Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (40 page)

“His royal sovereign, of course. Again, Ms. Haven, why do you ask?”

King Targon. Lexie chewed her lip. Outside of the fact that the king didn't like getting his picture taken, she couldn't imagine why he would terrorize a photographer. “Was there anything in the file about my brother?”

She heard the pause. It didn't last long, but it was there. “Yes.”

“How much?”

That was the wrong question. She heard the alarm in Valois's tone. “Ms. Haven, I insist you tell me what has prompted these questions.”

She ended the call, her face going numb with horror.
I can't relive this again
. It had been hard enough talking about her experience to Faran. She couldn't discuss it with the police captain, who had held her and grilled her in that tiny, oppressive room. Some things were too private to share.

But right now, she couldn't afford privacy, could she?

Lexie began pacing, looking everywhere for other details that said her childhood terrors had returned to haunt her. Few people knew about the skewer incident besides her immediate family. Her stepfather had abdicated responsibility for Justin by then, working out of town as much as he could. Her mother insisted Lexie's injury had been self-harm, that a twelve-year-old girl could and did stab her own thigh for no reason but to get her brother in trouble.

There had been a doctor. Years later, a therapist. The doctor had tried to involve the police, but it had ended up a case of one child's word against her family.

If nobody believes you long enough, eventually you stop talking.
And it also meant very few people knew the story. There were even fewer who would want to taunt her with the details.

The room began to grow close, the walls pressing in as if they would crush her to paste. Lexie scrambled into the bedroom and hauled up the sash window, breathing in the cool, sunny air.
I need to get out of here
.

The room began to spin. Panic was shutting off her air.
I have to think logically
.
What is the effect of all this?

Someone had come into the room while Faran was alone and asleep. When her back was turned. That was what was most frightening: there was no way to anticipate who would invade their privacy, or when. No place was safe.

Such ambushes had been one of Justin's favorite tactics.

The message was fear.
What does that achieve?

Distraction. Lexie hated herself even as the thought formed in her mind. While she and Faran were gingerly nursing the spark of their relationship back to life, she was the weak link in Faran's defense. If someone got to her, they threw him off his game—and by all evidence he was giving their adversaries a run for their money.
I will not be a liability
.

Lexie couldn't stay in the room a moment longer—not after it had been invaded. She slipped her laptop in her backpack and pulled on a coat. Grabbing her keys, she unlocked the door to the corridor. But as she turned the knob, a weight against it pushed her inward. Caught by surprise, she didn't have a choice but to stagger backward, fright skittering up her spine as the body of a man collapsed into the room. He lolled at her feet, arms splayed, blood trickling into his eyes from a gash on the scalp. He wore one of the gray-and-red jackets of the Marcari palace guard.

With a cry, Lexie instantly dropped to her knees, checking for signs of life. Thank heavens he was human-warm, a faint pulse fluttering at his neck. He wasn't a
thing
like Gillon.

Only then did she think of her own danger. If someone had attacked a guard, that someone was probably still around. The attack must have happened while she was in the bedroom where she wouldn't have heard any noise. She grabbed her phone, hitting redial to call Valois again.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said Prince Kyle, stepping over the man to get into the room. He was dressed for the road, in a tight-fitting zippered jacket and driving gloves, sunglasses clipped to his breast pocket. “I don't like it when people ignore me while I'm talking.”

He kicked the downed man's feet aside so that he could close the door. The casual contempt of the gesture tore a curse from her. She was flabbergasted.
Prince Kyle?

Kyle—handsome, suave, the darling of every tabloid—flashed her a look that said he cared no more for her than the wounded guard.

Chapter 17

“I
don't believe this!” Rage and fear tore at Lexie, leaving her breathing ragged. Sweat dampened her skin, sticking her clothes to her body.

“That's the whole point. Put away the phone, lovely Lexie,” the prince repeated in a warning tone. “It's time to talk.”

