Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (27 page)

“I thought you healed when you changed form,” said Lexie.

“Wounds from silver are different.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

He gave her a narrow look, his expression changing as if he suddenly remembered how everything had ended between them. “In a human hospital? That would go well, don't you think?”

She took a step back. “I'm sorry. I didn't think.” Hollowness opened up in her, recalling everything that she'd lost when she'd slipped out of their apartment, leaving no more than a note behind.

His tone grew sharper. “What are you doing here, Lexie?”

“Chloe hired me as the wedding photographer.”

“I don't mean that, I mean...” He gestured from her to him. “I mean why are you talking to me? I don't exist for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she shot back, irritation rushing in to salve her hurt. “If I close my eyes, you'll disappear?”

His glare reminded her of why she had left him. Beneath his charming exterior was a predator. That beast was fully present now.

“But one day I did vanish, didn't I?” The resentment was thick in his voice. “The day you learned what I really was, you just stopped seeing me. It didn't matter if I was standing right in front of you.”

“That was years ago, Faran,” Lexie said, fresh shock rising in her. She'd expected time to blunt emotion, but clearly that hadn't happened for either of them. “Why are you still so angry?”

He stood with one hand over his side and a stubborn glower on his face. “Why am I still angry?” he repeated softly. “Do you have to ask?”

She matched stubborn for stubborn. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes. “Lexie, what does happiness look like to you?”

The question caught her off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer me.”

“I'm an artist,” she said automatically. “Taking pictures is what makes me happy.”

He moved so fast she never saw it. All at once, his hands were on her arms, pulling her close until their bodies all but touched. Werewolves ran hot, their body temperatures a degree or two above humans'. A long line of heat vibrated between them, tantalizing Lexie through the silk of her tunic and slacks.

She didn't like being trapped in his grip. It was far too unexpected and intimate for comfort, putting him in control in a way that sent every alarm bell ringing. She squirmed, but his fingers were like iron.

Faran looked down into her face, his human eyes as impassive as the wolf's had been. She could almost touch his resentment. He wore it like a scar over the hurt she'd left behind. “This was all I wanted. To be close to you, even with you knowing what I am. I thought maybe you could eventually get past the wolf.”

Lexie's hands found his chest. It was familiar territory, bringing back a flood of sensory reminders. Suddenly she felt flushed and aching with memory. Her first thought was to push him away, but the crack in his voice stopped her. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt breathless, her face nearly numb. “I'm sorry.”

Her hands slid down his shirt, feeling the quivering muscle beneath. He was holding himself in check so hard, it felt as if he might explode. Her fingers became clumsy, unequal to whatever it was she was trying to do. Comfort? Fend off? She'd lost all sense of direction.

And then her hand found hot, sticky wetness. She gasped. “Faran, you're bleeding.”

He exhaled, his breath warm against her cheek. “That wasn't what you said in my fantasy of this moment.”

“Faran...”

He pulled away, walking backward. Cold air flooded in to take his place. “Go home, Lexie. Get out of here. Whatever's going on is just going to get worse. Believe it or not, I don't want to see you hurt.”

Of course she believed him. Whatever else he was, Faran had never been cruel. “But aren't you in danger?”

He stopped moving, his hand over his injury again. “That's got nothing to do with you.”

Lexie couldn't help feeling that he was very, very wrong. “What are you going to do?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked away. It was exactly what she'd done to him back in Paris.

It was what she wanted.

She was absolutely sure of it.

Almost.

Chapter 3

“Y
ou're lucky you left the scene when you did,” Sam said to Faran. “The discussion in the reception hall went from bad to worse.”

It was just before dawn and Faran was exhausted. Sam didn't look much better. He had gone from the palace to a long meeting with the Company's top brass and hadn't even bothered to change out of his torn suit.

Now they were sitting in one of the break rooms at the Company's headquarters, which was a compound hidden in the hills outside the capital city. It had been decorated by vampires, and looked like a cross between a country club and a crypt—all dark, heavy furniture and oxblood wallpaper.

“What did I miss?” Faran asked. “Please tell me Prince Kyle did more than send Gregori to bed without his supper.”

“Amelie was ready to flay him alive for threatening her personal guards.”

“I'm touched.”

“I'm in awe. She has her father's temper.”

Of course the members of the Company were more than just bodyguards. They were supernatural operatives, and the King of Marcari encouraged their participation where and when the international community needed them.

Faran was one of the Four Horsemen, the Company's crack unit named after the riders of the Apocalypse: Death, Plague, Famine and War. Sam was called War and the doctor, Mark Winspear, Plague. Faran was Famine and the only one not a vampire. Jack Anderson—Death—had been killed in action. He'd been like the father Faran had never had.

Even one man down, the Horsemen were the best. They took the call after the CIA, the FBI, MI5 and all the rest of the big boys failed to get results. Then they slipped in and did what needed doing. They were ghosts, action heroes and James Bond all wrapped into one fabulous package—at least on a good day.

