Shadow of the Wolf

Chapter Two

Christopher could barely contain his excitement. His mate was standing outside his home, staring up at the lit windows cautiously, her dark eyes somber. She was shivering with the cold, soaked to the bone, and still stubbornly refusing to enter. “Come inside.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

He would have found it amusing if her teeth weren’t chattering so hard. “You’re soaked to the skin and freezing. Would you rather stay outside and run the risk of getting sick, or would you like to come inside and get dry?” He would force the issue if she tried to remain outside, consequences be damned.

She studied him warily before nodding grudgingly. She stepped over the threshold and into the warmth of the house.

He pointed towards the floor. “Strip. Drop your clothes there. I’ll be back in a moment with blankets and towels.”

She actually growled at him before tugging off the poncho.

Satisfied that she was following his commands, he turned away, heading into the laundry room for some clean towels. He hadn’t had a chance yet to fold laundry that evening, and now he was grateful for it. He toweled himself off and tugged on a pair of jeans, hoping that covering himself would make her more comfortable in his home.

He strode back out into the kitchen and froze, every single thought driven out of his head. She stood there clad only in simple white cotton, but that cotton was drenched, clinging to her skin like the finest silk. He could see the dusky color of her nipples through the cloth, the thatch of dark hair at the apex of her thighs.

One hand went to cover the sweet triangle between her thighs, the other reaching up to cover her breasts. “Towel. Please.”

He stalked towards her, putting every ounce of seduction he knew into it, gratified to see her fingers trembling from more than the cold when she took the towel from him.

“Follow me.”

He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed him. He led her farther into the house, towards the fireplace in his great room. With a wave of his hand and a few muttered words, he lit a roaring blaze guaranteed to warm her through.

The crystal ball wasn’t the only “pre-programmed” spell in the house.

“Great.”

He turned to find her glaring at him. He reached behind her to the sofa, pulling the blanket draped over the back off of it and wrapping it around her shoulders. “What’s great?”

“Nothing.”

He could feel one of his eyebrows trying to climb into his hairline. “Why does that tone bother me?”

“You’re the wizard. You figure it out.”

He settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. “Why do I get the feeling you’re prejudiced against wizards?” And why do I suddenly think you aren’t one? A thought he hadn’t entertained. After all, he’d asked for another wizard for a mate.

Hadn’t he?

“Maybe because wizards are prejudiced against me.” She settled on the opposite side of the fireplace, her expression wary. He would have to see what he could do to remedy that.

But for now he would deal with the first issue. “Why would wizards be prejudiced against you?”

She licked her lips, and everything male in him stood at attention. He didn’t hear her reply, too focused on what that pink tongue would feel like lapping at the head of his now aching cock.

“Hello!” The snapping of her fingers brought his attention back to the rest of her face. “Do I want to know what you were thinking just now?”

“Do you like chocolate syrup?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Do you like chocolate syrup?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then no.”

The wary look was back in her eyes. “Alrighty then. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Borrow my phone? Why?”

“To call for someone to come and pick me up, obviously.”

When hell freezes over. “Perhaps after we’re dry?”

“I could have them bring over clothes. And I need someone to take a look at my car.

It broke down on the road, and why am I telling a complete stranger all this? You could be an axe murderer.”

He laughed. “I’m not, I promise.”

“I’m sure all axe murderers say that right before they break out the axe.”

He snorted, thoroughly amused. She was snuggling deeper into the blanket, the heat warming her through, her teeth chattering less and less. “Getting a tow truck out here during this storm would be a true feat of magic.”

She sighed and propped her chin on her hand, looking forlorn. He wanted to snatch her up and cuddle her close, but there was no way she was ready for that yet. “True.”

“Perhaps I could take a look at your car after the storm passes.”

“Perhaps you could.” She jumped when Alasdair landed in her lap. “Oh!” She reached out and tentatively petted Alasdair, a delighted smile on her face. Alasdair, the shameless thing, purred in obvious delight before settling down. “Your familiar?”

He nodded, hoping his pet would put her at ease in a way Christopher seemed incapable of doing. She seemed to like the cat, and Alasdair certainly seemed to like her back.

She opened her mouth, her brow furrowed, before shaking her head and clamping her lips closed.

“Go ahead and ask. I promise I won’t bite yet.”

“Yet?”

He merely smiled. She’d find out sooner rather than later if he had any say in the matter.

“How did you… I mean, Grammy said that shapeshifters were a myth.”

He watched her, the play of emotions over her heart-shaped face. “They are.”

“Then, how?”

“How do I become the wolf?” She nodded. “Simple. I’m—”

“Christopher Beckett.” Her eyes widened in shock.

