hard enough to dimple the skin, making certain Westgate could feel it, but using only the backs of his claws. He didn’t want to draw blood, didn’t want any evidence of his presence beyond Westgate’s hysterical memories, which no rational person would ever believe.

Westgate squealed beneath Ren’s grip and nodded frantically, sucking in a gasp of air when Ren lifted his hand. “You’re one of them,” the human whispered in a voice hoarse with horror. When he looked up, there were tears mingled with the sweat pouring off his brow. “I didn’t believe it when I saw her, but you’re one of them, too.”

“Let’s not waste time on the obvious. Who’s trying to kill Kathryn and why?”

“I had nothing to do with—” He screamed as Ren shifted a little further into Wolf, letting his jaw lengthen, cracking it wide open to reveal sharp, white fangs. “Edmonds,” Westgate shrieked. “Please, God, his name is Gerald Edmonds. I don’t know where Preston found him. I swear I don’t. He had me draw up the contract and told me to call Edmonds after he died.”

Ren smelled the sharp, bitter scent of urine and released Westgate, steeping away in disgust as he forced his face back into its human aspect. “Where’s the contract?” he growled.

“There,” Westgate gestured desperately. “It’s right there in the safe.”

“Get it.”

Westgate scurried over to the safe, his hands trembling so hard he had trouble picking up the envelope before handing it to Ren.

It was an unsealed manila mailer, no letterhead, no return address, nothing at all on the outside.

“What about the money?” Ren asked, turning the envelope over in his hand. “How does Edmonds get paid?”

The lawyer pressed himself against the wall and began sidling toward the door, clearly thinking to escape. “Escrow account,” he wheezed, rubbing his throat. “It’s all there.”

Ren flipped open the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper. Reading over the documents quickly, he raised his gaze, pinning the lawyer in place.

“You know what this says?”

“Yes,” Westgate said, nodding vigorously.

“Why?”

The man wasn’t stupid enough to pretend he didn’t understand the question. “It enraged him to think she would live forever, enjoying his money.” He swallowed nervously, looked around for something to drink, glanced at Ren and clearly thought better of it. “I only met Edmonds that once, and I never talked to him again. I left a message on his machine after Preston died. The money’s already in escrow. That’s all I know.”

Ren took a step closer, towering over the terrified man. “You know, Westgate,” he said. “I believe you.”

* * * *

Ren closed the front door behind him carefully. Westgate had expected to die. Ren had seen it in his eyes when he’d taken hold of him that last time. And if it had been up to Ren, that’s what would have happened, too. That scum had tried to kill Kathryn…or close enough. But Ren had told the truth when he’d said his client wanted the lawyer left alive. Bad enough someone was trying to kill Kathryn, even worse the killer was using silver bullets, although so far the police didn’t know that. But the last thing Dom wanted, at this point, was Preston Avinger’s lawyer turning up dead so soon after Avinger’s own death. So Ren had to settle for knocking the guy out. He’d used a blood choke hold, which left no evidence, but had dropped Westgate to the floor like a pile of wet rags. Stinking wet rags, to be precise.

Besides, giving the cops documentation that implicated Avinger and Westgate both in the attempt on Kathryn’s life would help close the case for the human authorities. They might keep looking for Edmonds, but they’d never find him. Not if Ren had anything to say about it.

He stepped off the porch into the snow and pulled out his cell phone, punching buttons as he walked down the driveway.

“Maietta,” the police detective said, answering.

“Detective,” Ren said, pulling the gate open and stepping through to the street. “Renjiro Roesner, here. I have a name for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Lewis Westgate.”

“Avinger’s estate lawyer.”

“You know him.”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to run an investigation, Roesner. We interviewed him the day after the funeral. Probably for the same reason you did. So why are you bringing me his name?”

“Lewis has been a very bad boy,” Ren said. He beeped open the locks on his Mercedes and slipped inside, turning the key and bringing the engine to life with a smooth purr of sound. “Preston Avinger hired someone to kill his wife, or more precisely, his widow. And Lewis Westgate helped him. Apparently the old man didn’t want Kathryn to get any of his money.”

“Jesus, that’s cold.”

“Yeah, well, by all accounts, Avinger was a pretty cold guy.”

“How does Westgate come into it?”

