Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (42 page)

King Renault finally spoke. “Captain Valois, please return the prisoner to his cell. Ms. Haven, Mr. Kenyon, thank you for your account of Prince Kyle's double. Those of us who count Prince Leopold as family should remain to discuss this latest development.”

Lexie nodded, relieved to be dismissed. Faran put a possessive hand at her back, guiding her toward the door. Their path took them past the prisoner.

Just then, Poitier turned his head to get a better view of Lexie. “You're Ms. Haven?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I remembered you from the Queen's Gallery.” His face twisted. It wasn't a pleasant expression in the least. “I was given a message for you. I was told I had to say it when I met you. I guess they knew this was going to happen.”

“What message?” Faran asked darkly.

“Justin says hi.”

Chapter 19

I
t was time for explanations, Lexie realized.

“A skewer?” exclaimed Faran. “So that's what you stuck into him?”

The visceral memory of the point driving into flesh made Lexie shudder. “You were going for his throat. My work was on the reverse side. I wonder if I'd pulled it out if he'd have started to leak that yellow ooze.”

Faran jammed his hands through his thick hair, making it stand on end. “And you didn't tell me about finding the skewer till now because?”

“Last night was too good. I didn't want to spoil it with stories of my sick brother.”

They were sitting on the couch in their rooms, Lexie on one end and Faran on the other. He looked oddly helpless, as if the cushions between them stretched for miles. Lexie bridged the distance, putting her hand on his knee.

He huffed a sigh. “I was getting my Barry White on while you were wondering why some psycho is stalking you. I always had the best timing.”

She winced. “True, but you managed to take my mind off it. That's saying something.”

“Next time tell me right away.” He put a hand over hers. “You realize that your life could depend on it?”

She hitched herself toward him, so she could lean against his shoulder. “Sure.”

His fingers tightened. “You're not alone.”

No, because Justin says hi.

“I know,” she said. “And I also know that whoever is behind this is trying to reduce me to a mass of quivering goo to throw us—you—off your game.”

Faran looked dubious. “There are many more superheroes where I came from. I doubt this is all about me.”

“Don't sell yourself short.” She leaned close, giving him a kiss.

His eyes seemed to flash wolf-yellow, although it might have been a trick of the light. “Let me put the Company on this. It's the kind of thing they're good at, and they're gnashing their fangs at being kept out of the game.”

“Now there's a pretty image.”

“It's better to keep them busy, trust me.”

She had a mental vision of Count Dracula doing background checks. By the end of it, they'd know every sordid detail. Every time she had to stay after school. And the time the child welfare people had come to the house after she'd started cutting herself in the school bathroom. As if she needed that dredged up.

She loathed the invasion of a past she wished she could obliterate, but somewhere in this mess she'd lost her privacy. Everyone had chips on the table. That were hers. “Okay.”

Justin says hi, but we'll say hi right back at you.

Faran kissed her temple, but she twisted around, giving him her mouth. She couldn't live in the past without shriveling up. Relief was the only thing that mattered right then, and Faran was exactly what she needed.

He tasted faintly of chocolate from the mocha he'd been drinking, and beneath that was the wild, unique taste of him. His beard was already rough, but she liked it that way. She spent more than enough time with the pretty men of the fashion world. Faran was like whisky after ice wine.

His hands slid around her waist as she crawled into his lap, lacing her arms about his neck. He was still wearing the dress shirt he'd had on to visit royalty, but the tie and cufflinks had gone missing. He cleaned up well, but it wasn't his default setting. She began working on the buttons, unwrapping him with the same anticipation as when she lifted the puffy white paper that covered the top layer of a box of chocolates. Anticipation. Reveal. Then heaven. Her lips found the spot right below the notch of his collarbone. He made a thrumming noise in his chest that went straight to her belly. Heat suddenly pooled there and every other idea fled from between her ears.

“I need you. Now.”

She pushed against him, her breasts aching to be touched. She slid her hands beneath his shirt, his smooth, taut skin quivering to life beneath her fingertips. She pulled the shirt loose and he threw it aside. Their lips met again in an ecstasy of heat. She could feel the evidence of his arousal and fumbled for his buckle.

“I'm not so certain of my control right now,” he said hoarsely. “This might not be the best idea.”

His face was nearly blank, as if he was holding back. But she was too far gone to care. “Bring it.”

“Are you sure?” The buckle gave, and he moaned.

“Do you want me to sign a waiver?” she asked wryly.

