Heart of the Wolf (5 page)

Clear this up and welcome to the family, Renjiro.

It was typical Dom politics. Ren hadn’t been idle during his years of exile. He’d built a reputation for himself in
Europe
. He was well respected, especially among those younger wolves who were tired of the old alphas calling all the shots. Wolves lived a long time, and there were many who had no intention of waiting for Dom or the other alphas to die before striking out on their own.

Dominick Bartek had finally called Ren back to the
U.S.
precisely because old Avinger had died. He probably thought to bind Ren, and hence his followers, to the status quo by giving him Kathryn, just as he’d promised years ago. That someone was now trying to kill her only made it easier for the Alpha to bring Ren into the picture. Too bad he hadn’t checked with Kathryn first.

Ren sighed and kept moving. Easy for Kathryn to talk about taking her money and walking away from the clan. She was all but gone already. It wasn’t that easy for him. He had family and friends, people who counted on him, and all of them tied to the wolf clans. Whether Kathryn wanted Ren here or not, he’d have to find a way to settle this to Dom’s satisfaction, which meant finding whoever was trying to kill Kathryn and shutting them down.

 
He beeped his locks open and stepped into the street, his boots sinking into dirty slush. The snow was coming down harder than ever. He really had to get out of this fucking city.

Chapter Six

“Kathryn? Everything all right?”

It was Tommy. Decent, loyal Tommy who was more than half in love with her. Maybe the only person in her life these days whom she could count on completely. Her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away impatiently. This wasn’t like her. She had no room for self-pity. Such weakness had been burned out of her long ago—along with every other useless emotion.

“Yes. Thank you, Tommy,” she said. “I’m just a little tired, I think.” She stood up, automatically brushing her hands down the front of her wool slacks, straightening her sweater.
Preston
had always hated it when she looked wrinkled. “I was thinking we’d leave for the country tonight after dinner rather than waiting until the full moon. It looks like a storm’s building, and I don’t want to get trapped here in the city.”

Tommy frowned, which was odd. He never disagreed with her on anything. “That Mr. Roesner said you should stay here, Kathryn. I don’t like the guy, but I gotta worry when he says that. Let me talk to him first, make sure it’s safe.”

Kathryn felt the chains of Clanhome tightening around her once again, trying to drag her back in now that
Preston
was gone. This was only the beginning. Her father had sent Ren first, but he would reach out personally soon. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. But there was no way she could explain all of that to Tommy.

“I’m going to lie down,” she said instead. “Tell Marla not to make a fuss about dinner. I’ll come to the kitchen later.”

* * * *

Kathryn closed the bedroom door behind her. She didn’t bother to undress, just kicked off her shoes and lay down on the big bed, pulling the silken throw up from the foot until it covered her completely. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she closed her eyes, trying not to think of Ren storming into
Preston
’s office, full of bristling male impatience and throwing off breeding scent like crazy. She’d forgotten how intoxicating an alpha male in his prime could be. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really appreciated it before today. She’d been so young when she left Clanhome, and after their marriage,
Preston
had never permitted any wolves in the house, not even her father. They made him uneasy, he’d said. More likely frightened, but she’d gone along with it because no one had given her a choice about that either.

She pushed the troubling thoughts out of her mind and tried to relax. She was tired. There’d been so much to do after
Preston
died, so many people demanding her attention. Just a little rest, that’s all she needed. A little sleep.

* * * *

She woke in a strange bed, muscles aching, her body sore in places… She felt her skin heat with embarrassment, remembering the night before, when Preston had made love to her for the first time.

Love? Is that what it was?

It had felt more like rape. He had stripped her dress away from her, scattering tiny pearl buttons over the thick carpet, pushing her down and shoving himself into her again and again, finally pulling out and spraying his seed all over her naked skin. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect from her wedding night, especially with a human, but it certainly hadn’t been pain and humiliation.

She turned over and fought not to scream as panic flooded her system, her heart pounding, her breath coming in hard gasps. She was chained, bound by a cuff on her ankle that was bolted to the floor near the same bed where
Preston
had taken her the night before.

She could still smell the blood of her maidenhead, could feel the sticky wetness on the silk sheets beneath her. She tugged at the padded cuff, whimpering in confusion, while Wolf howled within, infuriated at being bound, fighting to break free. She fought the change, frightened of what would happen if she shifted while bound.

Who had done this?
Preston
? Did he know she was Wolf? Is that why he’d chained her? But why marry her at all then? Thoughts swirled chaotically through her terrified mind, making no sense, bringing no understanding of what was happening to her.

She twisted around as the door snicked open, followed by the sound of soft laughter. Preston stood just inside the room, fully dressed, his hands hidden behind him.

“Calm, little wolf,” he said.

She shivered at the fevered glitter of excitement in his eyes.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Will you change for me, I wonder? What would it take? How much pain before the beast takes over?”

His hand lifted from behind his back, and she screamed.

* * * *

“No!” Kathryn woke with a shout. She sat up quickly, scrambling off the big bed, her legs tangling in the blanket to send her stumbling against the wall before she remembered where she was.

Preston
was dead. Dead and buried. And long before that, his aging human body had lost the strength to beat her. Her initial terror had nearly been her undoing that first time, but her wolf had come raging to the surface, knowing nothing but fury at the human who’d dared attack her. She’d shifted at the first kiss of the whip on her back, slipping out of a cuff designed to hold a human ankle, not a wolf’s slender paw.

And then it had been
Preston
who was screaming, desperate to get out of the room, clawing at the locked door.