“He drew up the contract. He also set up an escrow account to pay the killer. It went active the minute Avinger died.”

“Can you prove it?”

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I couldn’t. I’m outside the city right now, but I’ll messenger the documents over when I get back. You might want to move fast on Westgate, though. He strikes me as a runner.”

“Where’d you get this stuff?”

“Let’s just say certain parties were motivated to share.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that. And please don’t feel you need to explain. Will you be around if I have questions?”

“Probably not,” Ren said and heard Maietta sigh.

“I take it these mysterious documents of yours are pretty conclusive.”

“You could say that.”

“Fine,” the detective said in a resigned voice. “No offense, Roesner, but I hope we never see each other again.”

“None taken, Detective. And the feeling’s mutual.”

Ren disconnected and shoved his car into gear. He had to get back to the city and messenger the docs over to the cops—after making copies for himself, of course. And then, the real hunt would begin. Westgate was taken care of. The cops would see to that. But the killer was still out there.

Chapter Twelve

On his way back to the city, he called Paul Jorgens, his former commander at Clanhome and Dom Bartek’s head of security.

“Gerry Edmonds?” Jorgens said. “Fuck me, Roesner, where’d you hear that name?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a bounty hunter. If he’s in town, it’s bad news. What’s this…ah, shit, is that who’s after Kathryn? Damn it, Ren, she’s got no one with her. I’ll send—”

“She’s got me.”

“No offense, but that might not be enough. Dom—”

“I’m all she’s got. Let’s hope it is enough.”

He disconnected and almost threw the phone onto the seat next to him, catching it in his fingers at the last minute when it started ringing.

“Yeah.”

“Roesner, thank God. She’s gone. She was supposed to be taking a nap. I swear I was right outside, but when I went to check—”

“Slow down, Tommy.”

“Kathryn’s gone. Probably to the country house. She must’ve gone down the back stairs. She hates—”

Ren slammed his fist against the steering wheel and cursed loudly.

Tommy was still talking, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s the full moon tonight.”

“Give me the damn address,” Ren said through his teeth.

Tommy started to rattle off an address, but Ren stopped him. “Hold on, hold on.” He punched up his GPS. “Okay. Say it again.”

He entered the address, watched the map come up, and threw the phone down, freeing both hands for a sliding one-eighty-degree turn on the ice-slicked road. The tires spun uselessly for a few tense seconds before finally digging in as the Mercedes leaped forward.

Ren picked up the phone again. “This isn’t good, Tommy. I’ve got a name on the shooter who’s after her, and he won’t be stopped by a little weather. Look—” He paused as the GPS started talking to him, giving him directions to Kathryn’s country house. He caught the sign for his next turn barely sticking up out of the snowdrift and made the turn one-handed, leaving a fan of tire marks behind.

“I’m already across the bay and heading after her. How long do you think she’s been gone?”

“Can’t be more than an hour, but, Roesner, in this weather—I mean, she hardly ever drives. She took the four-wheel at least, but—”

“Her cell?”

“She must’ve turned it off. No signal.”

“Perfect. Look, it’ll be dark by the time I get there, especially with this storm. I’ll call you when I know something. But, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“It might be a while, I mean…” He couldn’t make himself come right out and say it to a human. It might be a while because the moon was only hours away from full and Ren would soon lose both the desire and the ability to use a cell phone.

“I understand,” Tommy said quickly. “Do I need to call anyone? The cops?”

“Absolutely not. You call no one, Tommy. Especially not the cops. If anyone asks, she’s asleep.”

Ren hung up and dropped the phone on the seat, freeing the fingers of his right hand to rake his hair back ruthlessly. Fucking Kathryn couldn’t stay put for one stinking day even with a seasoned wolf hunter on her tail.

He pressed his foot to the floor and felt the Mercedes respond.

Chapter Thirteen

Ren skidded to a halt, barely missing the wide front porch. Snow was piled deep in the yard, and Kathryn’s big Land Rover was parked out front. Ren barely glanced at it as he walked by. He could feel the moon climbing the night sky, invisible behind the thick clouds. The need to change burned in his veins and gnawed at his muscles as Wolf clawed his flesh, demanding to be set free.

The door was unlocked, and he pushed it open slowly, breathing through his mouth, trying not to drown in the overwhelming scent of Kathryn that filled the air here. There were wet footprints on the floor, boots first, with bare feet tracked through as she’d stripped away her clothes. They were all over the place, jacket, boots, pants, and undergarments scattered in her urgency to shift.