The Kyle she'd always known would be calling an ambulance. He'd be bandaging cuts and scrapes himself. “This man's wounded,” Lexie protested. “He needs help.”

“Color me astonished, since I'm the one who wounded him. Put the phone away.”

Her hands shook as she pretended to end the call. But living with Justin had given her an ability to cope with insane situations. Instead of ending the call, she turned down the volume and put the live phone in her pocket. If Valois picked up, he'd be able to hear the conversation. She met Kyle's eyes, careful to look submissive even as disbelief and disappointment tore her in two. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

“My lord,” he mocked. “You're a good little groveler, aren't you?”

He sounds just like my brother.
Tears stung her eyes, but she wasn't sure how much was fear and how much was for Amelie, who had no idea how deceived she'd been.

As they all had been. Hadn't the prince sat here last night, listening to every detail of the case? They'd handed their enemy far too much information. She had to warn Faran, but first she had to get through this. “Yes, my lord, I'll do whatever you like, my lord.”

“Will you?”

The guard groaned, his eyelids fluttering. He was coming around. Kyle looked at the man with distaste before flicking his dark gaze back to her. “You have something I want.”

“My lord?”

“I want your photos.”

No surprise there.

The guard flailed and started to roll over. Kyle kicked him again, and the guard stopped moving.

Taking her time, praying for the cavalry, Lexie reached into her pocket, pulling out the memory cards. She set them on the coffee table. Kyle scooped them up with a smug look that made her want to do serious damage to the crown jewels of Vidon.

“Where are the rest?” he demanded.

“The rest?”

“You downloaded the images somewhere.”

She slid the backpack across the floor. “My computer is in there.”

As he bent to pick it up, her hand snaked to the top of the coffee table, snatching up the skewer and holding it so that her sleeve hid the glint of metal.

“Is that it?” he asked, dropping the memory cards into the front pocket of the pack. “Every copy? No more disks or flash drives or tablets?”

“No. Of course not,” she lied.

Kyle gave her a condescending smile. “I'll have my people trace your internet accounts just in case.”

Lexie ground her teeth.

“Keep in mind, Ms. Haven, that this gives me a record of which photos are yours. If I see any of them in the media, I'll know you have another set. I'll leave it to your imagination how I'll react to that.”

“What's in those photos that matters so much?” Speaking up wasn't smart, but Lexie couldn't help herself.

He grabbed her jaw, the light leather gloves he wore cool against her burning skin. He pinched until it hurt. “I didn't give you leave to question me.”

His slap made Lexie's head ring. She fell to the carpet, tasting dust. The room wheeled, a rushing sound drowning out every thought. Her stomach rolled dangerously.

As he reached for the door, she shook her head to clear it. Then she silently rose, palming the skewer. She'd first been faced with Justin when she was little more than a baby. Now she was no longer a helpless child. She didn't have to take the same crap.

As Kyle opened the door, she readied herself to strike. He wouldn't be expecting her to do anything but cower.

She heard the scrabbling of claws an instant before Kyle turned the door handle. Relief leaped in her chest, but she caught herself before she made a peep. Kyle wasn't looking at her—he'd smacked her down and was waltzing out in triumph. The handle clicked and the door began to swing.

The wolf—Faran—burst through the door with a snarl. Lexie stabbed upward with the skewer just as Kyle fell backward in surprise. She felt the point sink into flesh as Kyle, the wolf and Lexie tumbled in a heap. Faran rolled away, vibrating with a low grumble, every line of his body curled with surprise and confusion.

“It's Kyle!” Lexie cried. “He's the one!”

Her word was enough. The wolf sprang, snarling. Ivory fangs snapped like scythes, huge paws reaching for the prince. But Kyle was quick, dodging neatly behind the couch despite the skewer stabbed into his rear. It hadn't gone in far, but it had to hurt like blazes.

Except he wasn't bleeding. He should have been bleeding at least a little.

