Hunger of the Wolf (4 page)

Chapter Five

Dismay was uppermost when Shilo heard the door open and looked up to find Dante standing in the door. It vanished immediately when she saw the gleam of amusement in his eyes and his lip quirked upward a notch at one corner.

She might have appreciated that smile at any other time. Even in her current mood and situation, her belly fluttered.

"Having difficulties?"

Shilo shot him a drop dead look. “No. I just decided to take a shower.” It popped into her mind to say something really nasty—as in, she was trying to wash the smell of dog off of herself—but she killed the impulse. As angry as she was that he'd brought her here without her consent, he'd said it was to protect her, and she was obliged to admit that he hadn't done anything to indicate otherwise—aside from tying her hands, which she couldn't really fault him for since he'd seen what she could do with them.

Anyway, she'd never been comfortable being deliberately nasty without provocation.

He crouched beside the tub and stared down at her. Blinking the water out of her face, she stared back at him, wondering if she was going to have to ask him to help her up.

His gaze started at her face, but it didn't linger there more than a split second before crawling down her throat, over her breasts—she didn't have to look down to know her bra was the next thing to transparent now—across her belly and then snagging on the wet hair between her thighs. She clamped her knees together when she followed his gaze and discovered her legs were still splayed from where she'd been struggling to find some leverage that would help her get up again.

His eyes were glittering when he met her gaze again, but this time it wasn't from amusement. Shilo swallowed with an effort, feeling as if someone had her in a chokehold. After a long, long moment, his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Are you done here?” he asked finally, his voice rough and gravelly.

Shilo was so focused on the shimmy in her belly it took her brain several moments to translate the question. She nodded jerkily, and he reached up to shut the water off. After studying her a moment as if trying to decide the best way to get her out of her predicament, he shifted and grasped her shoulders, helping her to sit up, and then moved his hands beneath her arms and he lifted her to her feet.

His hands lingered along the sides of her breasts a little too long to be purely accidental, but not long enough for her to pinpoint that it was deliberate. Shifting them to her waist, he steadied her as she stepped out of the tub. She stood on the bath mat, shivering and miserable and wondering how she was going to dry off. The image popped into her mind of him drying her as he took a towel from the linen cabinet, and her mouth went dry.

Instead, he draped the towel around her shoulders. “My three lieutenants are downstairs,” he said flatly.

She looked at him questioningly.

"I'm going to untie your wrists. I just wanted to make it clear that you won't be leaving until I say so. I won't take it at all well if you use that little ‘gift’ of yours on me.... And I can practically guarantee you
will
regret it if the impulse strikes you."

Oddly enough, despite the threat, she didn't feel threatened. It wasn't because she doubted for a moment that he was fully capable of violence—he was a lycan, after all, and yet she didn't really believe that he'd hurt her, she realized. Instead of telling him she wasn't actually capable, at the moment, of doing anything, she merely nodded.

Settling his hands on her shoulders, he turned her so that her back was to him and began working on the knots. “This would've been a little easier,” he said, after plucking at the binding for several moments, “if it wasn't wet."

She wasn't about to tell him why she'd gotten into the shower. If he couldn't figure it out and just thought she was peculiar, then he could just think that for all she cared. She let out a hiss of pain as he finally removed the thing and she could move her arms.

Dropping the wet rag into the tub, he moved to the door. “Dry off. We need to talk,” he said as he went out, closing the door behind him.

When he'd gone, she unhooked her bra, peeled it off, and hung it over the shower rod to dry. She'd just stepped into her panties when he tapped on the door again and opened it before she had time to object. She straightened abruptly, snatching her panties into place. He was holding the clothes he'd taken off of her, she saw. Snatching them from his hand, she turned her back on him and pulled the shirt over her head and straightened it before she stepped into the shorts.

He was leaning against the bedroom door, his arms crossed over his chest, as she came out of the bathroom. “Hungry?"

Shilo looked at him in surprise. “Yes,” she said finally.

Nodding, he shoved away from the door and opened it, waiting for her to precede him. She hesitated at the foot of the stairs, glancing at the front door. He settled a hand along her lower back, guiding her down the hallway toward the back of the house. She balked when she'd entered the kitchen and discovered three more men—lycans.

"This is Shilo McKenzie,” he announced when all three men abruptly stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at her.

Uneasiness wafted through her as she saw the unmistakable gleam of keen sexual interest in their eyes.

"The blond wielding the frying pan over there is Jessie."

It caught fire while he stared at her, favoring her with a slow smile that made her heart skitter to a halt before the effect was ruined by the stove fire. Grabbing a lid, he clamped it over the pan.

Shilo bit her lip, looking away as a cloud of black smoke rose up when he lifted the lid again to glare at the food in the pan.

"Burning the steaks again,” Dante murmured low, next to her ear.

Jessie turned to glare at him. “I tole ya it'd be better if I grilled them,” he muttered in self defense.

Ignoring him, Dante continued with the introductions. “The one butchering the salad is Kane, and Maurice, my second, is doing what he does best ... overseeing the other two."

Both men grinned at her, not the least put out. “I'm doing the potatoes,” Maurice contradicted, hitching a thumb in the direction of the microwave behind him.

Shilo managed an uncertain smile at each of them, wary and more than a little uncomfortable since the room practically wreaked of testosterone, but disarmed by their easy smiles and the camaraderie that seemed to flow between them as they worked. None of the three, as far as she could see, was exactly a wizard in the kitchen, but they didn't seem fazed by it. “Can I help?” she offered before she even realized she was going to.

"Yes,” Dante replied promptly. “You can help us eat it."

