Wolf Fever

Chapter 8

DISAPPOINTMENT SLID THROUGH CAROL WHEN RYAN asked if she wanted to leave the gathering. He didn’t want to hold her close and dance after all. He just wanted to get this charade over, question her to satisfy some stupid need, and leave Silver Town. Either that, or he had wanted to dance with her but only close, and beyond that, no deal.

And she realized then just how much she desired being with a man like Ryan.

What the hell. At least Ryan had wanted to dance intimately with her, unlike the way he’d kept Marilee at arm’s length. Carol let out her breath, pulled him close, and melted against his heated embrace, loving the way he felt.

She hadn’t been with a guy who stirred her up like this since she was a nineteen-year-old in love with a twenty-one-year-old cad, who had used her and thrown her away for a much hotter number after a few months. Come to think of it, that hotter number had looked similar to Marilee, with darker hair and eyes and long lashes.

Carol sighed deeply. She didn’t care if Ryan might be infatuated with someone who looked or acted like the masseuse. It was only a dance, after all.

Ryan didn’t say anything about Carol holding him close at first. He just responded in kind, moving her across the floor slowly, his body pressed indecently against hers, heating her all the way from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.

“Carol?” he finally queried, pressing the issue of leaving.

“Sure.” She began pulling away, figuring she might as well get this over with, if Ryan really didn’t want to dance with her. She’d show Darien she wasn’t going to be part of the nonsense of this gathering any longer. At least she hoped she could. He might have words to say about it.

“After we finish this waltz. Breaking off the dance after we’ve barely begun would be inappropriate.” His voice was husky and heated, and his eyes clouded with desire—or maybe just plain lust.

That’s when she noted his growing arousal pressed heavily against her thigh. It hadn’t been there when he’d first pulled her close. Maybe Marilee hadn’t intrigued him like Carol had thought.

She slipped her leg in between his in a suggestive way, rubbing against his erection. Teach him to want to hold her close in the beginning and not face the consequences. A throaty growl escaped his lips. She bit back a smile and placed her head against his chest so he couldn’t see the amusement on her face—and heard his heart beating at an increased tempo.

The smell of him—hot-blooded virile man, no fussy colognes covering up his delicious manly fragrance, just the woodsy scent of cedar, sage, and citrus—triggered an unexpected craving in her. And a reaction she didn’t expect… her hormones tumbled wildly, and a musky fragrance of her own drifted to her nostrils.

Her lips parted in surprise. She still couldn’t get used to being able to catch a whiff of smells so intimate that only wilder animals could normally sense them. She slipped one hand down his back and slid the other up his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the cottony fabric, every touch making them tense even harder.

His hands slid down her back, lower, until he was cupping her buttocks in a sexual way, leaning into her, making her wet for him. She almost laughed. So much for her attempt at enticing him to take notice. Ryan was an absolute wolf and well versed in the gift of seduction. Lelandi was right. With her, he was the perfect gentleman. With Carol, it was a whole different story.

If they hadn’t both been werewolves, she would have suggested they go to a hotel—in another town. Not that she’d ever felt that way about a man on a first “date,” but her wolf hormones must have had something to do with it. Or maybe it was just Ryan who brought out the desire in her. Except their kind didn’t have casual sex. The act was a pledge to commit as mates for life.

Too bad. A romp with a macho wolf like him would have promised much pleasure, she was sure.

“Darien doesn’t like it that we’re dancing so close,” Ryan whispered into her hair, but he didn’t make a move to distance himself from her, for which she was grateful.

The touch of Ryan’s heated breath on her scalp sent a new tingling sensation sweeping through her. “Hmm, I’ve never known you to care what he thinks.”

“Not so,” Ryan murmured huskily. “I respect another pack’s territory.”

She gave a short laugh. “Like you wouldn’t give up trying to solve Larissa’s murder, even though Darien didn’t want you here getting into his family’s business? You persisted until you had your man.”

Ryan’s hands moved to her lower back as if she’d hit a nerve. Sure, she’d solved the case through her psychic talents. Was it that he didn’t like that she, rather than he, had broken the case? Or was it strictly because of how she had been able to do so?

Fine, might as well take the conversation to something less sensitive. She didn’t want him pushing her away in the middle of the dance and acting as though she was too repugnant to touch. Maybe he felt that way, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to show that in front of all the others.

That’s when she noticed how nearly everyone was watching them, even those dancing on the floor.