He threw back his head and drew a deep breath into his lungs. And Wolf howled.

Ren fought to control the change as he stripped away his own clothing, but her scent was everywhere now, filling his nostrils, inflaming his senses, hardening his cock. In moments he was naked, streaking back outside, barely managing to close the door behind him before Wolf took over. He slammed to the ground, falling to all fours as his body took on its new shape. Tendons screamed and bones groaned as they were forced to shift. Smooth skin became sleek fur, onyx claws curled from his fingers, and his mouth filled with gleaming, sharp teeth.

He was allowed only seconds to recover, lying on the ground, his lungs gasping for air. And then he was forced to his feet, snarling as Wolf urged him to run, to find her, to claim his mate.

He started slowly, searching for the latest trail amid the drowning scent of Kathryn, picking up speed as he narrowed his search. The snow was deep here, covering the forest floor, drifting high against the trees, but Wolf’s body was created for this. Wide paws skimmed over the snow, distributing his weight so perfectly that his passage left only the barest of impressions, as though he weighed a fraction of his two hundred and fifty pounds.

Kathryn’s scent was easy to follow now. Comfortable in the familiar surroundings, unaware of the danger stalking her, she was making no attempt to hide. He raced after her, nose to the ground. Wolf was single-minded in his pursuit, paying little attention to anything else, ignoring the scurry of small animals scattering in his path, the squeal of a rabbit trapped in the bare hulk of a lightning-struck tree.

A faint, unpleasant scent wrinkled his snout, the familiar stench of humanity and the city. Wolf shook his head, trying to blow it away, intent on finding her. The need to focus on his mate, to follow her trail, was an ache driving him to find her, to take her.

But Ren was more than Wolf. He forced Wolf to slow, to turn aside and follow the greasy smell to its source—a lone truck parked on a narrow fire road barely wide enough to accommodate it. Wolf whined as he circled the vehicle, feeling the warmth from the tires, hearing the ticks of the cooling engine. He sniffed around the passenger compartment then turned to lift his head and stare into the woods where the scent led. Human sweat, the chemical smell of the truck’s leather seats, and the biting stench of oil and gunpowder.

It was the hunter.

Wolf howled and took off, urgently following the smell of danger now, tracking the hunter, the one who would harm his mate. The hunter had no paws to dance along the snow, but he wore snowshoes, moving over the dense powder easily and leaving a trail Wolf could have followed even without his nose.

The trees thickened as he ran deeper into the forest, the full moon still trapped behind the clouds, the woods dark, sounds of small prey muffled by snow. Owls fluttered overhead, resenting Wolf’s intrusion and that of the hunter he followed, hooting nervously in the early night of winter. Wolf was aware of all of these things on a subconscious level, filing them away as the normal sounds of the forest, shutting them out to concentrate on the only thing that mattered—stopping the hunter before he found the female.

Abruptly, the trail altered as the hunter crossed her path and her delicious scent was soiled by the hunter’s human stink. Wolf’s lips drew back, baring his fangs in a feral snarl. He threw his head back, stretching out his long throat to howl a warning to his mate. Deep inside Wolf, Ren wondered if Kathryn would understand the meaning of Wolf’s warning howl, that she should run as far and as fast as she could.

Wolf lowered his body to the ground and ran, belly skimming the snow as he raced beneath low-hanging branches, his long legs stretching out to leap effortlessly over fallen trees and frozen streams without breaking stride. Around him the forest barely registered his passing, a whisper of movement, the passage of clouds over the pale moon.

A tiny click gave the hunter away. Wolf slowed from his headlong charge, flattening to the ground as he crept closer. The human had raised his lethal weapon and was holding it steady, aiming for something in the distance, something Wolf couldn’t see. Wolf howled, and the hunter swung toward him in a practiced sweep, sighting and firing. The bullet was nearly silent, a dull thwack of sound in the snow-dampened forest, a whisper of heat past Wolf’s flank as he became no more than a shadow in the darkness.

The hunter lowered his rifle and stilled, and Wolf knew this was a knowledgeable enemy. He was no fool to think Wolf little more than one of his lesser cousins. The female, dulled by her years among the humans, would be an easy target. Wolf was not.

