Wolf Fever

Chapter 13

CAROL DRIFTED IN AND OUT OF NIGHTMARE WORLDS OF wolves and fighting, of teeth bared, growling and snarling, and of hackles raised, noses wrinkled, and amber eyes narrowed. Of the painful bite that changed her life forever. And then as if that wasn’t bad enough, she relived the pain jabbing her in the arm, the freezing cold and sticky wetness, her eyes burning, and exposure, naked to the spring chill.

A whimper escaped her lips, and strong arms pulled her to a hot, hard body. She tried to recall when she’d felt those arms wrapped around her last in her drug- induced foggy conscience. She remembered hurried footfalls, the aroma of apple pies still lingering in the air… home. And… Ryan. That’s who had taken her from the cold and held her close, heating her chilled skin with his warm clothing and with his even hotter body. And now?

She smelled his unique scent, his maleness, the wind in his hair, the peach soap on his skin. Her peach soap? Had he showered using her shampoo?

No. She vaguely remembered him trying to rinse the soap from her eyes. The burning misery. She’d tried to cooperate. She really had tried. But her eyes had stung too much to oblige. Her brain had turned to mush again, and she’d slipped into darkness with no way out.

Then Lelandi had spoken softly to her, the noisy hair dryer nearly drowning out her words as Carol had tried to hear them. “You’re a match, dear Carol. You just need to ensure Ryan sees it before it’s too late.”

It was already too late. How could Carol love someone who didn’t trust in her abilities? Who believed she was lying? Or was just too dumb to know the truth?

She recalled the onions and garlic, the smell of the man who had kidnapped her, the feeling of hopelessness, of wanting to fight him off but being unable to. She tried to wriggle free and whimpered softly, attempting to cry out, to tell Darien and his brothers and Sam where she was. But then the crackle of gunfire sounded and she gave a small gasp.

“Shh, Carol, you’re safe. In your bedroom. With me, Ryan. You’re safe. Sleep.” Ryan’s words were sleepy, soothing, and masculine. His arms wrapped tighter around her, anchoring her to him, her lifeline, her protection.

She took a deep breath of him, blocking out all other memories and settling against his solid form. She felt a whisper of his warm breath against her hair and knew that if heaven existed, this was it. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could convince the stubborn man of science to open his mind to another world.

She cuddled with him, his solid chest pillowing her head, his heart thumping with a steady beat against her ear, the heat of his body warming hers. His hand stroked down her back, lightly, tenderly in a comforting way. She purred like Puss, mesmerized with Ryan’s gentle touch. And could have stayed like this forever.

Hell, Ryan really was trying to be a gentleman here, but the way Carol’s fingers spread across his chest with a feather-light touch, the way she snuggled closer to him, one leg slipping over his, the way she softly purred like a kitten in ecstasy, he was having the damnedest time keeping their relationship strictly impersonal.

Her T-shirt had risen again, and her soft naked belly was pressed against his hip, her bare leg touching his thigh. Was she still so out of it from the drug that she had no inhibitions? Or did she really want him, like he was dying to have her?

He let out his breath in a heavy sigh. His job was to guard her body, not ravish it. After what she’d been through last night and five months ago, she needed to feel secure and protected. So why the hell did he have to keep reminding himself of that?

Maybe because her silky smooth leg had slid up his thigh even further and was pressing lightly against his arousal. That’s why.

“Carol?” he whispered.

She didn’t respond. He figured she was asleep and wasn’t even aware she was putting him through all this torture. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep for what was left of the early morning hours. Like that was going to happen while he kept his arm wrapped around the half-naked siren and she clung intimately to him.

The issues of her psychic business were quickly taking a backseat to his desire to have her—as a wolf would have his mate.

But then, Carol’s fingers teased his chest more than once, and he was sure she was waking up or already fully awake.

“Carol?” he whispered again.

“Hmm,” she finally said, and cuddled closer. “Do you ever wish you were human?” she asked softly, almost as if she was afraid to propose the question.

Ryan raised her face and gave her a dark smile. “I am human. What’s on your mind?”

She looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes, questioning, enticing. “I just wondered if you ever wanted to have sex with a werewolf but couldn’t because then you’d be mated for life.”

“If I wanted to have sex with her, I’d want her for life.”

Carol’s fingers swept across his heated skin again in a tantalizing caress, and now that she was awake and fully aware that he was with her nearly naked and not in the least bit bothered by their close proximity and intimacy—

“Well if you were human—all the way—you could have a werewolf lover with no consequences,” she continued, her words still spoken in a hush, as if she didn’t want the world to know she was awake or that she was speaking to Ryan or even what she was speaking about.