Lelandi smiled at her as she passed by with Darien, dancing nice and close also. He was scowling at Ryan, big time. Silva smiled at her as she and Sam waltzed by, while he was behaving as though he was as irritated with Ryan as Darien was. Ditto with Tom and Jake standing on the sidelines. Tom’s hands were in his pockets, and he shook his head. Jake folded his arms and gave her the evil eye rather than Ryan.

Yes, she knew it was all her fault. She should have kept some distance from Ryan. She smiled and winked at Jake. His hard expression grew even harder still. Teach him to taunt her about Mervin being interested in her.

She didn’t have to see what the bachelor males thought of the situation. She just hoped they wouldn’t gang up on Ryan later and give him a rough time. Although as alpha as he was and as beta as they were, she figured they didn’t stand a chance.

“So what did you think of Marilee?” she asked him, her question an attempt at light and unconcerned.

Immediately, Ryan’s hands returned to Carol’s rump and he rested them there, the sensuous touch making her heartbeat quicken. So what did his reaction mean? He liked Marilee and wished he had his hands on her backside instead? Carol hated how she always overanalyzed people’s behaviors.

“Hmm,” Ryan said, and she didn’t like the way he said it, thinking he enjoyed being with Marilee more, like some horny male, as he continued to dance with Carol crushed against his chest, his leg locked between hers and moving at intervals to brush her mound in an enticing caress.

She could imagine him closing his eyes and envisioning he had that hot, sultry number in his tight clutches instead—the long, curly hair, the luscious glistening lips, the fluttering long, dark lashes… all together tall, dark, and bosomy. Not short, pale and… well, Carol had nice-sized boobs, too, but that was about it.

“She’s… not… my type,” he said slowly.

Carol glided with him across the smooth tile floor, trying to let herself just soak up the moment, but she couldn’t give up the gnawing notion that he liked the other women better. They were grays, had been born as such, and weren’t an enigma like she was. Why wouldn’t he prefer them to her?

When she didn’t say anything in response, he sighed. “She’s too… clingy, too… sweet, too…”

“Hot?”

He chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t hot. But that doesn’t mean I’m interested.” He lifted Carol’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone here tonight.”

Which meant what? She wondered if he felt a connection with her, maybe because of her solving the murder —not in the way he would, but that she could— like he did in his line of work. Like a fellow investigator, even though she hadn’t investigated anything. Maybe he didn’t really feel anything for the other women. Except that one was hot.

“Did you dance with Becky?” she asked, wondering what he thought of her. “She seems to need rescuing from Mervin.”

Ryan’s face turned dark. “What happened between you and Mervin?”

Not expecting him to question her about Mervin also, she pursed her lips in annoyance. And wished she hadn’t brought Mervin’s name up.

Carol shook her head. “Nothing happened between us.”

“You make a lousy liar.”

She stiffened her back. Didn’t matter that he was right, but she didn’t need him telling her so.

He immediately stroked her back as if attempting to placate her. “I’ll learn one way or another, Carol. It’s what I do.” His voice was back to being darkly seductive.

She harrumphed, although she admired him for looking doggedly into a situation until he discovered the truth. She just wished she wasn’t the focus of one of his bloodhound hunts.

“Didn’t you already scare the truth out of him?” she asked.

“I always get confirmation. That way I learn the real truth.” He slid his hands down her bare arms with a sensuous sweep, caught her wrists, and turned them to consider her skin, his touch gentle, concerned. “He didn’t bruise you.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Did Ryan suspect what had happened? At this rate, she figured the truth would come out anyway. Except she wasn’t mentioning the damned urge to shift. “He tried to stop me from leaving the house. That’s all.”

“All right. That’s what he said. And then? You decided to change into this?” He slid his hands down her back again, skin against skin, then lower, caressing her body beneath the clinging silk and leaving a sizzling trail of desire. “Why?”

She was still absorbing the sensual feel of his touch as she fought to respond with an intelligent reply, no matter how much he unsettled her—both with his words and actions.

“You know, if you really want a chance to have me for your own, you’ll have to quit questioning my motives all the time. And frankly, Chester Ryan McKinley, it is none of your business.”

He whispered against her ear, “Why would you think I’m attempting to pursue you?”

She smiled just a hint. “It’s your nature. You want what you can’t have.”

He gave her a husky laugh and moved his hands to her buttocks again. “If I wanted you, make no mistake, Carol, you would be mine.”

She chuckled and rested her head against his chest again. “I love a man with a sense of humor.”

“Hmm.” He continued to dance slow with her, his arousal throbbing with need—that she’d happily created—and his hands treacherously sliding over her buttocks in a sensual caress. If he didn’t want her, he sure was a master at deception.