He stood, lifting her with him as if she was no more than a doll. Lexie's insides felt electric, pulsing with the need to have him then and there. Her legs wrapped around his waist—an interesting position but the
wrong
position for what she really wanted. “Bed. Now.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

They left a litter of clothes behind them and somehow picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses Lexie had got when she first arrived at the palace. Not that Lexie really wanted wine now, but there was something decadent about sex and Cabernet in the afternoon.

But they never got to it. They had barely pulled the cork out before Faran set the bottle aside, losing interest. He prowled across the coverlet, bending to kiss the soft part of her stomach. His lips and beard made an entrancing combination of scratchy and silk. Her muscles tensed, laughter bubbling as his tongue found her navel.

“You taste good,” he said. “Sweet.”

And then he nipped her. It was soft, hardly painful, but the sting of it rippled through her, subtly arousing. Instinctively, her knees flexed, giving access lower down. His teeth and tongue found more flesh, teasing her in ways both familiar and new. He'd learned a few tricks she didn't expect, though any surprise she felt immediately melted in a puddle of sensation.

He applied a condom and eased into her, filling her deliciously, driving out every unhappy thought from her head. It felt different with him on top. She was less in control, but it didn't seem important. She wanted him. Lexie moved to meet his thrust, welcoming the strength and desire that seemed to flow from his massive body into hers. She reveled in his sculpted form, enjoying him as much as an artist as a woman.

And then the pressure inside her began to build, unraveling thoughts and images into a kaleidoscope of color and sensations. Need coiled up her spine, urgent for relief, bringing cries to her lips that only seemed to spur Faran on. He drove her to the brink and backed away again, teasing her with caresses, suckling her breasts and driving her mad with a game of delay and retreat.

Until eventually, he could take it no longer. His rhythm changed, quickening and deepening. She grabbed hold of his arms, planted like oaks to keep her free of his weight. They felt utterly masculine, roped and corded and moist with the strain of his exertions. Control slipped, all tethers to reason flying apart. Desire thundered through her. She cried out, not sure if she was falling or flying. She felt his answering response, a triumphant cry that deepened to a growl.

Time stretched out a delicious, incalculable length. At last, she fell back, wrung out and with no more will than a leaf circling on a summer pond. Pleasant sensations wafted through her like the pure notes of a scale. She was relaxed. Utterly. Entirely at peace.

“Faran,” she whispered, touching his hair.

He rose up from where he lay beside her, straddling her again. While she had not minded his limbs caging her a moment ago, it felt confining now and she tried to squirm to a position that gave her more room. Something in the way he moved was different. It was and was not the body language of a human lover. At least a little of it belonged to the wolf.

Her bliss evaporated as apprehension prickled her scalp. “Faran?”

He eased down as if to kiss her, but he went to her throat instead of her lips. She felt the scrape of whiskers, the soft hot press of his mouth, and then suddenly she felt teeth. Not human teeth, but long, fierce fangs denting her skin. One snap and her flesh would be gone.

Lexie's heart hammered so hard she felt dizzy. The feeling in her limbs deserted her, as if every nerve ending was focused on her vulnerable throat. Lexie made a high, keening sound she didn't even know she possessed.

Then the fangs pressed in. It hurt—not like his love nips but a real knife of hot agony. Her breath sawed in like a dying woman's, squeezed by terror. A warm trickle of blood coursed down her neck. Lexie tried to summon a breath to scream, but then the pain was gone, replaced by the velvet of his tongue licking up the blood. “No one touches you but me,” he murmured, his voice more rumble than speech.

Lexie's brain froze, fury and horror struggling for mastery. She lashed out, the thump of her fist laughable against the enormous plane of his hard muscles. He didn't laugh or try to stop her. Instead he rolled, pulling her on top of him.

She moved to strike him again, but jerked to a stop. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, but she could see the wolf in him now, naked though his features were the same, familiar Faran. A dual response flared in her. Unexpectedly, the raw wildness was jaw-dropping, burning hot sexy off the charts. Her inner core ached with possessive heat. She'd seen hints of this side of him before, but now it raked her with claws bared—and she wanted it. But more than that, she knew without a need for words that the bite was the wolf's response to the threat against her. He had marked her for his own.

At the same time...there were the teeth. On her throat. Biting. That was exactly the nightmare that had made her hop a plane out of Paris.

Her neck throbbed with every beat of her heart. Tension had set her trembling, but she stiffened her joints. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew running would make her look like prey.

“You should warn a girl before you bite her like that,” she said, keeping her tone light.

His eyes narrowed, as if language took extra focus. “I didn't know I would. I just needed to.”