This had not been one of Faran's better days. “I would have stayed, but silver bullets aren't exactly my friends. Once I got the bleeding under control, I came back here.”

“I would think so.”

Faran slumped as far down in the armchair as he could without pulling his stitches. “Still, I hated to miss the punch line.”

The whole time he'd been in the reception room, Faran had felt his strength fading, his vision going dark. He'd been bleeding out, but every instinct had refused to let him show weakness. Not in front of the enemy.

Not in front of Lexie.

“You drove like that?” Sam asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“I turned human first. Easier to reach the gas pedal.”

The vampire gave him a look. “I'm surprised you managed without passing out.”

Faran grunted. “Not a big deal.”

“Right. You could have asked for help.”

“Whatever.” Being the token werewolf in the group wasn't easy. As tough as he was, keeping up with vampires demanded his best game. There'd been a few bad moments in the locker room when he'd struggled into his shirt. There were so many tiny movements that went unnoticed until a person had a hole ripped through his gut. And the walk to the parking garage a few streets away from the palace had been no treat, either. But he'd rather shave off his fur than admit it.

“Did anyone see you?”

“Chloe,” he answered automatically, but then he hesitated. “She was with Lexie.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Any problems there?”

“No.” Not in the way Sam meant. Lexie would never betray the fact that he was a werewolf. She'd been true to her word about keeping his nature and the Company a secret. By Company law, she should have had her memories wiped, but he hadn't been able to ask that of her. Lexie clung fiercely to her independence, and obviously that included control over her memory. That bargain—her silence for his trust—was the one unbroken promise between them.

Faran leaned his head against the chair back, closing his eyes. “Lexie and I talked for a few minutes and then I left.”

Her voice—always low, always a little throaty—had resonated through him, stirring up the memory of so many midnight conversations. A hopeless, empty feeling yawned inside him, reminding him that she'd recoiled from the very core of what he was. Faran pressed his hand against the wound in his side, as if that would keep his soul, as well as blood, from leaking away.

He opened his eyes. Sam was watching him. Faran was used to the undead, but there was something about that motionless, storm-gray gaze that put him on the alert, predator to predator. “You're giving me the vampire stink-eye.”

“I remember the mess you were in when you two broke it off before. Right now, we need your head in the game.”

Faran didn't argue. “Not an issue. We're barely on speaking terms.”

“She faced down men with guns for you. That took a lot of courage.”

“She didn't mean anything by it.” He'd learned his lesson the first time. “Our love life was filled with sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Sam didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. “Shall we move on to the hounds and bullets part of the entertainment?”

“Why not?”

“We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

“I've heard that one before, but the girl was half-naked and holding a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.”

“Don't joke. Not now.” Sam's worried expression sobered Faran.

Faran tried to sit straight and regretted it. “What's up? Give me the quick and dirty version first.”

“The Vidonese insist on using their own security for the wedding. In fact, they're insisting that the entire capital be patrolled by their own guard.”

“So where do we fit in that picture?”

“We don't. No nonhumans allowed.”

Faran's anxiety burst into full bloom. “That doesn't sound like Prince Kyle. He likes us.”

“It's not Kyle, it's his father.” Sam pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Now that the prince and princess are uniting the two kingdoms, there has to be a compromise about the Company and the Knights of Vidon.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Company is banned from the palace. From the city itself.” Sam was expressionless, which usually meant he was about to explode.

“Since when?” Faran growled. “How come this is the first I'm hearing about it?”

“No one knew. The kings signed the agreement earlier tonight, but their negotiations have been kept under wraps. No one could afford a leak, especially with all the international media around for the wedding. Both sides agree that the supernatural should remain a secret from the general population.”

“And this agreement is why the knights suddenly started shooting at us?”

“The Vidonese expected our resistance. Their orders were to clear us out, at gunpoint if necessary.”

And of course—knowing nothing about any agreement—the Company had fought back. Anger hunched Faran's shoulders. “Did anyone plan on informing us we weren't welcome anymore?”

“The king wanted to speak to us, and to Princess Amelie, himself. The Vidonese representatives agreed that would be best.”

“That's not what happened. Amelie and Kyle looked as surprised as anyone else.”

“His Majesty was going to tell us tomorrow. But the order to treat the Company as hostile went out tonight. Vidon is claiming an administrative error.”

Faran swore. “Yeah, right.”

Sam's mouth was a tight line. “Marcari's human guards will stay at the palace, but no members of the Company. None of them except you.”

Faran looked up in surprise. “Why me?”

“The Vidonese don't know your human face. Werewolves don't show up on the Knights's security sensors the way vampires do. You can still walk freely though the palace and the city.”

It was true that Faran hadn't worked at the palace very often. His comings and goings involved a lot of sneaking around, posing as a tourist, and once showing up with Sam holding his leash. They'd both been the butt of jokes after that one.

“You're saying I'm to be the Company's eyes and ears?” Faran said, a mix of apprehension and excitement stirring inside him. “Who knows about this?”

“Company HQ, the king, Amelie and Kyle. That's it.”

“Even though Kyle is from Vidon?”