Crouched low, the skin on his belly shrinking away from the freezing snow, Wolf crept forward, nose in the air, following the hunter’s unmistakable stink. He froze briefly as he scented the female nearby. He wanted to whine with fear for her, hoping she would recognize the danger of this hunter and stay far away. But he remained silent, the hunter too close. He could hear the hunter’s breathing now, could smell the fear-sweat the human was unable to control.

The hunter moved, a slight shifting of his weapon. In the thick night, his winter-white camo blended into the snow-covered trees. But Wolf’s eyes saw him clearly. Still, this hunter was smart, and Wolf crept slowly, his footfalls soft on the piled snow, gliding through the trees until the hunter’s back was before him.

The human turned as Wolf launched himself. The rifle came up. Wolf heard the click of the trigger mechanism, and then he was on the human, teeth tearing, claws rending flesh. The gun fired too close to Wolf’s sensitive ear, and he howled in pain and anger, riding the hunter to the ground, digging for his vulnerable throat.

The hunter tucked in his chin, wrapping one bearlike arm around Wolf and squeezing, his other hand scrabbling at his own clothing. Wolf felt the cold metal against his belly and knew what it meant. Abandoning his attempts to reach the hunter’s throat, Wolf dug his fangs into the thick arm, finding blood and muscle through the layers of clothing. This wolf had a brain. The hunter screamed as his white snowsuit ran with red, as Wolf’s teeth met and cracked through bone.

In his pain, the hunter forgot to protect his neck, and Wolf lunged, finding vulnerable flesh, biting down, feeling the crunch of cartilage as the throat gave way, the rush of air escaping from the lungs, the chest heaving, no longer able to draw a new breath.

Wolf twisted his head in a final tearing movement and jumped away, feeling the scrape of a knife blade on the bone of his foreleg. He snarled in fury and backed off, watching, but the hunter’s heartbeat slowed in his chest and already Wolf could smell the taint of death.

A frightened howl rose over the woods, and deep inside Wolf, Ren turned, raising his snout to the air and scenting…Kathryn. He sent his own cry floating up over the trees and let instinct take over. Ren was gone. Once again there was only Wolf.

* * * *

Wolf raced through the forest, following her scent, sensing her fear and her need. He leaped through the trees into a clearing and there she was, the moon breaking through to gleam off her silver fur as she backed away from him, her teeth bared in warning. Wolf snarled. She was his. He had fought the battles, shed his blood.

The female cowered beneath a snow-heavy tree, her scent driving him nearly mad as she shivered in the grip of her body’s demands as much as her fear.

Wolf approached slowly, lifting one paw at a time. He made no attempt to staunch his bleeding, to lick it clean or stop the flow. It was proof of his fitness to claim her, that he had defeated her enemy and still stood. The female backed up as far as she could, watching him with eyes gone silver with fear, with anticipation, with a hunger of her own.

Wolf began a low, rumbling growl, meant to soothe, to reassure. She cocked her head at him curiously. And he took another step.

She ran.

Wolf howled furiously and followed, pursuing her through the trees, catching glimpses of her silver coat. But he knew where she’d go. The female had been too long among the humans. She thought like they did. She would run for the only safety she knew. The house with its fences and gates, its doors and locks. Deep inside Wolf, Ren smiled.

Chapter Fourteen

Ren let Kathryn get well ahead of him, giving her time, not wanting to frighten her into doing something foolish. He raced into the yard to see the door slam shut, to hear the locks click into place. She had lived with humans too long if she thought a locked door would keep him out.

He loped up onto the porch and changed, giving his body a few moments to adjust to his human form. His leg throbbed where the knife had cut him, but he barely felt it, his heart pumping with victory over his enemy, with his pursuit of Kathryn, his mate whether she knew it or not. Coming down off the adrenaline high, his sweat-slicked skin shivered in the cold, despite the clouds of steam rolling off his body. He shook his head once, and again, then took a single step back and side-kicked the front door off its hinges.

He heard Kathryn’s high-pitched scream of surprise, followed by the pounding of bare feet on the wooden floor upstairs. A door slammed loudly as he strode into the large living room and headed for the stairway, taking the time to find his pants and drag them up his bare legs, using his discarded T-shirt to wipe away the worst of the blood from his face and neck. Wolf knew only his hunger, the need to claim the female, to mate. Ren wanted her every bit as badly as Wolf did, but not for a quick joining. He wanted to take her and keep her. Which meant he had to first prove she had no reason to be afraid of him.