He grinned, unable to hold back the feral satisfaction and deep longing to finalize the cementing of their bond. She knows my name. It really is her. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “How did I know that?”

He needed a diversion. It was too soon to give that part of the game away. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” The wistful hunger on her face drove him to his feet.

“Enjoy the fire. I’ll return momentarily.” He didn’t want his new mate catching cold before he’d had a chance to claim her. “Don’t move; I don’t want you getting sick.”

Besides, he planned on adding a little something that would ensure she’d still be there come morning.

Lana moved her legs, thinking perhaps it would be better to grab her wet clothes and make for the hills, but the warm weight of the purring cat held her in place. Deep gold-green eyes slit open, staring up at her with lazy arrogance, daring her to move.

“Like master like familiar, huh?”

Speaking of the “master”, how in the hell had she known the man’s name?

Something was going on here, something that had her magic senses tingling. The thing was, instead of blaring the warning she expected, they were, well, tingling. She couldn’t get the image of him standing there, naked, half hard cock dangling between his thighs, his hand held out, his deep, purring voice demanding that she come to him. And oh boy had she wanted to come to him.

Was that it? Had the wizard wrapped some sort of lust spell around her? She shook her head. If he’d wrapped any sort of will-sapping spell around her he wouldn’t be a wizard. He’d be a warlock. And she’d gotten no sense from him that he was one of those spellcasters. They didn’t exactly have a shiny happy feel to them.

No, Christopher Beckett was definitely a wizard.

And what was up with the wonder dog routine, anyway? She needed to call her Grammy, needed to call her now.

She managed to get the irate cat off her lap with only a few minor scratches to add to the ones she’d picked up in the woods. Wrapping the blanket closely around her, she tiptoed farther into the room, looking for a phone.

She was surprised by the look of his home; she’d expected something a little more traditional in décor. Instead, his kitchen had been done in warm light cherry wood with slate floors, surprisingly warm under her bare feet. The countertops and backsplash were warm brown granite that picked up the colors of the slate tile. The stainless steel appliances and fixtures added a modern touch. The smaller appliances had all been cobalt blue; the walls were warm gold, almost the exact shade of Christopher’s eyes.

And the great room? He’d brought that gold color in on the contemporary armchairs that flanked his pale cream sofa. The cobalt blue she’d seen in the kitchen was on the walls, the color framing an incredible stainless steel and glass tile fireplace. The floors were a darker shade of cherry than the kitchen cabinets, the wooden coffee table and end tables lighter. She liked it. It was vibrant and warm, like the man himself.

Gah. She had to get out of here before she actually started liking him.

She found the phone one of the end tables, not far from where they’d been sitting on the floor. She dialed the number, knowing Grammy would somehow be expecting her call. Grammy could be a little weird that way. She always seemed to know when one of her grandchildren needed her.

She wasn’t wrong. “Hello, Alannah.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Hi, Grammy. Do you know anything about a wizard family named Beckett?” Grammy’s gasp was answer enough. The smile fled from Lana’s face. “Am I in danger?”

“No! Don’t … don’t leave. You’re safe where you are.”

Lana pulled the phone away from her ear and studied it. That was odd. “Grams. He’s a wizard. ”

“Sweetheart, trust me. No one will protect you better than … what did you say his name was?”

“Christopher.”

“Christopher Beckett.”

“Yes. Gram, somehow I knew his name. How could I know his name?”

“I knew this day would come, just not exactly when. You see, you answered the call.”

“What call?”

“He’s coming back. Hang up the phone and settle down. Call me in the morning.”

And Grammy hung up.

Lana hung up the phone and settled back in front of the fireplace, her mind reeling.

Why was Christopher Beckett so much more trustworthy than any other wizard?

She watched him stroll into the room, two mugs cradled in his hands, and damn near whimpered. She’d never thought a man’s walk could be an act of seduction before.

Christopher’s seemed designed to remind her of what lay under those jeans.

Like she needed reminding. The sight was forever burned into her retinas. She had the feeling her last words on this earth would be something along the lines of “Ooh, naked.”

“Here you are.” He handed her a mug before settling down right next to her.

Sneaky dog. “Thank you.” She took a sip and nearly orgasmed on the spot. “Holy mama.”

His smile was smug. “Good?”

“What did you put in here, liquid sex?”

He sputtered, hot chocolate spraying all over his hands.

She pounded on his back, trying to ease him through the coughing fit. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. It was just the image of how I would accomplish that.” He shook his head, picking up his discarded towel and beginning the process of cleaning up the spilled chocolate. “You have to be one of the most unusual females I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who howls at the full moon, buster.” She put the mug down and hugged the blanket closer around her body. “Speaking of which, you were going to explain that to me?”