“True.”

She rested against him in silence for some time, as he stroked her soft hair, his body hardening, his desire for her growing, despite his efforts to keep his burgeoning craving to have her in check. She wasn’t making it easy. Considering her quickening heartbeat and the subtle changes in the sweet scent of her, the hint of arousal—and even the way she touched him and stroked him softly, playing with him—she had to be feeling something for him also.

“I wonder how Sam and Silva do it,” she said under her breath.

“Pardon?” He could guess where this was going, and he was instantly interested, as long as she knew what she was getting into and was just as willing.

“Nothing.”

“Do what, Carol? You brought it up,” he pressed, hoping he wouldn’t scare her off with his enthusiasm.

She cleared her throat and whispered, “As hot and heavy as the petting is getting between them even in public, I wonder how they can hold back.”

“Maybe they aren’t.”

“You mean that they’ve already done it? Consummated the relationship? Are secretly mated?”

His fingers paused on her hair. “They’d let everyone know if they’d mated. No, I’d say they haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

“Oh.” She had to have gotten the picture.

“It’s perfectly acceptable.” He wanted to push her onto her back to demonstrate just how far werewolves could go with one another before being committed as mates, but he was still afraid she wasn’t ready. “We aren’t talking about Sam and Silva here, are we?”

Her face flushed with color, and her fingers grew still.

“I have to admit I’m a bit surprised. But not in the least bit… unwilling.” When she didn’t respond, he thought he’d scared her off, that she hadn’t had that in mind, that she was only curious about Sam and Silva’s situation. He had to admit that because she was newly turned, werewolf relationships might still be a mystery to her. And he felt a bit of a cad, believing she had wanted him.

She didn’t say anything for so long and was so still—barely breathing, her heart still beating at an increased cadence—that he wasn’t sure how to rectify the situation.

Before he could speak, she whispered, “Someone might hear us.”

If he could have, he would have whisked her away to somewhere private, away from Darien, his own family, and the world. But, if she was willing… hell, who was he not to satisfy her cravings?

That’s when he rolled her onto her back and captured her mouth with his, intending to kiss her so thoroughly that she wouldn’t be able to make a sound. The only thing he regretted was that they didn’t have time to luxuriate in the feel of each other, to make the experience last.

But she seemed to be of like mind and parted her lips for him, opening to the curl of his tongue as he seduced hers with his, her fingers sifting through his hair, his hands holding her face in place, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. A soft moan escaped her throat, spurring him on.

Feral and ardent, from the moment their lips and tongues touched, he felt his blood sizzle with heat and desire. His arousal pressed against her waist, and she released his hair and swept her hands down his naked back, skin to skin, her touch leaving a fiery wake in their path. With his mouth greedy on hers and her response just as fiercely passionate, he felt her nipples beneath her cotton T-shirt bud against his chest, hard, tantalizing, aroused.

He meant to move aside her so he could cup a breast and feel the delectable nipple, but she spread her legs, and he found himself resting between them, a dangerous invitation to sex and consummation and mating.

And for the first time, he truly wanted it. With her. For all time. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe never.

Her lithe body arched beneath him, pressing against him to solicit his touching that most intimate of all spots. He swallowed a deep-seated groan and tried to keep his thoughts intact. No consummation. Just pleasure, even if it killed him.

He moved over, straddling her soft leg, still trapping her, leaning against the mattress so he could pull off her shirt. And when he’d freed her of the fabric, he caressed her now swollen breasts, which were flushed, the nipples like dark cherries begging for a kiss. His tongue teased one, and she closed her eyes and clamped her teeth shut against another moan.

And then his fingers dipped into her sweet sheath, hot, wet, erotic, but he quickly silenced another of her moans with a deepening kiss. Her fingers dug into his buttocks still covered in cotton boxers, her body writhing against his fingers, arching, pleading for resolution. His fingers continued to ply her with caresses, stroking, then thrusting inside her, while he watched her shuttered gaze and parted lips, heard her shallow breaths, and felt her fingers clinging to him.

Unable to help himself, he rubbed the erection straining in his boxers against her soft naked thigh. Bone-hard, wanting, thrusting, he felt burned to the core by white-hot heat as he pressed for deliverance.