Chapter Fifteen

Kathryn pressed her back against the wall, as far from the door as she could get. Her mind was filled with images of the hunt, of Ren, ferocious in his wolf form, black fur bristling in the cold, the tips silvered by moonlight to match the gleam in his black eyes. He’d smelled of the hunt and of lust, his muzzle stained with the blood of the human he’d killed to protect her, the hunter who’d wanted her dead.

Her wolf had wanted to surrender to him, to stretch out her neck and lick away the blood of their vanquished enemy, to slide her belly across the cold snow and submit. But Kathryn had never known the lust of a wolf, only a man. And what she knew was tainted with pain and disgust. So she’d run.

She could hear Ren coming up the stairs, his footfalls heavy and even. She was naked, her skin pebbling with cold, trembling uncontrollably with equal parts of fear and desire. The door opened slowly, so slowly, she found herself craning her neck to see who stood there, even though it could only be him. She jerked back as his broad shoulders filled the doorway, his chest heaving with effort, blood still staining his human form, despite his obvious efforts to clean up.

His eyes were heavy, half-lidded beneath thick lashes as he scanned the room with a lazy, predatory gaze. When he found her, his hungry eyes swept over her from head to toe, and a small smile creased his hard mouth.

“Kathryn,” he growled.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, pressing herself harder against the wall as if she could escape through the wood and plaster somehow. And yet a part of her didn’t want to escape. A part of her wanted to run across the room and throw herself into his arms, to press her breasts against his firm chest, to open herself and let him…

“Kathryn,” Ren crooned, “I know you want this, want me. I can smell your need.”

She gasped. “Don’t say things like that!”

Ren laughed, low and seductive, as he came slowly closer. “Don’t you want me, Kathryn?”

“Yes,” she whispered desperately. “I want you to—” She covered her mouth with her fingers, shocked at herself.

“What?” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”

He was so close. She could feel the brush of his breath washing over her skin, could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. And, oh, God, she could feel his desire for her, his cock hard and rampant with wanting, pressing against the heavy denim of his jeans.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Kathryn.”

“I’m not. Not really. It’s just…”

“What, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“I’m afraid of this. I’ve never mated as a wolf. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong, that you’ll—”

He held her then, his arms hard and strong, letting her feel the beat of his heart, the slickness of the blood on his skin, the firm shaft of his erection pressing against her belly through the rough cloth.

“You are Wolf, sweet Kathryn. You may have been exiled among the humans for all these years, but you are still Wolf. I come to you covered in the blood of our enemy, as male wolves have for centuries. Torn, bloodied, furious that we have been forced to fight in order to claim our mate and yet filled with desire for her, for you, Kathryn. It is a glorious thing that no human joining could ever rival.”

“But—” She gasped as she felt a single sharp claw glide down her back, slicing deftly into her skin in a long line of exquisite pain. She shivered with desire, every nerve in her body coming to life.

“There is no shame in what you are, Kathryn,” he continued in a low, sensuous voice. “There is only beauty and grace such as I never found until I met you. You are mine, Kathryn. You were always mine.”

He raised his hand again, trailing two claws this time, down her back to her buttocks. She moaned with need, her hands falling away from her chest and reaching out to stroke his muscular thighs, letting her own claws run out to hold him against her. He sucked in a breath.

“Let me show you,” he managed to say. “Gods, Kathryn, let me show you the glory that is Wolf.”

His claws disappeared as his fingers cupped her bottom and pressed lightly, tucking her up against him so she could feel his arousal, hard and long in the crease between her legs. She moved instinctively, rubbing herself against him. He groaned as his fingers dipped between her legs where she was wet and hot, her sex swollen with desire. She cried out when he touched her clit, heard his soft chuckle as he began stroking her with his thick fingers, dipping into her wet core and out, his thumb reaching out to strum her clit, his rough skin like a thousand sparks of lightning against her sensitized skin as he dipped deep inside her once more, teasing her until she wanted to scream with frustration.