He finished wiping his hands off on the towel. “Yes, I was.”

She waved her hand at him. “So? Spill.” Give me a reason to trust you other than Grammy.

“I think we’ve had enough spills tonight.”

“Har har. Funny man.”

He sighed. “Long ago, Andrew Beckett, my ancestor, managed to piss off a witch.”

Uh-oh.

“The long story short? He’d agreed to marry her, then backed out when another, more ‘suitable’ woman appeared.” The way his fingers made little air quotations was kind of cute. “The witch, angry over being jilted, cursed the entire Beckett family.”

“Why?” His story sounded sort of familiar. Where had she heard it before?

“Who knows why witches do anything? She chose to curse the entire line, and to this day, Becketts turn into the wolf.”

“It doesn’t seem like much of a curse to me.” She took another sip of chocolate.

“Andrew ate his bride six months after she gave birth to their son.”

She made a disgusted face. “Ew.”

“His son, knowing what had happened, tried to break the curse.”

“And?”

Christopher shuddered. “Let’s just say we’re lucky he procreated first since the spell, instead of tearing the wolf from him, sort of tore his insides from his outsides.”

“Double ew.”

“His son was determined to find a way to live with the beast. He discovered that, under the right circumstances, he could control the change. Gradually, with each generation, the curse became something different until we could live together with the wolf in peace.”

“So the curse became a blessing.”

“But not without a price.”

“What kind of price?” She yawned, the warmth of the fire and the decadence of the chocolate lulling her. Even the storm, so loud an hour ago, had subsided to a pounding rain, soothing her senses.

He took the mug from her hand. “Sleep. Perhaps in the morning you’ll be ready to hear the remainder of the story.”

Sleep sounds … good…

Christopher caught her before her head hit the carpet. A simple sleeping draught mixed with the late hour and the strain she’d been under had done its work. It would be morning before she could leave his side. He just hoped whoever she called was willing to leave her in his care.

He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not until he’d made her his. Definitely not before he’d dealt with the threat Cole represented. He barely knew her and already he would sacrifice his own life to keep her safe. She would learn that she could trust him with her very soul.

He picked her up, marveling at the warm weight of the woman in his arms. The scent of apples was now mixed enticingly with the scent of the chocolate, calling to him, seducing him more thoroughly than he’d ever been seduced by the practiced wiles of other women.

He carried her up the stairs, laying her in his bed, careful not to wake her. The last thing he wanted was her fear. He covered her carefully, kissing her forehead before heading out of the room and back down the stairs. He picked up her jeans, poncho and shirt, planning on washing them for her. She’d need something to wear in the morning.

And that reminded him. He went back upstairs and stripped the still wet underwear from her body, glad for the darkness. He wasn’t ready yet to see her completely bared for him in full light, or even pale moonlight. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to stop himself from taking her if he did. He carried them downstairs and threw them in the wash with the rest of her clothes. He leaned against the washing machine and hoped he’d done the right thing. She’d been shaking with more than cold; what he’d thought might be arousal was actually fatigue. She needed rest after her scare in the woods, and he was determined she was going to get it.

He got her purse from by the glass door and carried it into the great room. Opening it he dug out her wallet, determined to know the name of the woman fate had decreed should be his.

Alannah Evans.

The name shot through him with the force of an electrical shock.

It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

But there it was in black and white. Evans. Everything she’d said about wizards suddenly clicked into place.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“’Lo?”

The sleepy voice on the other end reminded him how late it was, but this was too important to let go. He had to know if he was right. “Gareth?”

“Do you know what fucking time it is, fucktard?”

Christopher sighed. “Alannah Evans.”

There was silence for a moment. “What about Alannah Evans?”

The wary caution in Gareth Beckett’s now very awake voice was enough to drive Christopher to his feet. “I need to know if she’s a member of the Evans family.”

“Give me a sec.” He could hear sheets rustling, knew his brother was climbing out of bed. “Right. According to The Registry, Evans … where’s she from?”

He checked her driver’s license. “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”

There was the sound of rustling pages, then the creak of an office chair. “Dude. The Evans family practically rules Philadelphia.”

Christopher groaned. “Wonderful.”

“Hey, at least she’s not a warlock.”

“Right. I need a mate who distrusts my kind, not a mate who tries to feed me to demons.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Did you say mate?”

Christopher gritted his teeth, cursing himself silently for the slip of his tongue.

“Yes.”

“A witch.”

“Gareth.”

“You? You mated a witch? ”

Christopher hung up the phone. Gareth could laugh his ass off all by himself, thank you very much.