Carol absorbed every feel of him, from the way his fingers worked miracles on her nub to his erection thrusting against her thigh. God, she wanted him inside her where everything had turned to aching, molten lava. She craved release and begged for it, pushed him to hurry and finish it before she died an exquisite death from wanting. Without being able to hold onto the rising tide of pleasure, she came, the climax filling her with a rush of satisfaction, her breath ragged, her body hot and flushed and sweaty—and sweetly satiated.

Ryan’s face was dark and flushed, his breath hurried, his eyes smoky brown, and his heart beating as if he’d run for miles as a wolf. She exhilarated in the feel of his touch, his wildness, yet gentleness, too, the fact he wanted to pleasure her and would keep it quiet.

He was the hero of her dreams, the fantasy in the novels she so loved to read, the kilted warrior who’d somehow lost his kilt and wore instead a pair of boxers. Which wasn’t right. A Highlander went without. She slipped her fingers down his backside and underneath his waistband and squeezed his buttocks, soliciting a groan from his lips.

But then she tugged at his boxers, and he hurried to slide them off. Then he was all hers. She ran her hand over his rigid length and felt it jump in her hands, tightened and stroked and smiled as he reached up to kiss her lips. But he was already so primed that he couldn’t last. With another stroke, she sent him reeling, and he came. She continued to stroke and marvel in the way he reacted, his eyes clouded with lust, his body jerking with completion, his calling her name in a husky whisper as if she was the one sent to save him.

He kissed her as if he never wanted to stop, his tongue again stroking hers, his hand caressing her jaw, her throat, her breastbone, her breast.

And then he groaned one last time, collapsed beside her on his back, and pulled her into his arms. They lay together in perfect bliss for what seemed like an eternity, floating, satiated, and warm in each other’s embrace.

“Have fresh sheets?” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse.

She frowned. Getting sheets out of the linen closet in the hallway adjoining the other bedrooms would be difficult to do without alerting anyone.

“In the hallway,” she whispered back.

He smiled, kissed the tip of her nose, and yanked the covers aside. “I’ll get them.”

She prayed no one would question him if he got caught.

“He was sleeping with her last night,” Tom said, his tone angry as he talked to someone downstairs in the great room of Darien’s home.

Ryan smiled and held onto Carol tighter in the bed in her guestroom. After a long night of whimpers and struggling against unseen forces and the most wondrous sex, Carol had finally settled down into a deeper sleep.

And yeah, he was sleeping with her—or trying to, anyway. He wondered now if the way she’d whimpered through the night, half-waking from nightmares, had occurred on other occasions. Was that what had been keeping her awake nights? But every time he had tightened his hold on her, she had relaxed and fallen into a more restful sleep. He didn’t need to stay up all night sitting in the recliner, not when he was able to wake at the slightest indication of trouble and shift quickly.

The nightmares she was experiencing gave him even more of a reason to stay with her like this, wrapped around her like a cocoon surrounding an awakening butterfly. A nearly naked butterfly, her T-shirt drawn midway up her waist, although he’d pulled it down for her a couple of times during the night. Until they’d pleasured each other in wild, abandoned, almost consummated sex. If she’d given him the go-ahead, he might have let his other head rule his actions. But now she again wore her T-shirt, and he his boxers, in case anyone dropped in to check on them.

“Hell, Tom, what did you expect from an alpha male leader? That he’d sit in the recliner dutifully? On the other side of the room?” Jake responded finally.

“Darien said—”

“Our brother can boss around our own people just fine. Others also. But Ryan, if you haven’t noticed, doesn’t take no for an answer. And he plays by his own rules.”

Ryan could almost hear the smile in Jake’s response. And for the first time, he noted Jake had called him Ryan, not McKinley. Even though alphas might not like having to butt heads with others, they still respected each other for having the gumption to stand up for what they felt was right. Had Ryan felt that Carol would have been more comfortable alone in bed, he would have sat in the recliner all night long. But he knew better.

She’d needed someone’s comforting touch. If not his, someone else’s. And he sure as hell hadn’t wanted it to be anyone else’s. If any of the beta males had stayed with her and insisted she consummate a relationship while she was half drugged, she might be a mated wolf by now. Not that he had any ready knowledge about what the bachelors were like deep down, but he didn’t trust any of them where Carol was concerned.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair, luxuriating in the silkiness. Until last night, when she had talked about the ordeal she’d been through with the psychiatrist— and even her own family not believing her—he hadn’t realized how having psychic abilities could have been a problem for her growing up. Now that she was also one of the werewolf kind, she had new problems and more adjustments to make. Neither of which he could comprehend like someone who was forced to live like this.