She dug her claws into his thighs, slicing through his denims like butter and digging into his flesh, drawing enough blood she could feel its warmth over her fingers, thrusting herself against his maddeningly slow fingers. Ren growled, bending down to sink his teeth gently into her neck.

“Ren,” she breathed. “Please.”

Without warning, he plunged two fingers into her satiny slick sex, fucking her in and out, while in the same instant, he pinched her swollen bud. She screamed, nearly fainting with the rush of pain and soaring pleasure that swamped every muscle, every nerve, every instinct in her body. Her vaginal muscles clenched around his fingers and she lost control of her own responses. She would have fallen if he hadn’t been there to brace her against the wall, holding her upright against his hard body, with his fingers still buried deep inside her, his thumb still stroking her hot and begging little nub.

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever as he roused her again and again until she was weak with the effort of remaining upright. He kissed her neck, licking away the pain of his bite, trailing a line of kisses from her shoulder to her cheek, taking her mouth when she hungrily sought his lips.

His fingers slid from inside her, and she gasped as he teased them across her clit one last time, feeling her own slick wetness on her skin as he caressed her belly and breasts before circling her with his arms.

“I love you, Kathryn,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you.”

Her eyes filled with tears she never thought she’d shed again. “He told me you left. That he’d offered me to you and you refused.”

His arms tightened around her, and she heard the low rumble of his growl. It was a soothing sound. It spoke to her of love and of safety.

“He lied.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ren scooped her into his arms and crossed the room to the big bed. He didn’t know whose room this was, but there was a bed and that’s all he cared about. Kathryn was limp with post-orgasmic lassitude as he laid her on the bed, pulling the covers from beneath her. He watched her as he stripped his pants off. She lay slightly to one side, her breasts full and swollen, her nipples hard, rosy buds that begged him to taste. Unable to restrain himself, he knelt on the bed and leaned forward, taking one hard little pearl into his mouth and sucking it to an even greater firmness.

Kathryn arched suddenly against his mouth, her hands winding through his hair to hold him in place. He bit down lightly, and she moaned, her body rippling beneath him. Closing his eyes against an almost overwhelming lust, he covered her body with his, pressing forward with his hips and feeling her legs spread in welcome. His heavy erection nestled into the silky, wet folds of her sex, and he began moving slowly, sliding his shaft back and forth, coating it with her slick juices.

“I need you, Kathryn,” he rasped.

“Yes,” she whispered, thrusting against him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, Ren. Please.” She cried out as he pushed harder against her, letting the length of his cock rub back and forth over her swollen clit. “Oh, gods, yes.”

He pulled back enough to slide the tip of his cock into her heat and slammed forward, thrusting his entire aroused length deep inside her, groaning as her hot, tight walls closed around him, sucking him in. He held still for a long moment, supporting himself with his arms, letting his head fall forward, eyes closed against the strength of the emotions threatening to swamp him. As if she understood, Kathryn wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him close.

And then he began moving, pumping in and out, withdrawing almost completely before plunging into her once again, back and forth, reveling in the feel of her hungry sex as it tightened around him, drawing him ever deeper, milking his cock, urging him to climax, to spill his seed deep into her womb. Kathryn moaned and began rubbing herself against him eagerly with every thrust, giving little cries of pleasure that made his sac tighten and his already hard cock swell even further.

She came without warning, her muscles contracting so strongly around his cock that he could barely move. He growled, his teeth baring in combined rage and pure sensuous ecstasy as he gradually forced her slick channel to release him, moving slowly, gaining urgency until he was pounding her once more. He captured her mouth with his, swallowing her cry as she orgasmed one more time, screaming his name, her satin walls convulsing around him, caressing him, and sending him over the edge. He roared as his seed rushed forward to fill her, as he claimed her for his own, his mate, his love.

Chapter Seventeen

Ren woke to find his arms full of naked warm female, and not just any female, but Kathryn. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, filling his hands with her soft, full breasts, rolling her rosy pink nipples in his fingers until they were hard and begging to be tasted.

Kathryn sighed in her sleep, covering his hand with hers and wiggling her firm ass as she tucked herself deeper into his embrace. Ren’s body immediately responded, reminding him of all the delicious things one could do with a welcoming, warm woman on a lazy winter morning.

He grinned and curved his hand over Kathryn’s hip, rubbing himself lazily against the firm globes of her butt. His shaft responded eagerly, growing harder and longer, slipping down into her crease and between her legs until his tip touched the moist heat hidden there.

