Werewolf in Denver (31 page)

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Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson

BOOK: Werewolf in Denver
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Of course these thoughts brought her to Duncan MacDowell. He might be Were, but he was almost as wrong for her as Tom was for Penny. They disagreed on the most basic issues. They lived an ocean apart. And perhaps most important of all, Duncan had stated, loudly and publicly several times this summer, that he intended to mate with a human someday.

So, given all that, why did she yearn for him in a way that she’d never yearned for any other Were? Why did making love to Duncan feel as if she’d found the other half of her soul? And why had she died a million deaths watching him out on the field of combat this afternoon? Why had his refusal to let her comfort him cut so deep?

Now that she’d had time to think about that, she realized that he could have warned her off because he’d been thinking of her reputation. Although the Howlers had supported him in this uneven fight, they might not be crazy about their leader openly embracing the King of the Woofers.

She’d been concerned about that very thing herself two days ago when she hadn’t wanted her followers to know what went on in the cabin. But she no longer cared what they knew. Associating with Duncan was not going
to taint her in some way. If the Howlers thought so, then that was a rigid stance she couldn’t tolerate anymore and she’d step down from her leadership position.

Penny would say her thinking had changed because she’d found her one true love. Kate could almost see her lapsing into big-sister mode as she smiled indulgently at Kate and welcomed her into a secret club that she’d finally become eligible to join.

Had she, though? She still resisted the concept because it implied that she was Duncan’s one true love, his destiny, his fate. But he didn’t want to mate with a Were, which left her out entirely. In his own way, he was as dedicated to mating for political reasons as she was.

And yet he’d said he believed in love and destiny. She remembered that quite clearly. They’d been discussing it right before they shifted to go out and play in the snow and do…other things in the snow. Things that made her hot every time she remembered them.

But good sex didn’t necessarily mean he was her one true love or she was his, did it? All this love and destiny nonsense made her head ache.

“Penny,” she muttered, “it’s quite possible that you’re full of crap.”

With one last glance at the ballroom, she went upstairs to put on her sparkly clothes.

Chapter 20

Sniffer Update: @newshound—
As attention focuses on the glittering gala ending WereCon2012, rumors fly that Neil Stillman lurks in the shadows. #nervous

Before heading to the ballroom, Duncan answered all the messages on his phone except for one. Neil had shifted to human form, at least long enough to locate his phone and send a cheesy threat—
Watch your back, Woofer.
It could be an empty threat, too. Neil wouldn’t have the nerve to show up when a party was in full swing.

Neil had counted on his brawn to give him the victory. Because that hadn’t worked out, he’d look for some other way to catch Duncan at a disadvantage. Confronting him in a crowd made no sense.

Duncan left his room and was immediately hailed by other Weres coming out of their first-floor rooms. He’d thought he might be the only one wearing the costume of his native country, but he grinned happily at the sight of the Mexican delegate in a black sombrero and a Zorro-like outfit while his mate wore a tiered skirt, a
peasant blouse, and a flower in her hair. The Austrian delegate coming from the other direction was dressed in lederhosen and a hat with a feather in the brim.

All three asked how he was feeling. Although he still had a shooting pain whenever he put pressure on his injured leg, he assured them he was in fine shape. He’d get enough unwanted attention as it was.

They joined the other Weres streaming into the lobby and down the wide hallway to the open doors of the ballroom. Duncan recognized the sound of live music and wondered if the evening would include dancing. He could manage something slow without too much pain, and if he could lure Kate onto the dance floor, he could use the time to ask for a moment to talk privately.

The ballroom had been transformed. The former businesslike decor of folding chairs and lecterns had been replaced with soft lights, flickering candles, fine linens, and joyful music. He glimpsed colorful costumes from every land, from Russian pantaloons to Japanese kimonos.

Best of all, the delegates had left their logo T-shirts and slogan buttons in their rooms. Duncan noticed the small globes in the center of each table and wondered if they had been Kate’s idea. The spirit in this room tonight illustrated what they’d tried to convey in the mission statement.