Faran landed, immediately crouching low, ears flat to his head. Then he began to creep forward, fangs bared. He was slowly driving the prince into the corner where he could be controlled. But Kyle was reaching behind him, groping for something at the small of his back. It was a small, sleek gun—Lexie had felt it dig into her ribs as they'd fallen to the floor.

“He's armed!” she cried, but a warning wouldn't be enough. She knew Faran wouldn't let Kyle go, even to save himself.

The guard had crawled to his hands and knees, wiping the blood from his eyes. Lexie snatched the gun from the guard's holster and trained it on Kyle. “Stop right there! Hands where I can see them!”

Valois pounded through the door with a handful of police. He skidded to a stop, pure astonishment on his face. “Your Royal Highness?”

Kyle's expression was one of pure horror. Lexie looked from him to Faran to the doorway. Prince Kyle—another Prince Kyle—was standing there, too, looking equally astonished. Lexie's brain froze.
What in the blazes?

Faran's confused growl rumbled low as he looked at the prince in the doorway. Nasty Kyle seized the moment and dove for the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it just as the wolf smashed into the panels.

“Stop him!” Valois and the rest dashed toward the bedroom door, ready to break it down. But Faran had already wheeled and bolted for the corridor, disappearing from sight in a streak of gray fur.

Lexie stared at Nice Kyle, utterly shell-shocked. “Since when did you have a double?”

He shook his head, his dark eyes wide. “I don't. I didn't.”

Valois's boot crashed the bedroom door open, but the sash was up and the room was empty. Nasty Kyle had jumped or climbed or flown.

Valois holstered his gun and hitched up his belt, his expression one of profound disgust. “If I didn't see him myself, I'd say he was a ghost.”

“He's not a ghost,” said Lexie. “I skewered him in the butt. He was solid.”

Kyle's expression was scandalized. “You skewered him?”

She set the gun on the coffee table and picked up her backpack, clutching it close like a security blanket. “I don't think he was human.”

“You think he was like the man who called himself Gillon?” asked the prince.

Valois looked very interested. “Gillon was one of the green-coats. Pardon my saying so, Your Royal Highness, but while most of the Vidonese guard are solid men, there are a few who could do with a second look.”

“You have my permission to look as long and hard as you like, Captain,” said Kyle.

The prince helped the security guard from the floor to the couch while Valois called the infirmary for a doctor. The guard was holding a towel to the cut on his head.

Lexie sat down next to the man. “Is there anything I can get you?”

The guard shot her a pained look. “I thought the palace would be an easy position, but no. Wolves? Doppelgängers? Poisonings? I'm putting in my retirement papers first thing in the morning.”

* * *

Lexie sank to the bed slowly, as if it might explode beneath her. It was hours after her visit from the anti-Kyle, as she was starting to think of the creature, and she could feel her mind thrumming like an overtaxed hard drive. Faran had hunted for the fetch but couldn't find a scent to track him. Technically, the enemy had fled, but there had been a victory of sorts. Now it was clear the enemy was after Lexie's photos, and she had to admit striking back with the skewer had felt liberating.

She didn't want to be in the position where it was hurt or be hurt—so desperate that she'd choose to drive a weapon into flesh. But underneath the prettiness and protocol of the Marcari court, there was war. If she was going to stick around, she had to accept the fight.

And she had to stay—running would cost her far too much. Top of that list was Faran. Once again he'd come when she needed him. That was simply who he was.

He was irreplaceable.

The wolf was standing in the bedroom doorway, yellow eyes watching her. He'd approached so quietly, she hadn't heard. Now that she knew he was there, she could feel his scrutiny, sense him testing her response. Wondering if seeing him chase a villain had brought back memories of that blood-soaked alley in Paris. It did, but she understood so much more now.

“I'm not going to scream and run,” she said quietly. “Unless I jump out the window, there's nowhere to go. But you never know. Kyle's double tried it.”