“He’s not right for her,” Tom persisted. “He doesn’t believe in her abilities. Hell, she deserves someone who knows just how special she is.”

That Ryan could agree with. She was special all right.

“Did you see the way he kissed her? Danced with her? If you want a chance at her, you’d better make your move.”

Tom responded, “I haven’t had dreams of her.”

Silence followed.

Dreams? That was another thing Ryan hadn’t believed in. The notion that someone dreamed about mating with the one that fate had chosen for them. Dream mating was something that Darien and some of his family had supposedly been cursed or gifted with. So now Tom thought that dreams would reveal the one for him also?

Pure nonsense.

“Darien might have had the ability, Tom. You can’t believe you will, too.” Jake’s tone was conciliatory, which surprised Ryan.

He hadn’t heard Jake speak like that to his brother since he’d been around the two of them. But he’d heard Jake didn’t believe in dream mating either, at least as far as it would involve him.

Someone paced. Then Tom said, “So why don’t you make known how you feel about Carol?”

Jake gave a short laugh, but it sounded forced, unnatural. “Seems I’m too late.”

“You can’t mean Ryan. Carol needs to stay here. For Lelandi. Carol’s one of our pack. She belongs here with us.”

Jake countered with, “She needs to have a mate first and foremost. If Ryan turns out to be the one, so be it. Maybe he can convince her to shift before it’s too late. None of us has had an ounce of luck with her. You know how dangerous it is for her not to get some control over her shifting.”

That was another thing Ryan wholeheartedly agreed with. Carol needed to embrace her werewolf half without delay.

The brothers quit speaking, and their footfalls died away as they headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Ryan kissed the top of Carol’s head in a protective, consoling way, unwrapped his body from hers, and began to leave the bed. She’d be getting ready for work at the hospital soon, and he intended to be with her every step of the way.

She tossed and turned, her hands searching for something. Him? Hell. Maybe she didn’t have to work today. He crawled back under the covers and pulled her into his heated embrace, vowing this time to control his sexual urges better.

Being a bodyguard had never felt quite this… pleasurable. He suspected it would never feel the same way again.

Later that morning, after he had breakfast with Darien, Ryan intended to call Carol’s mother about the situation with the psychiatrist. But he didn’t want Darien, his brothers, or Lelandi to know about it and get the wrong idea. If they heard he was calling to verify that Carol truly had had an early vision, he was sure that would put him in the doghouse. His investigative skills dictated that he ask Carol’s mother about the episode with the psychiatrist to learn how he’d treated her and if her mother believed in Carol’s abilities now.

“I’ve got to make an important call,” he said to Darien as he finished the last of his eggs and another slice of ham, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window and warming the room. Lelandi had relieved him a half hour earlier to sit in the recliner and watch over Carol while she still slept. Lelandi was using the time to catch up on her studies on behavioral psychology.

Tom and Jake planned to hang around the house guarding the ladies today. The brothers had taken up positions in the sunroom and in the den, so they would be safe for the moment.

Darien raised a brow and sipped his coffee. “I understand you slept with Carol last night.”

Alpha leader. Protective of his pack member. No beating around the bush. “She was experiencing night terrors.”

“Anything occur between you two that I should know about?”

Again, to the point.

“If you mean did we mate, no. She was drugged and consequently asleep for the most part, although her nightmares partly woke her half the night.” Darien didn’t need to know about the rest.

The doorbell rang and Tom hurried from the sunroom to get it, passing the kitchen on the way to the front door and giving Ryan a reproachful look. Darien smiled wryly.

A couple of minutes later, Tom carried a vase of roses to the sunroom.

Darien motioned to Ryan’s phone. “Go, make your call. We’re all here to watch over Carol until you return.”

“Take only a minute.” Ryan headed for the great room and then made his way to the back patio. Outside, he called information, got Carol’s parents’ home phone number, and punched it in.

“Hello?” a woman asked, sounding like Carol, only a little older, but with a voice a little sharper.

“Hello, Mrs. Wood. This is Ryan McKinley.”

Silence.

“I’m a private investigator out of Green Valley.”

“I know who you are,” she growled.

He paused. Hell, had Carol told her mother about him?

“I was calling about…” He rephrased the comment. “Carol told me about her ordeal with that psychiatrist, Dr. Metzger. About how—” The phone clicked dead in his ear.

Carol woke to the turning of pages in the guestroom and felt her legs pinned beneath the comforter, but Ryan was gone. Disappointment vanished when she glanced down and saw what was wedged between her legs. Her heart lifted. Puss. Her tabby: soft, happy, and sound asleep. She couldn’t believe Darien had allowed her cat to leave the kennel so he could stay with her.