He knew from a quick phone discussion with Howard that the mission statement had passed, but he also knew a vocal minority was unhappy about that. Yet as concerned Weres came over to inquire about his health, not a single one mentioned the controversy. It seemed that the delegates had checked their politics at the door so they could enjoy the evening.

Still, he braced himself as Angela Sapworthy approached. Her long black dress was sprinkled with what seemed like a million rhinestones. Her spiked hair was also covered with rhinestones. She would have blinded him in full light, but candles helped mute the effect. Still, she made his eyes hurt.

“Duncan MacDowell! May I have a word?”

“Which word did you have in mind? I know several.”

She tittered. “You’re so droll. How about the word
underwear
? Do you know that word?”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“Is it a word that goes with
kilt
? Or not?” She batted her glitter-covered eyelashes.

He should have a good answer for this question after all these years, but he didn’t, so he decided to stall. “Depends on the occasion.”

“What about
this
occasion?”

“MacDowell!” The Russian delegate who’d promised to buy him all the vodka he could drink approached with a glass in each hand. He acted as if he had no idea he’d interrupted Angela’s attempt at an interview. “I decided Scotch would be your preference.” He handed him one glass and kept the other.

“Aye, ’tis.” Duncan took the glass. “Thank you. You know, I still can’t pronounce your name.”

“Doesn’t matter. Call me Nick.”

“Then thank you kindly, Nick.”

“You’re most welcome. To WereCon2012!” Nick tapped his glass against Duncan’s.

“Hear, hear!” Duncan took a sip.

“To the Worldwide Organization of Werewolves!” Another tap.

“Aye! To WOW!”

“To…” Nick looked over at Angela. “I’m sorry. You don’t have a drink. You can’t toast with us if you don’t have a drink.” He put his arm around her. “Let’s go get you one.”

Duncan grinned as he watched them leave. That little save had been worth twenty drinks. He’d find Nick later and tell him so. And he’d eventually figure out how to pronounce his whole name.

He’d seen no sign of Kate. He’d been searching the room ever since he’d walked in, but no luck so far. He continued to watch for her as he talked to delegates about everything except their political views. He heard funny stories of shifting mishaps, and Were jokes cropped up everywhere. He even heard one that started out, “Three werewolves walked into a bar.” He wanted to tell Kate about that. Where the devil was she?

He desperately wanted to see her, but even beyond that, he needed to tell her something that was becoming more obvious the longer he stayed in this room. No matter what the future held, Weres would always require a gathering place that belonged to them alone. Their experience as Weres set them apart from humans, and they understood one another. Nonshifters, or the “shifting disabled,” as one Woofer had suggested calling them, just wouldn’t get it.

He wasn’t giving up his dream of a day when Weres and humans interacted with full knowledge that they weren’t the same species. That secret was causing too many rifts among families where interspecies mating had already taken place. But this special gift of Were solidarity had to be protected. He wanted to tell her that.

So far, however, she hadn’t made an appearance. Surely she wouldn’t hide in her room. She had more
intestinal fortitude than that. He hadn’t seen Elizabeth, either, and when he did, he planned to ask her where Kate was. He was growing impatient.

The band ended their latest song. And that was another thing. He’d heard several that would have been perfect for dancing. Other couples had taken the floor, and he’d been asked to dance more than once and declined. He was waiting for Kate.

The band broke into a jazzy little riff, and suddenly, there she was, climbing the steps of the dais behind her grandmother. A spotlight followed them to the microphone, in case anyone might miss their entrance. Considering the glittering picture they made, that wasn’t likely. Pride swelled in his chest as he watched Elizabeth and Kate take center stage.

Elizabeth wore a flowing, floor-length gown made of an iridescent material that shimmered in ever-changing colors as she moved. She wore an extravagant necklace of amethysts and diamonds, and those same gems dangled from her earlobes. Duncan appreciated the grace and style of her outfit, but he spent very little time looking at it.

He spent quite a lot more time staring at Kate’s red, formfitting dress covered in sequins. Elizabeth’s outfit was lovely, but Kate’s…The plunging neckline had surely drawn the attention of every male in the room. As if that weren’t enough to send their libidos into overdrive, the skirt had a slit up the side that ended dangerously halfway up her creamy thigh.