Surging up from the mattress, he pressed his mouth to hers. The coppery tang of her own blood teased her tongue. He laced his fingers through her hair, holding her while he claimed her mouth again and again. A wildness rose up, a sudden white flame of heat. Where it came from, she didn't know. It was just there, boiling over, all but bringing a snarl to her own lips. She gave him a taste of his own medicine, catching his lip in her teeth.

With a stomach-dropping lurch, Lexie's world came into balance. With a violent, terrifying need, she ached to pull him into her, his blood, his heat, his seed—all that was Faran. She wanted to devour him and be devoured by him at once. She hooked a leg over him, pushing him back to the pillow.

An inner beast of her own had suddenly awakened. It had stirred when she'd skewered the anti-Kyle, but now it was fully awake. Primitive, fierce, it didn't need coddling or caution—all it wanted was to be in charge.

“Oh, yes,” Faran said with a soft laugh. “There you are.”

Chapter 20

F
aran opened his eyes. The wolf was satisfied, but his human half felt incredibly sheepish. He didn't normally think of himself as two separate beings, but there were times instinct and higher functions weren't on the same page. This was definitely one of them.

He'd promised to give Lexie full control of the bedroom. The wolf had gone for the classic dominance mating. Lexie had more than come along for the ride—he certainly didn't remember
that
much fire in Paris because the city would have burned down for sure—but the morning after was always the acid test.

It was early, but the bed was empty. Deep inside Faran, the wolf was curled up in a blissful, sated slumber leaving the rest of him to face the music.
Flaming fuzzy furballs
.

He slid out of bed, muscles burning with overuse. Right around three in the morning, he'd started to lose track of everything he and Lexie were doing. It was as if they'd been trying to catch up on all the romance they'd missed during their time apart. With interest. He grinned but then lost his smile when he looked at the empty sheets again. They were cold.

He pulled on sweatpants and shuffled out of the bedroom. Thank the gods Lexie was still there. She'd resumed her station on the couch, computer drawn onto her lap. She looked clean and groomed and good enough to eat with ice cream. And then he noticed she was wearing a turtleneck to hide what had to be ungodly bruises down her neck.

Faran experienced a moment of utter trepidation. She had that pencil in her hair again. Lately she'd proven handy with pointy objects. But that was only a metaphor for what she'd done to his heart once, and had every right to do all over again. All the caution he'd used to buffer himself from torment had been swept away by a possessive need last night. He'd laid himself bare, and this was going to hurt.

“Hi,” he croaked.

She twisted around to watch him as he circled the couch to stand in front of her. Her hazel eyes were wary. “Hi. I'm afraid I didn't go out and get anything to eat yet.”

The last time she had, someone had crept into the room. “Smart call.”

Words died on his lips. A cowardly part of him wanted to dive for the shower. Surely anything he had to say would go better when he was shaved and dressed. But stalling was just prolonging the agony.

“About last night,” he ventured.

Her lips thinned. “I don't know what to think.”

Here it comes
. “I know, I know.” He jammed his hands into his hair.

Lexie dumped the computer off her lap and reached forward, grabbing the ties of his pants. She dragged him onto the couch beside her. “Listen. I'm not an idiot. We're trying to control something here that can't be tidied up and served on a paper doily. Rules and restrictions don't go with wolves.”

His heart crashed to his feet. She'd given up on him. “Normally I keep good control. It's kind of all werewolves think about. When to let it out. When not to. I lost my pack young, maybe I didn't learn all I needed to, but I've kept working on it.”

He stopped talking right there. That babble was so not what he'd meant to say.

Her mouth turned down, but he couldn't tell what her expression meant. He could smell the stress in her, but not the exact cause. “I'm not blaming you. In case you hadn't figured it out with all the moaning and screaming, I had an amazing time. I mean, amazing with underscores and about a hundred exclamation points.”

“Only a hundred?” he said, reaching for a quip to hide behind.

At that her mouth curled up into a lopsided and very wicked grin. “You should come with a dosage limit just so I remember to take too much.”

“You mean
not
to take too much.”

“I meant what I said.”

Faran's whole body eased. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Okay.”

“But here's the thing.” She sat back with the heel of her hand pressed against her forehead. “I completely responded to your wolf.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“It's not. Or shouldn't be. But I liked it.” She covered her face. “I'm not saying this right.”

But Faran knew all about a person's shadow side. “You shocked yourself.”

She pulled her hands away, almost panting. “I was totally into it. What does that make me?”

He took her hand and kissed her palm, reveling in the taste and scent of her. “It makes
me
very lucky.”

“I stabbed someone yesterday. In self-defense, but still. What's going on? It's like I'm—I don't know, not acting like me.”

“Now I'm confused.” He released her hand, his stomach going tight with nerves.