A warm, fuzzy feeling instantly filled her with serenity. She smiled, pulled Puss into her arms and cuddled him soundly. Then she looked at Lelandi, who was seated in the recliner reading one of her psychology books. Lelandi was determined to become a psychologist. Darien backed her, but he had lots of stipulations about her work. No seeing males who needed her services alone unless she had his permission. He’d prefer it if only females wished her to help them with their life issues. But knowing Lelandi, if anyone made an appointment with her to discuss problems, she’d see them. With or without Darien’s approval.

Even though Carol had had a bad experience with a psychiatrist, she knew Lelandi would be perfect as a psychologist. She was a lot more open minded, for one thing.

Carol wished Ryan was still with her, although she was afraid things might have heated up between them again. And this time they might have gotten caught.

On the other hand, maybe he regretted what they had done. She tried not to think of it, but still, a little irksome worry fluttered around in the pit of her stomach. Seeing him this morning without letting on was not going to be easy.

Puss’s little motor began to rumble. He stretched a little and then continued to sleep, rolled up in a ball, eyes shut, breathing slight. Carol was thrilled to have Puss back. Sighing, she gave him another gentle squeeze.

What had changed Darien’s mind?

Lelandi looked up from her book and gave her a bright smile. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Except for my arm.” The skin was bruised and the muscle sore. Carol thought what a lousy nurse the man would have made.

“One of the men gave you a shot. The bruise should fade soon. Do you remember what happened?”

“Someone grabbed me from the shower. Stuck the needle in my arm first, though, and I felt drugged. Then he dropped me on the grass, I guess. I must have been slowing them down once Sam and Darien were in hot pursuit. Ryan found me, I think. And carried me back to the house. I recall him rinsing out my eyes, and then that’s about it.”

“Hmm. He stayed with you last night. Did anything… happen between the two of you?”

Carol raised her brows. “You think we had sex last night?”

Lelandi smiled a hint. “If you’re mated, Darien has to let the bachelors know you’re no longer available.”

“We didn’t do anything last night.” Not that Carol would admit to, but Lelandi was observing her closely, like a psychologist might observe a subject. She hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. “He slept with me?” Wondering how anyone might have known. Had they heard their moans and groans while having sex?

“That’s what Tom said. He peeked in on you sometime in the night to see if Ryan needed to be relieved from guard duty and found him with his arms wrapped tightly around you, his back naked. After Darien questioned Tom about every detail for what seemed an eternity— suspecting Tom was leaving some of the story out, Tom finally admitted he’d heard you whimpering and poked his head in to make sure Ryan was being honorable.”

Carol’s heart nearly stopped. Had Tom seen them in the throes of sexual frenzy? “Ryan was being honorable. Just helping to calm my night terrors.”

“About being kidnapped? Or something else? More visions?”

“Don’t remember.” Carol yawned. Then she sat up abruptly. “What time is it? I need to get to work.”

“Matthew and Charlotte are working extra half-days to cover for you. Darien doesn’t want you working today after what happened last night. Take a break, and you can go back to the hospital tomorrow.”

Carol slid out from under her sleeping cat, who stretched a little but didn’t bother opening an eye. She crossed the floor to the antique dresser, jerked the drawer open, and yanked out a bra and panties.

“I’m fine. And no way am I making Charlotte and Matthew work my hours.” She’d fought hard to get a job at the hospital. She wasn’t going to shirk her responsibilities now. “Why is Puss here?”

Lelandi hesitated to say.

“Lelandi?”

“Unofficially, and just between you and me, I believe Darien felt badly that he told Ryan he couldn’t stay with you and then you were kidnapped. But officially, he thinks that if you mostly have your life back the way it was before you were changed, you may accept our ways and shape-shift.”

To have her life back, she’d be living in her own apartment again. Instead, Darien had insisted she put her things in storage and close up her apartment. Her life as she had known it was over. Yet, she’d become accustomed to being with others—with Lelandi, with Darien, with his brothers. The thought of returning alone to her apartment and only having Puss to talk to didn’t appeal, either.

Carol shook her head and grabbed a pair of kitty-cat scrubs from another drawer. “If I shift, I won’t be able to shift back. Simple as that.” She entered the bathroom and shut the door.

“Did you see this in a vision?” Lelandi asked from the recliner.

“No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“You say Darien shifts and can’t change back. Is he the only one?”