A ruby pendant dipped tantalizingly close to her cleavage, and she’d worn her hair piled on top of her head to show off ruby earrings that brushed her
shoulders. Duncan was so entranced that he took an unconscious step forward, as if he needed to reach her before any other Were got the jump on him.

Fortunately he snapped out of his daze before he made a complete ass of himself. He’d made a semi-ass out of himself, though, because those on either side of him gave him a knowing glance, and the Russian delegate winked. They knew. His besotted state was obvious for all to see.

Therefore he might as well confess his feelings to her soon and get it over with. Besides, if he didn’t act quickly, she was liable to have six more offers before the night was out. He couldn’t imagine that any single Were in the place wasn’t thinking of Kate in very lustful ways. Woofer or Howler, they were all normal male werewolves with typical reactions.

He hoped that Jake Hunter wasn’t here, but the minute he had the thought, he spotted Jake from the corner of his eye. Jake seemed as transfixed by Kate as Duncan was. And to top it off, the bastard was wearing a tuxedo. Duncan hoped that Elizabeth was right about the lure of kilts, because Hunter had bloody well dressed to impress.

Elizabeth took the microphone first while Kate stepped back. “Welcome to our party!” She lifted her arms and the crowd cheered.

Duncan listened for woofs and howls, but didn’t hear any. Good. He hoped the evening would remain apolitical, for everyone’s sake, especially his. This atmosphere could aid his cause by helping focus on the positives in their relationship instead of the negatives.

“I’m pleased to see that you’re all having such a great time,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you all for coming to WereCon2012. Stillman Lodge is honored to have
hosted all of you this weekend and we would love to see you all back here for WereCon2013!”

More cheers greeted that suggestion. Duncan wondered what his life would look like a year from now. He was beginning to hope it might be very different, but uncertainty still gripped him. So much depended on Kate’s reaction to what he had to say, and he couldn’t predict what it would be.

“I only need one more minute of your time,” Elizabeth said. “Before you return to a much-deserved celebration, please give a round of applause to the person who worked very hard to make this conference happen, my granddaughter Kate Stillman!” Stepping back, she motioned Kate toward the mike.

The applause was deafening. Instead of howls or woofs, the air was pierced by loud whistles and cries of
“Kate, Kate, Kate!”
Duncan was positive he’d made an ass of himself, because he was surely the loudest of them all.

“Thank you all.” She swallowed and swiped her fingers quickly under her eyes. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice husky. “This weekend has surpassed my wildest dreams. And it couldn’t have happened without my grandmother.” Turning, she started another round of applause for Elizabeth, who came back to the microphone and slipped an arm around Kate.

Elizabeth leaned toward the mike. “Now go enjoy yourselves!” As the band played another catchy sequence, both women started down the steps.

Duncan had already begun to move. He probably shouldered a few male Weres out of the way as he headed for the base of the steps. Too bad. When they reached the bottom, he planned to be there, and he would beat Hunter to the spot, too.

He made it just ahead of the Alaskan. Glancing back at him in triumph, Duncan turned toward the steps and offered his hand to Elizabeth. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

“Thank you.” She eyed his kilt. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” With a smile she squeezed his hand and released it before stepping toward Jake. “Mr. Hunter! I’ve heard so much about you this weekend, but we haven’t had a chance to talk. How would you like to get me a drink?”

Duncan made a quick mental note to thank her for that later. But right now, he had to concentrate on Kate. He held out his hand to help her down the steps. He wasn’t even sure she’d take it.

But she did, her gaze locked with his as she descended the steps. “Nice kilt, Woofer.”

His pulse leaped at the warm glow in her blue eyes. “Nice dress, Howler.” The band was playing a waltz. He would have preferred something a little less taxing, but he’d take it. “Can you dance in it without causing a riot?”

“Can you dance in your kilt without causing one?”

“I couldn’t say, lass. The sway of a kilt does tend to cause some excitement.”

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