“He knows you, and he loves Amelie. He wants her to be safe.”

Faran narrowed his eyes. “Why wouldn't she be?”

“Vidon just forced Marcari to give up its greatest protection. The two nations have been at war forever. You have to admit, it looks suspicious. There are even whispers of Vidon's collusion with outside forces. King Renault is willing to go along with the agreement up to a point. He wants the marriage and alliance to work, but he wants a hotline to the Company if things go wrong. That's you.”

“I see.” Faran shifted uneasily. He was ideally suited for the task, but was—at least compared to the centuries-old vampires—a junior agent.

Sam ducked his dark head. “Tell Chloe all this, will you? With the wedding so near, she's sleeping in the palace. She needs to know why I cannot come to see her.”

“Of course,” Faran agreed, wishing he had someone expecting him.

He dismissed the thought, even if the emotion behind it snagged in his soul like a barb. Wanting Lexie—a woman who saw him as a slavering beast—was no way to keep his head in the game.

* * *

Pounding woke Lexie out of a fitful doze. She cracked open her eyes, squinting into the darkness. For a long, foggy moment she couldn't figure out what had dragged her to consciousness, but then she heard it again. A fist thumping on the heavy wood door to her guest suite in the palace.

Foreboding brought her fully awake. She groped for her phone and checked the time—five o'clock. Her anxiety deepened, making her clench her fingers around the phone.

The pounding started afresh.

No one pounded on a door before dawn for a happy reason. She shoved the covers aside and got up, pulling on a robe. Her feet found slippers somewhere between the bedroom and the tiny sitting room.

“Who is it?” she called.

“Open the door, Ms. Haven,” a male voice demanded. “It is Captain Valois of the Marcari Police Department. We would like to ask you some questions.”

Lexie hesitated, her fingers on the door handle. The officer was speaking English even though the country's official language was French. It was a courtesy she'd encountered everywhere in the tiny kingdom, but for once it seemed sinister. Whatever questions the captain had to ask, he wanted to be clearly understood. With a hard swallow, she opened the door.

Valois didn't so much as blink at her disheveled appearance. “May I come in?”

Lexie stepped aside. The captain was somewhere in his forties, with nondescript brown hair and worry lines. But his uniform was neatly pressed, as were those of the guards who stood to either side of him. All three marched into the tiny front room, immediately overcrowding the small space.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked. Her voice was thick with sleep, but firm.

“Please remain here with me while we search your quarters,” he said evenly.

“Search my things?” Lexie exclaimed. “What for?”

Valois gave a nod to his henchmen. One started for her bedroom, the other picked up her bag of camera equipment. Lexie darted forward protectively, but the captain grabbed her arm. “Let my men do their work, Ms. Haven. I promise you they will not be unnecessarily destructive.”

Lexie pulled away, feeling utterly ambushed. She ran her hands through the rough tangle of her unbrushed hair. “What's going on?”

Valois clasped his hands behind his back. “A distressing circumstance has emerged. We are questioning everyone who was in the reception hall last night.”

She suddenly noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Valois appeared to have been up all night. “Distressing circumstance? You mean the shooting?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not that. You were photographing the wedding band.” It wasn't a question.

She winced as something clattered inside her equipment bag, and the man searching it swore under his breath. “Yes, I was.”

Lexie pictured the heavy gold band set with the magnificent fire rubies of Vidon. The stones were part of Vidon's crown jewels—and some of the finest specimens in the world. Kyle had ordered them reset for Amelie as a symbol of unity between the two kingdoms. The sight of them in the swirling gold band had dazzled the guests at the reception. “I was about halfway through when everything happened.”

“As I understand it, the security detail had disabled the alarms and opened the case to make the process easier.”

“Sure. They were standing right there. The ring was perfectly safe.” Lexie stopped short, realizing what she was saying. Her irritation at the intruders faded beneath a mounting dismay. “But they left the ring unguarded when they went to protect the princess.”

“Exactement,”
he said grimly. “The ring is missing. We can only assume that it has been stolen.”

Lexie's mouth dropped open. “Surely there were security cameras on the display case!”

“Indeed there were, but it seems that they malfunctioned at exactly the right moment. There were a number of incidents last night that had unusually bad timing. The chaos caused by a pack of hunting dogs, for instance, that just happened to be available right when Sam Ralston's pet wolf ran by. Or the fact that an order to dismiss the Company guards was given to the Vidonese at a time when it was guaranteed to cause a riot.”

Bewildered, Lexie struggled to take in everything Valois was telling her. A sick feeling spiraled through her, especially when she knew how unusual it was for someone like Valois to reveal so many details to a civilian. There was only one reason he would do so—which was confirmed in his next words.

“But you know all of this already, don't you, Ms. Haven?” the captain asked with an icy glint in his eyes. “Once we established that the ring hadn't simply been knocked aside during the chaos, we put our heads together and thought about that familiar threesome: means, motive and opportunity. You were the one closest to the unguarded ring, and you had a perfect excuse for being there.”