She was beginning to think maybe he really was interested in her, and her psychic business was what still bothered him. Then to her disappointment, the music ended, and another man stood at her elbow, ready to dance with her next. She hoped he didn’t think she’d want to dance close with him, too.

But would Ryan rescue her and take her to the tavern instead, like he’d wanted to, or give her up to the guy who was now tapping his foot on the floor, hands on his hips, an annoyed expression darkening his face?

“Sorry,” Ryan said to the man. “She promised me two dances.”

She was shocked speechless and quickly snapped her gaping mouth shut.

The guy scowled. “But…”

The music began again, and Ryan pulled Carol deeper into the group of dancing couples.

“I thought we were going on our date next,” she said, amused that Ryan seemed reluctant to let her go.

“We are on our date. First here, then at the tavern.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a real date, and you’re making a lot of men angry.” She frowned up at him, really hoping he wouldn’t have a fight with the other men over her. Inwardly, she laughed at that. No one would have ever fought over her.

“They’ll get over it when I’m gone.”

Her heart hitched a little, when she shouldn’t have cared one bit. She should have known. Maybe he already had his sights set on a woman in his pack.

As soon as the music stopped, Ryan hurried her to the great room, his hand clamped around her wrist, moving at double-time. Thankfully, his touch didn’t force the urge to shift.

She was afraid to see who would come after them— Darien, his brothers, Sam—all intending to put a stop to it. But all that happened was the sunroom remained really quiet. No music, no conversation, just Carol’s heels clicking on the tile floor, headed toward the foyer as Ryan rushed her to the front door.

And then Darien’s harsh holler came from the sunroom, “Remember what I said, McKinley! Bring her back by midnight.”

Surprised he’d allowed it, she wondered if Lelandi had convinced him to let her go with Ryan.

“I feel like we’re eloping,” Carol said, frowning at Ryan, barely able to keep up with his long stride while she teetered in high heels as he hauled her out of the house to his vehicle.

He raised his brows. “Just a meeting to set some things right.”

That’s what he thought.

“Hope you’re not too disappointed when you go home alone to your bed tonight without the answers you are looking for.” She gave him a sweet smile as he opened the pickup door for her, and she climbed into the passenger’s seat.

His expression was noncommittal. “My conscience is clear, and I sleep well at night. What about you?”

She turned away and looked out the windshield as he still held her door, waiting for her response. She didn’t sleep well at all. Certainly not last night after fighting the craving to shape-shift half the evening. Her lack of sleep had nothing to do with having a bad conscience and all to do with the moon and a wolf named Ryan who had come to her in a vision. Mervin, too, wearing his red-and-white-striped jacket.

“I sleep wonderfully well.” She gave Ryan a quick smile.

He smirked. “Right. That’s why you have dark circles under your eyes. I am trained to observe people and objects. I notice things.” He took a deep breath. “This won’t take long.”

Which suited her just fine. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “Let’s get it over with. The sooner the better.” But she wanted to look in the visor mirror and see for herself if she had dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t noticed when she smoothed lipstick over her lips or applied makeup earlier.

He shut her door, skirted around his vehicle, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

There was no figuring what was going on in Ryan McKinley’s investigative mind, but why was she bothered by the notion that he’d be leaving soon?

He considered her for a moment and then nodded. But something was off in the way he acted. As though he had to finish this so he could get to more important business back home, yet he didn’t want to let go of the business here so quickly, either. What was that all about anyway?

Ryan circled the truck around the drive and then headed toward town.

No, it was something deeper than that. Something sexy, more primal, more wolf. If she shape-shifted, would it help her to recognize better what was going on between them? Or was her usual cynicism about men blocking her ability to see what was really happening?

Giving up on psychoanalyzing the situation further, she leaned into the seat and smelled the fragrance of new leather. She noted the spotless dashboard and a medallion hanging from the rearview mirror as it swung with the movement of the truck. She tried to glimpse the words etched on the medallion, on a brass plate below the name MacKinlay.

“What does the motto mean?”

“‘We force no friend; we fear no foe,’ which was the motto for the Clan Farquharson. But some say we were associated with the Buchanan clan instead. Others say a people named MacAnleighs might have been more related to our origin.”

He didn’t say anything further, and she prompted him, “Go on. Family roots fascinate me. Sometimes the meaning of a name gives a hint to a family’s origins. Maybe something about their character that is passed down from generation to generation.”