Ren hummed with pleasure and began to thrust slowly, sliding his hand down to her thigh and pushing her leg forward, opening her to his sensuous intrusion. She was still wet from her last orgasm, still as hot as she’d been when she screamed his name and raked open his back with her claws. He rolled the muscles of his shoulders, feeling the pull of healing wounds. He smiled and flexed his hips forward, sliding deep into her tight little body.

Kathryn murmured softly in her sleep and began pressing back against him in time with his thrusts, making love to him even before she was fully awake. He caressed her belly, sliding his hand down between her legs and burying his fingers deep into her silky, swollen folds until he found her clit, already hard and eager for his attention.

He pinched it gently and Kathryn came fully awake, gasping his name. “Ren!” She moaned wordlessly, rippling her body against him. “How come you still feel so good?”

“Because you do, sweetheart.”

“Mmmm. Oh, yes, there!”

Ren chuckled. “Greedy little wolf.”

“You started it,” she sassed back at him.

Ren growled and began pumping harder, his fingers spread wide over her belly, holding her in place, using his powerful thigh muscles to thrust deep inside her, burying himself over and over again until Kathryn came hard, screaming his name even as his own roar of completion echoed through the final dark hours of the night.

* * * *

Ren lay awake, watching the first pale warnings of dawn light the sky through the unshuttered windows. Kathryn was curled in his arms, her back to his chest, her head tucked under his chin. She lay quietly, but she wasn’t sleeping, either. He could tell from her breathing, from the slight tripping of her heart.

“Who was he?” she asked in a quiet voice.

He didn’t have to ask whom she meant. “A hunter. A very specialized hunter. He called himself Gerald Edmonds, although that’s probably not his real name.”

“A hunter,” she repeated, puzzled. “But why? Someone hired him? For me?”

Her voice rose with anxiety, and he tightened his arms, holding her close. “He’s dead, Kathryn. He can’t hurt you ever again.” Ren wasn’t sure if he meant Edmonds or Preston Avinger.

“It was Preston, wasn’t it?” she whispered. “He hired him.”

Ren nodded, knowing she could feel the movement of his head. “They had a contract,” he confirmed. “Once Preston was dead, the contract went active. Westgate knew about it.”

She was silent for a long time and then said, “Preston never really believed I couldn’t make him Wolf, even after I finally bit him and nothing happened. It took months for his arm to heal, you know.”

“Too bad he didn’t lose something more vital,” Ren said darkly.

She laughed bitterly. “He was furious. He said we were all freaks.”

Ren stroked his hand over her cap of silver hair. “You’re not a freak.”

“I know. I forgot it sometimes, though, living with him.” She sighed. “What do you think my father will do?”

“About what?”

“About me. Will he come after me?”

Ren wanted to tell her yes, that Dominick would come after her, that she should go away with Ren, that he would keep her safe. They could leave tomorrow, the sooner, the better. But it would have been a lie. Dom might try to sweet-talk her into coming back to Clanhome, but he wouldn’t hurt her. She was too valuable to him alive, and their kind lived a long time. She was angry now, but Dom would figure she’d come back sooner or later. A lone wolf was a lonely wolf, and Kathryn had already been alone a long time.

But Ren wanted her to choose him freely, to come with him because she wanted him, not because she was afraid of her father. So he told her the truth.

“No, he won’t. He might try to call you, might even show up on your doorstep someday. But he’s a patient man. He won’t force you.”

The sun broke over the horizon abruptly, flooding the room with brilliant light. Ren closed his eyes against the glare and felt the heat on his eyelids.

“I’m going back to Europe, Kathryn.” She stiffened slightly in his embrace, but he continued. “I have to report in to Clanhome first, maybe even see Dom, but then I’m going home. I want you to come with me.”

She rolled over in his arms, pressing the length of her warm, lithe body against his and burying her face in his shoulder. And he knew what she’d say.

* * * *

“Right,” Ren said, switching the phone to his other ear to check his watch. “I’ll drive over there now. They can home in on my GPS. I’ll call you.” He disconnected and walked over to the bed where Kathryn still lay, half asleep after their long and exhausting night. She opened her eyes, and he saw her surprise that he was up and dressed already. She glanced at the clock quickly, then back at his face.