He’d tried to bind her only once more and nearly died for his efforts. He’d given up after that. And then, the cancer had struck, an enemy that not even his vast fortune could defeat, though he’d certainly tried. Eventually he’d been forced to his bed, spending the last years of his life wasting away. Ever the dutiful wife, Kathryn had visited him daily, taking her own pleasure from the fury in his icy blue eyes, a fury put there by the certain knowledge that he was trapped in a dying body while she would remain young and healthy for centuries after he was gone.

Kathryn pushed herself away from the wall and stood up, running her hands through her short hair, tugging at it the way she’d seen Ren do so many times. It was his fault, all this excess emotion. She hadn’t thought about that first night with
Preston
in years, had shut off her feelings in order to survive marriage to a man she despised. But Ren’s return had brought it all back, all those feelings that should have stayed dead. She picked up the throw from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders, wandering over to curl up on the sofa by the window. The snow was still falling. Far below, the city would be shutting down beneath a blanket of white.

She wished Tommy had gone along with her desire to get out of the city early. It would be good to be in the country again, to run as a wolf, free of human concerns, human needs. Wolf was simple. Wolf was free. And for those few hours every month, so was Kathryn.

Chapter Seven

Across the city, Ren shouldered aside his front door, drew off his coat, and thought about the pretty redhead he’d just sent off in a taxi by herself. After the scene with Kathryn, he hadn’t felt like going home or being alone, so he’d stopped by the electronics store and picked up the woman who’d sold him the DVR. They’d gone to dinner, and she’d made it clear she was open for a more personal encounter, but Ren discovered he was no longer interested.

 
He dropped his mail on the table, threw his keys and cell phone on top of it, and went straight to the bar. Beer wouldn’t be enough tonight. He needed to feel the burn in his gut, something to drown the anger threatening to bubble up every time he thought about Kathryn and her father. And
Preston
Avinger.

He split the seal on a brand-new decanter of Glenmorangie Single Malt and poured a generous three fingers, neat. With the soothing heat of the twenty-one-year-old scotch sliding down his throat, he took both glass and bottle with him across the room and slumped down in a leather armchair that was too new to be comfortable. He sat facing the tinted expanse of glass overlooking the shorter buildings below and the bay beyond.

Behind the heavy clouds, he could see the moon trying to poke through, its silver light a balm to the wolf within. The full moon was tomorrow, he realized. He’d shoved it to the back of his brain in the shock of seeing Kathryn again. No wonder he was so edgy. Full moon in a strange city without a single decent park. He should probably make the trip out to Clanhome, run the moon there, and pay his respects to Dom. Except he wasn’t feeling much respect for his Alpha these days, and it was a long drive. Maybe Kathryn would let him go with her to the country house she’d talked about.

“Fat chance,” he muttered.

Outside, the falling snow thickened gradually until it hid everything but his own reflection. Ren took a long pull on the scotch and closed his eyes.

Chapter Eight

There were advantages to being a wolf. Strength, long life, amazing recuperative powers and short hangovers. Ren woke the next morning still sitting in front of the window, his last glass of scotch now staining the carpet to one side of the chair, which was a crime. Every bone and muscle ached, and that included the useless muscle in his skull that was drumming with all the rhythm of a two-year-old on Christmas morning.

A handful of aspirin and a hot shower later, he was feeling almost normal. And irritable enough for a visit to Lewis Westgate, Preston Avinger’s estate attorney. Mr. Westgate had been reluctant, until he’d found out Ren was investigating
Preston
’s widow. After that, Ren had become his new best friend, and they’d agreed to meet late this morning.

Ren’s first thought on entering Westgate’s office was to wonder if the man knew his secretary was a wolf. Her eyes widened first in surprise and then mild arousal when Ren walked through the door, in spite of the wedding ring on her finger. This close to the moon, a wolf’s control over her emotions was always less certain, and Ren politely ignored the indiscretion. He gave her a slight nod of recognition before introducing himself and explaining his presence. As he followed her rather shapely ass into Westgate’s inner office, he decided the woman must be one of Dom’s. Not solely by affiliation, although that was obvious since she was here in the city, but literally one of Dom’s agents put in place to keep tabs on Avinger’s estate. He wondered if Dom knew Kathryn had no intention of sharing her newfound wealth with dear old Dad. Obviously not. Or not yet, anyway.

Ren decided that imparting that bit of information to the Alpha went beyond the purview of his current assignment.

Westgate stood up as Ren entered, walking around his desk to shake hands. Ren reciprocated, tailoring his grip to the other man’s strength. Westgate was a trim man of above-average height, with the slender build of someone who played tennis for exercise. His hair and mustache were both blond and glittered with a distinguished hint of silver beneath the too-bright artificial lights.

“Mr. Roesner, a pleasure. Would you like anything? Coffee, tea? Something stronger?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Nothing for me,” Westgate said to the secretary. His gaze followed her out the door in a way that made Ren feel sleazy, given his own admiring assessment only a few minutes before. He felt even lower when Westgate saw him watching and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Nice, huh?” the lawyer said. “Happily married, though. For now.”

He strolled around his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair to study Ren. “Have a seat, Mr. Roesner. So tell me, why are you investigating the lovely widow Avinger?”

Ren sat, leaning back and crossing his legs to mimic Westgate’s casual pose. “Not investigating her precisely, Westgate. I’m working with the police to find out who wants her dead. That kind of thing usually leads back to the target somehow.”