His mouth curved up a little. “Never know. Since we had more family in the area of Braemar, we go with Clan Farquharson’s motto. McKinley is a variation of MacKinlay. Some say the name originated from the Gaelic ‘Mac Fhionnlaoich,’ meaning ‘fair hero.’”

“Fair hero. Hmm. See? What did I say?”

“Yes, but another meaning is given. ‘Son,’ for Mac, ‘of the white warrior.’” He waited for her response.

She smiled. “Seems, with the occupation you’ve chosen, you carry the gene that validates the claim for both the motto and the meaning of your name.”

“I try to live up to the name, to make my ancestors proud.”

She noticed the blanket lying on the seat between them, a predominantly blue-and-green plaid wool with black and red threads woven in, accentuating it. She ran her hand over the soft fabric.

“It’s old,” Ryan said.

“It represents the McKinley clan?”

“Yes. It was my grandfather’s.”

Chill bumps raced along her arms. Lelandi had explained to Carol how the lupus garous lived long lives, thirty years for every year after they reached puberty. So his grandfather could very well have fought in clan battles and been a clan chief even. Or not. He might have just been a sheepherder, for all she knew. She’d read so many Highland romances that the idea she could be sitting next to the descendant of one of those brawny men—barelegged, barefooted, and bare… she smiled… bare-assed men of the kilt—made her melt a little.

Ryan glanced at her and gave her a suggestion of a smile. Her cheeks instantly flushed with heat. He winked. “You may see visions of the future, but I wish I could read your mind.”

Her face heated anew. She pushed some of her hair behind an ear and looked out the windshield. “What did your grandfather do as an occupation?”

“Fought for the clan, took a mate, raised a passel of kids, and whittled in his spare time.”

“Whittled?”

Ryan chuckled. “That he did. Played the bagpipes, too.”

She sighed and touched the blanket on the seat, imagining what it would be like to fall into one of her romance novels and feel the soft plaid on a Highlander’s hardened body until he slipped it off and settled it on the heather. Hand outstretched, he’d offer to take her into his world and show her just how hardy a Highlander could be.

Her lips dry, she was sweeping her tongue over them when she caught Ryan glancing at her again. “Have you ever been to the Colorado Scottish Festival and Rocky Mountain Highland Games?” she asked wistfully. She had loved the place on the one chance she’d had to visit. All those Celts dressed in different tartans. The music. The games. The food.

“To listen to the pipes and drums, to step to the Celtic tunes, dance in the Highland competitions, participate in tug-of-war, and the parade of clans? I’ve participated every year for the past four years.”

“Do you win?”

“Every year.”

“The truth?”

He smiled. “The truth is that a werewolf’s strength gives me a bit of an advantage.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it. Have you been?”

She sighed. “Once. All those men in kilts with great-looking legs nearly did me in.”

He gave her another shadow of a smile. “Do you have a Scottish background?”

“MacDonald, on my mother’s side of the family. Our motto: ‘By sea and land.’ We have an armored hand holding a cross for the clan’s crest. After I went to that one festival, I went away to college, but I hope to go this summer again. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

And see Ryan in a kilt, his legs bare, naked biceps and back straining to pull at a rope as men on the other side fight to win the game. Darien probably wouldn’t even let her go to the festivities, unless some of his people were willing to watch her.

Or if she had a mate already. And then her mate probably wouldn’t be interested in going there unless he had Celtic roots. She chewed on her bottom lip. She had to find other men who appealed like Ryan did, since she didn’t think Jake or Tom would ever make a move in her direction.

Then a new thought came to her. The librarian and masseuse were from another pack. Why couldn’t she go to their pack, or even Ryan’s, and see if someone who suited her better was in one of those packs?

She patted Ryan’s thigh, making him tense and speed up as he barreled down the road.

“I have an idea. When you have your next gathering, I’ll come to Green Valley and check out the eligible bachelors there,” she said. “Have any good hardy Scots in the bunch?”

Ryan’s mouth opened as if he was going to make a comment, but then he quickly snapped it shut. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel and finally said, “Darien wouldn’t allow it.”

She was a little surprised at his reaction. “Funny, I thought you might be less against it than he would be. I’ve heard that a pack leader who can encourage unmated females to accept bachelors in his pack earns brownie points.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened, and she assumed she’d hit another nerve. But she wasn’t sure why this time, unless someone in his pack might truly be interested in her.

“In fact, I’ll check into Becky and Marilee’s pack while I’m at it. Surely, I’ll find someone I’ll be interested in. Don’t you think?”