“Tommy’s downstairs,” he said. “The storm let up during the night, and the plows are working. I’ve got to meet Dom’s cleanup crew. Paul Jorgens—you remember him?—is with them, so I might be able to avoid going all the way out to Clanhome, especially since I still have some details to clear up with the police in town.”

“Ren—” she started, but he interrupted.

“Don’t say it, Kathryn. I understand, I really do. You’re free for the first time in your life, and you want to see what it’s like. And you should.” He sat down next to her. “But you need to remember one thing. Well, two things actually. One.” He leaned over and took her mouth in a long and searing kiss. She made a hungry little noise that had him wishing he could spend the rest of the day in bed with her. But, hell, one day wouldn’t be nearly enough.

He pulled away reluctantly. “I love you, Kathryn. I always have.” He stood up, pulled his jacket on and started for the door.

“Wait!” she cried. “What’s the second thing?”

He paused and looked back at her. “You don’t need to be alone to be free. When you realize that, you’ll know where to find me.”

Epilogue

Kathryn grabbed the slatted back of the bench as the ferry bumped against the dock. The rough wood of the pier was dark and pitted with age, water pooling in deep gouges and runnels, gleaming silver in the morning sunlight.

The rain seemed gone for good this time. At least she hoped it was. The locals had all assured her the bad weather was unusual for this late in the spring, but she didn’t believe them anymore. It had rained on and off for almost three weeks now, while she traveled from one tiny town to another looking for Ren and his small clan of wolves. Everywhere she’d gone, it seemed as if someone had seen them just yesterday, or maybe it was last week. One step behind him all the way and she was beginning to believe he didn’t even live around here, that this was just a big joke the locals were playing on the dumb American lady.

She stood, closing her eyes and raising her face to the weak sunlight. One way or another, she was staying put for a while. This town was big enough to have a hotel of some sort, good enough for a few days anyway, while she checked her sources and tried to figure out where the hell Renjiro Roesner had gotten off to. It had only been two months since she’d lay in that big bed all alone, telling herself what a fool she was to let him walk away. How could he have disappeared so thoroughly in only two months? And why had she waited so long to start looking?

Kathryn knew the answer to that one. She’d wanted to be free, to have no one telling her what to do, how to behave, where to go. So she’d sold that damn penthouse of Preston’s along with just about everything in it and walked away. And then discovered the only place she really wanted to be was with Ren—wherever the hell that was.

She sighed and made her way down the rickety gangplank to the dock. Turning to one of the men lashing the ferry in place, she spoke to him in the local language, asking if there was a café nearby. He grinned in obvious surprise and rattled off directions, offering assurances as to the establishment’s fine cuisine and fair prices. Probably owned by his cousin, she thought.

But still, a cup of tea would be nice, and something rich and sinful to go with it. If she couldn’t have Ren for breakfast, she’d just have to settle for something chocolaty instead.

* * * *

Ren strolled down the cobbled street, breathing in air freshly washed by yesterday’s rain. The narrow streets were still damp, but today the sky was clear and blue, and already he could see the brown hillsides around the town turning green with new growth. This winter had been hard, and the spring far colder than usual for this part of the world. It had taken a toll on both minds and bodies. But if today was any harbinger, the winter was finally gone for good.

Next to him, Alec gave a low whistle. “Look at that,” he said admiringly.

Ren followed his gaze to a small café down the block where several tables had been set out on the damp walk to take advantage of the unexpected good weather. He stopped walking.

“She’s gotta be new in town,” Alec marveled. “I’m sure I would’ve—”

Ren growled deep in his chest and swung his head slowly to regard the other wolf through half-slitted eyes.

“Mine,” he snarled.

Alec’s eyes widened. He glanced at the woman and back to Ren, then lowered his eyes submissively and kept them there as Ren strode away.

Kathryn stood up when she saw him. Her silver hair had grown long enough to brush her collar, and it glinted brightly in the new sunlight. She smiled as he drew closer, and he could see the spark of laughter in her gray eyes.

He stopped two feet away. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” she said, closing the distance between them and stepping into his open arms. “I did.”

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D. B. Reynolds lives with her husband of many years in a flammable canyon near Malibu, California. When she’s not writing her own books, she can frequently be found reading someone else’s.

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