“Oh, please. I'm not equating having sex with you with stalker psychos.”

“Thanks for that.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“Are you okay with what you've done?” he asked quietly.

“I'm pushing down every protective wall I've ever built around myself and it's scary.”

He heard the bald honesty in her words and was grateful. He could work with honesty. “Think of it this way, Lex. You've spent a long time healing. We connected before, but I don't think either of us was ready. I had an idealized view of what would happen when I found someone to love, and I didn't realize it wasn't going to happen according to the script in my head.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “Let me finish. We're both more experienced now. I've rattled around the world, seeing what matters and what really doesn't. You've come out from behind your walls. You're fighting to be who you were supposed to be when you first landed on this planet, before your brother's horror show.”

Faran took a deep breath. He really hated it when people gave him advice, so he hoped his little speech didn't suck. “You took the skewer and turned it into a weapon. You met my wolf head-on and made his head spin. And you're using your photos to help people you care about with the investigation. You're doing okay.”

Lexie swallowed. “You make it sound so natural.”

“It is. So is a touch of self-doubt. A little bit makes us check to make sure we're not fooling ourselves.”

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “Since when did you get so wise?”

He lifted Lexie's chin and kissed her long and slow and full of everything he wanted for her, from her, for them both. “Hey, I'm brilliant until it comes to my own stuff. That's when I'll need you.”

* * *

Having someone like Faran in her corner meant the world to Lexie. Having that person tell her she was on the right path rated an entire star system.

Accordingly, Lexie felt far steadier than she had before they'd talked. Filled with fresh determination, she tapped the computer back to life to get some work done while Faran showered and dressed. The screen filled with an image from the reception. It wasn't a great one, just a general reference shot she'd taken to show the mass of glittering humanity who'd shown up to celebrate. Sometimes it helped to remember who had been sitting with whom.

Her gaze caught on a pair of men talking in the background. She zoomed in on them, folding her legs to boost the screen to a better angle. One figure was Prince Leo, champagne flute in hand, the other was Gillon. They were chatting, heads bent together. A conspiratorial pose if ever she saw one, but a prince talking to a security guard in a public place was hardly a hanging offense.

Except—Gillon's eyes were reflecting like a dog's. She'd passed over it before, not picking out the odd effect among the glitter of jewels and crystal chandeliers. It was creepy enough to raise Lexie's skin to gooseflesh. She began flipping through the crowd shots, looking for that one tiny detail. In every one, there were a few people with glowing yellow eyes. She clicked on the folder of the banquet photos. She saw the same inhuman faces, and this time one of them was serving the royal table. There was only one possible conclusion: those were the fetches.

That's why they wanted the photos
. She'd heard stories about supernatural creatures that couldn't be photographed. The truth was, they showed up all too well. There were details that couldn't be hidden on film.
I wish I'd taken some photos during the showdown at the reception.
It would have been interesting to see how many of the Vidonese guards weren't human.

The bathroom door opened releasing a cloud of steam and a soapy smell. Faran's feet padded from the tiles to the carpet. He wore nothing but a towel, his wet hair plastered down and dark with moisture.

“Look at this,” Lexie said, trying to keep her mind on the computer and not on his water-flecked skin.

He bent over the back of the couch, his freshly shaven cheek touching hers. “What am I looking at?”

“The people standing around Leo. Look at their eyes.”

She began clicking through a series of pictures. In every shot of Leo, there were always one or two fetches nearby, often right at his elbow. One photograph could be explained away, dozens could not.

A random memory bumped her consciousness. “Leo came up to me the night of the reception. It was when everyone was leaving the hall.”

Faran's breath fanned her cheek. “What did he do?”

The prince had handed her the coiled electrical cord and she'd thought nothing of it. “He stood right next to the ring case. It would have been too easy to take the ring and give it to Gillon for safekeeping.”

“In other words, means and opportunity were right there.”

“But what about motive?” Lexie countered. “Why would he be at the middle of the conspiracy? He's already a prince. What more does he want? If he's working with the fey, it can't be because he hates nonhumans.”

“All we know is that he's not afraid to use the fey to get what he wants.”

“To be king of both Marcari and Vidon?”

“And to get back at his brother? In case you hadn't noticed, there's a sibling rivalry there the size of the Mediterranean. The fact that the fetch who attacked you looked like Kyle—that had to be a royal
up yours
.”

“But how...” Lexie floundered, beset by a vision of Prince Leo in wizard robes, bringing a fetch of his brother to life. “How is he doing all this?”

Faran's face darkened. “Well, he's not working alone. That much is certain.”