He padded forward a step, then paused. Lexie's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't move. Apparently encouraged, Faran drew near and put his chin on her knee, eyebrows lifting. Werewolves didn't normally fall in the cute and cuddly department, but he was giving it a good try. Gingerly, she touched the rough coat of his ruff and he whined in pleasure, ears cupping forward. Encouraged, she dug her fingers in deeper, feeling the solid warmth of him.

“This is kind of weird,” she said. “Should I be throwing a ball for you? Taking you for walks? Filling a water dish?”

Faran backed away, giving an enormous yawn that showed the long, razor-sharp teeth. Lexie hid her shudder as best she could, but it was impossible not to feel like Red Riding Hood when she saw those fangs. The wolf bounded onto the bed, making the entire frame skid with his weight.

“Hey,” said Lexie, jumping up. “Get off the furniture!”

But when she spun around, Faran was back in human form, and entirely naked. He folded his hands behind his head and grinned. “Do you really want me to leave?”

Lexie's cheeks heated. “That's the thing with dogs. They let it all hang out.”

Faran's lips twitched. “At least I don't claw the couch.”

He raised himself up on one elbow and held out his other hand, beckoning when she didn't move right away. Still balanced on the edge of her mental precipice, Lexie took his hand, letting him pull her forward until her knees bumped the edge of the bed.

“What's wrong?” he asked. He had that animal way of knowing when she was unhappy. It would have been perfect timing if he weren't so utterly, gorgeously distracting.

“I'm not used to stabbing people, even when they're not actually people.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She could have, but the mood was too good and both of them needed a break. She bent forward, kissing him lightly. “We'll talk, but not now.”

He ran his fingertips down her throat and into the hollow of her collarbone. Her nerves sparked wherever he touched, leaving tingles of fire and ice. “I want you,” he said.

Her breath caught. This had been coming for days.

They hadn't made love since he'd told her what he was. They had slept together for a year, but the strangeness of his revelation had made her slam that door tight. And now she could see the wolf stir just beneath the surface of his smile. It wanted her, too, and that was the problem. She ducked her head, not able to meet his gaze.

“Don't hide from me,” he whispered. It was a plea, plain and clear. “You don't have to be brave in front of me.”

“You wear a mask just as much as I do,” she said softly.

“I took mine off,” he said, a hint of tension in the words.
And you ran
.

Lexie wanted to back away, but every instinct told her the wolf was relentless. It had patience and stamina she could only dream of. Wherever she ran, Faran would follow, if only as a ghost in her heart.

In Paris, things had been very clear. She had lived as prey for too many years to accept the ultimate predator as her partner. They might have been worlds apart, but they both understood jungle law. She had refused to put herself in that position again.

Faran frowned, as if the same thoughts were going through his mind. “I never knew what was going on with you until now. Still, I'm sorry I handled everything so badly.”

“I wasn't exactly sharing.” But her words were lost as he pulled her onto the bed. “Faran!”

“Relax,” he said. “You have the upper hand between us.”

He rolled onto his back, carrying her along with the motion so that she was on top of him. Her legs straddled his narrow waist, her skirt hitching up so her bare thighs felt the play of his muscles. Old habit brought her hands to his shoulders and chest—she'd always loved the feel of his warm, smooth skin—and she realized why some habits should never be shaken. Heat rippled through her as his hands gripped her waist. His eyes were drowsy with lust.

Faran's gaze slowly focused. It held hope and trepidation and just a pinch of mischief. “I get that I have to earn your trust, after what's happened to you. But I need you to give me the chance.”

Lexie's words scattered. She could only find one. “Why?”

He slid a hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together. “I love the way you see the world in ways no one thinks to look. You push yourself to ridiculous lengths before you even begin to think you measure up. I'm fascinated and appalled that you can live on Gummy Bears and coffee for days. You're astonishingly beautiful. I could go on forever, but I'm no poet. All I can say is that I think you and I deserve some happiness, and I think we can give it to one another.”