“Doc also. Jake is in the same predicament as well. You’re really upset and want me to do something about it. But I can’t. I have no idea what’s happening. If everyone chooses to ignore me, I can’t help anyone.”

“We love to shift, Carol. It’s part of who we are.” But this time Lelandi didn’t sound quite so sure of herself.

Carol dressed, brushed her hair, and applied a little makeup.

When she opened the bathroom door, Lelandi smiled at her. “Ready for some breakfast? With Sam and Ryan chowing down with Darien and his brothers, there may not be anything left. Mervin’s down there also, but he eats like a bird.”

“I can grab a bagel and green tea at the hospital.”

“Nonsense. If you want just tea and a bagel, the guys probably haven’t touched those. But the bacon and sausages? I’m sure Tom will have to make another trip to the store.” Lelandi opened the door to the guestroom and walked into the hallway. “So, you’ve seen Darien, Doc, and Jake unable to shift and me agitated. Do you see me change and unable to shift back?”

“Not yet. But maybe you’re beginning to believe me.” Carol studied Lelandi’s petite frame as she walked down the stairs, wondering how long it would be before she began to show. Soon, she imagined, with triplets on the way.

“Did you tell Darien about the babies?” Then it dawned on Carol: maybe that’s why Lelandi was cautious about Carol’s warning visions. Lelandi had more than herself to think of now.

“He guessed before we had the games. He wasn’t happy that I had tried to keep it secret from him. He’d worried that if someone had tackled me, I might have been hurt. Or the babies would have been. So he told all the guys in a special meeting that if they as much as made a hint of a move in my direction, he’d oust them from the pack. That’s why he didn’t have the tug-of-war game. Afraid I’d want to participate and might injure myself.”

Carol had suspected as much.

Lelandi glanced back at her. “During the game, I figured everyone would be afraid of touching me because I’m Darien’s mate. I didn’t know that he’d warned them away.” Then she gave Carol another award-winning smile. “Alphas are like that.” She turned around and headed across the great room as Carol hurried to catch up. “I imagine Ryan will be the same.”

“He doesn’t believe in my second sight.” Carol shrugged. “Things wouldn’t work out between us.” Then she frowned. “Who else knows that Ryan slept with me last night?”

“I imagine at least half of the pack. Maybe more. Tom was pretty incensed about it. When he talked to Jake, he didn’t get the support he wanted, so he spoke to Darien and Sam. Sam told Silva, and you know how that goes. She means well, though. She wanted to warn the wolves of our pack that if they desired having you for a mate, they’d better do something about it. If Ryan wants you, same thing. He’d better stop resting on his laurels.”

Incredulously, Carol shook her head.

“I’m serious.” Lelandi pointed to the sunroom. “You have a dozen glass or ceramic vases, brass pots, and baskets filled with flowers. Rosie, at the flower shop? She called and gave me a list of names. Silva wanted to know who hadn’t sent you flowers and wangled it out of her.”

Carol sighed. “Isn’t anything sacred?”

“Rarely, in a pack. You know who didn’t send you flowers?”

“Tom, Jake, and Ryan.”

“Two of the three did. I have to tell you, I was pretty darned amused.”

Carol pulled Lelandi to a stop outside the kitchen where the men’s conversation had died. She’d made out Darien and his brothers, Ryan, Sam, and even that lame Mervin talking in the room before they heard Lelandi and Carol’s conversation.

Lelandi’s expression brightened. “Everyone but Ryan sent you flowers. Sure sign he’s in love. Darien did the same with me when I was injured.”

Ryan and everyone else in the kitchen had to have heard what was said. Every inch of Carol’s skin heated with mortification. But then she concentrated not on who hadn’t given her flowers—she figured Ryan wasn’t a romantic—but who had… Tom and Jake.

Lelandi leaned over and whispered to Carol, “Jake didn’t give me flowers, either, when everyone else did. I figured he was too cheap.” She straightened. “So there might be something to it, you think?”

Lelandi gave her a conspiratorial wink, and Carol realized Lelandi was doing her matchmaking business with her, just as she was always doing with Silva and Sam.

But what if Ryan and she were already a match? Or maybe this was just a test on his part. See if the female wolf is right for the alpha male leader. She was reminded once again that she really didn’t understand this werewolf business as much as she needed to, if she was going to make the right decisions from now on. With her head held high and her stomach flittering with unwanted jitters, she walked into the kitchen.

Ryan instantly caught her eye, and as hot as her face was, she had to have flushed crimson.