His hand, which she realized had never left her back, slipped to her waist, and he guided her out of the kitchen again and down the hallway and into a formal dining room. When he'd helped her into a chair near one end of the table, he settled beside her, at the end. A few moments later, Kane, Jessie, and Maurice began to ferry plates and salad bowls and glasses of iced tea to the table. Maurice took the chair at the end opposite Dante, Jessie to her right hand, and Kane across from her.

The steak was more rare than she liked, and a tad on the tough side, but flavorful for all that. There were a few moments of uncomfortable constraint before Dante initiated a conversation that seemed work related. Although she enjoyed listening to them, Shilo didn't make any attempt to take part in it. She always ate alone and wasn't accustomed to dinner table conversation, and in any case she couldn't ‘accidentally’ say more than she wanted to if she kept her mouth shut.

Dante didn't allow that to stand, however. “You said you were visiting the city?” he asked after a few minutes.

Shilo merely looked at him instead of answering. “Yes,” she said finally, volunteering nothing else.

"How long did you plan to stay?"

Shilo frowned at her plate. “A few days."

"And then you planned to return home?"

"Yes."

The men at the table exchanged glances. She was aware of it even though she didn't actually look at any of them.

A prolonged silence fell and this time it was more uncomfortable. Shilo was almost sorry for it—
was
regretful, not that she was sorry she'd refused to allow Dante to interrogate her, but it had been rather nice listening to them talk among themselves. It was almost, she thought a little wistfully, like sitting down to eat with a family.

The notion surprised her. She'd never really given a thought to what the ‘everyday’ life of a lycan must be like, but they could hardly go around as monsters all of the time. She supposed, particularly given the earlier discussion, they walked undetected among humans every day, worked with them, probably even socialized with them.

She curbed her curiosity, however. Conversation required give and take. She couldn't ask unless she was willing to contribute, and she wasn't.

"When did you first notice your gift?"

Shilo's head shot up at the question. She stared at Maurice. She supposed it could be considered a gift, but she'd sure as hell never considered it a ‘gift'. “You have a strange perception of gift,” she retorted finally.

Again, the men at the table exchanged glances, as if they could communicate with no more than facial expressions.

Or maybe they were telepathic?

"Are you ... telepathic?” she asked the moment the thought occurred to her.

Maurice's dark brows rose. “We're lycans."

Shilo reddened, feeling rebuked, though she wasn't completely certain that was what it was. She didn't pursue it. She wasn't certain why she'd spoken so impulsively to begin with. It wasn't a habit of hers. She'd learned it was far safer merely to observe and listen until she gained whatever knowledge she was looking for. Asking questions invited questions, and she was no good at all at fabricating believable lies to substitute for the truth, and she certainly couldn't tell the truth when the truth could always hurt her.

She was both relieved and further unnerved when they finally finished the meal and moved into the living room—all of them.

She took the chair Dante indicated, struggling to appear outwardly calm even though she was anything but relaxed. Maurice and Kane settled on the couch. Jessie took the chair opposite hers and Dante sat on the footstool in front of her.

"How much do you know about lycans?” he asked after studying her in silence for several moments.

"Enough,” she said tartly.

He tilted his head, studying her. His lips tightened after a moment. “All you want to know, is that it?"

That pretty much summed it up, but she decided against agreeing with him when he looked pissed off.

"The one who attacked you was a rogue."

Shilo eyed him with frank suspicion. “You said that. You're saying he wasn't ... connected to you in any way?"

He heard the disbelief in her voice, and he didn't like it. She could see it in his expression. Well, that was just too fucking bad! She didn't like being attacked either. She'd been minding her own business, not bothering anyone.

"It's against lycan law to attack or prey upon innocents,” he said tightly.

"Why were you there then?"

"I was tracking him. He was stalking you. I didn't know that at the time, however."

She studied his face, wondering why she believed him.

"You aren't going to ask me why he was stalking you?” he asked after another prolonged silence, looking more annoyed.

"I didn't think lycans had to have a particular reason."

His face darkened with anger that time.

"You know why lycans are drawn to you, don't you?"

Shilo turned to look at Maurice as he spoke for the first time. “Drawn to me?” she echoed in surprise. “I thought it was just random ... you're saying they ... you ... Why?"

"It's because you're a psychic. Your scent is ... unlike other humans. And it's far more appealing to lycans."

Shilo felt her throat close as that sank in. Angry tears blurred her eyes. “My gift?” she managed, feeling her chin wobble. “It's not enough I've been hunted.... “She broke off, swallowing against the urge to cry, realizing she'd said more than she'd intended.

But it just wasn't fair, she thought angrily! She hadn't asked to be born like this! How ironic was it that the one thing she had to help her fight off their attentions was the same damned thing that was drawing them to her in the first place?

"You can't go home,” Dante said after a moment. “He has your scent now. He'll follow you."

Shilo wasn't certain whether she didn't believe him or she just didn't want to believe him. “They never have before."

Dante's gaze was assessing. “Because you back tracked and managed to lose them, but that wasn't what you were trying to do, was it? You didn't know there could be lycans trying to follow you. Who has been hunting you?"

She wasn't about to answer that. The government almost certainly had a price on her head, especially considering she'd sabotaged their data banks and cleaned out the ‘company’ account when she'd fled. As far she was concerned they damned well owed her every penny of it. They'd stolen her entire childhood from her and any chance she might have had at a normal life, but they sure as hell wouldn't see it that way. “It was just an ex-boyfriend,” she lied a little sickly, “but that was a long time ago ... years."