by Coral Moore
Erik nodded. “They’ve been glad-handing and paying bribes all over town. I can’t even get a foundation poured at that site off Mississippi Avenue because of the permit and license bullshit they’re shaking up.”
Brand moved to a credenza along the wall at a right angle to Erik’s desk and leaned against it. “What’s the problem?”
“Loki only knows.” Erik made a dismissive gesture. “They claim the construction will cause problems at one of their nearby warehouses.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Erik called for them to enter. The assistant showed two men into the room and retreated once more. Both men had the polished, easy manner of long-time businessmen. The taller of the two wore a navy suit, his dark hair impeccably slicked back. He extended a hand toward Erik.
Erik clenched his sharp-edged jaw and stared at the offered hand as if he were seriously considering biting it. “Harris, I don’t have time for your idiocy today. Sit down and get to the point.”
Harris swallowed and brushed at his knee as he took his seat. “A hundred-thousand-dollar donation to Mr. Rivera’s leukemia research fund would see this matter resolved without issue.”
Erik pressed his hands into the desk until his fingers mottled from the pressure. “That’s ridiculous.” His voice was low and dangerous. “He can have half that.”
Harris glanced at the man next to him. After a brief pause, the unnamed associate nodded. Harris’s eyes popped open, but he covered his shock quickly and turned back to Erik. “That will be fine, Mr. Sorenson.” Both men stood. “We’ll get out of your way now.” Harris crossed the room with the measured steps of a man trying his best not to scurry away, with the other man following close behind him.
Erik watched them go from beneath a furrowed brow. He reached for the phone and slapped the intercom button. “Molly, have a check cut for Harris and get him out of my building.”
Erik released the button before she responded. He paused to run his fingers through his hair and made the blond spikes stand up even more.
Brand cleared his throat. “I thought you were going to tear them apart. Glad you didn’t. Cleaning up their guts for the rest of the afternoon isn’t my idea of a good time.”
Erik smiled, but the strain was obvious around the edges of his mouth.
Before Erik could respond, Brand’s phone rang. Not wanting to take a call in Erik’s office, he gestured to the door and nodded his farewell before exiting into the lobby.
He pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the display before answering. “What is it, Cam?”
His assistant replied, “I’ve got Detective Grant for you.”
“Put him through.”
Harris and his colleague were still in the lobby, arguing with an annoyed-looking Molly. Brand turned his back on them and stared out the window at the darkening street.
Grant’s gruff voice came over the line a few seconds later. “I need to know if you’ve had any nuisance animal complaints at the factory site recently.”
Brand watched the cars roll slowly to the stop sign at the corner. “None of my guys have reported anything. Why?”
“When we canvassed the neighborhood, someone said they saw a wolf about a week ago. I’m wondering if that’s the answer to our bite mark dilemma.”
Brand hesitated before responding. “Isn’t a coyote a lot more likely? There hasn’t been a wolf pack in Colorado since the nineteen twenties. The closest wolf is probably hundreds of miles away.”
If Grant wondered why Brand had such detailed knowledge of wolf movements, he didn’t ask. “According to the witness, the animal was huge with dark red fur.”
Brand rested a hand on the windowpane and leaned his forehead against it. Red. Perhaps a dozen of their kind had that coloring, including Erik’s mate, Bera. The red coat was a trait specific to her father’s line. Björnkarl’s offspring were troublesome and, like their sire, tended to follow their own rules.
That the wolf had transformed so far from the full moon considerably narrowed the list. Few among them were powerful enough to transform more than a week away from the moon’s peak.
The image of the murdered woman flickered through his mind. Her tortured face wrenched his gut. He’d been witness to similar scenes more often than he cared to remember. With tension tightening his chest, he realized the woman’s condition bore an eerie resemblance to how he’d found Alice years before. His pulse raced, thudding in his ears.
The moment it took to compose himself seemed to go on forever. “It’s probably a stray dog.” His voice sounded choked. “I have a meeting.” Brand hung up without waiting for a response and ran from the lobby.
* * *
Alice smiled when heavy footfalls echoed down the hallway to her lab. Only one person could make the simple act of walking sound so urgent. She straightened from the enzyme analysis she’d been working on and stretched her back with a sigh. Brand didn’t usually come to her work, and she wondered what had brought him there.
His shadow fell across the doorway a few seconds before he came into view. Long-limbed and muscular, he looked the same as he had the day he’d saved her life nearly a century ago, like an oversized helping of trouble. He wore his dark hair—almost unheard of among their kind—shaggy and unkempt. His jaw was set in an angry expression that an observer might assume he meant for her, but she knew better. Still, she felt her smile slip. “What’s got you so wound up?”
His shoulders relaxed as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Don’t know what you mean. I came to say hello.” His eyes slid away from her and scanned a row of test tubes on the lab table between them.
Alice bit her lower lip. Brand didn’t avoid eye contact with anyone. He also didn’t lie. The combination of the two made her heart race. His evasion covered something terrible, and she could only think of one thing that bad—Arnbjörn. Memories of the agony he’d inflicted on her rose to the forefront of her mind. Fear climbed from her chest into her throat. She couldn’t breathe.
Brand’s attention snapped back to her. He darted into the room and caught her as she fell from the high lab chair, his arms too tight around her.
Panicked, she pushed at him in a pointless attempt to escape the trapped sensation that pulled her under a veil of terror. In the dark place she retreated to in her mind, she felt, or perhaps heard, a deep, resonant beat. The note pulsed through her, and drew her attention from the desperation spiraling out of control.
She opened her eyes, which she hadn’t realized she’d closed, and stared up at Brand. His wolf’s power wrapped her in a blanket of warmth that kept the fear at bay. She found it so easy to believe, while he was near, that Arn could never hurt her again.
He smoothed her hair with one hand. Concern tightened his mouth while his blue eyes searched her face. “Better?”
She nodded, but still couldn’t speak.
His calloused fingers moved over her cheek, rough, but gentle. “I’m sorry.”
She leaned her head against him and sighed. He was the only one of the brood ever to have apologized to her. An apology was a rare gesture in their world, implying a degree of subservience one didn’t just give away, certainly not to one as low-ranked as she. “He’s in Denver?” She didn’t need to specify who he was. In fact, she didn’t think she could actually say his name without stuttering, though so much time had passed.
The soothing motion of Brand’s hand stilled and he frowned. “I don’t know for sure it’s him. A woman was killed by one of us last night and a red wolf was reported nearby about a week ago.”
Alice swallowed. In her opinion, that was pretty solid evidence. Still, she had doubts. If Arn was in the city, wouldn’t he have come for her? “I haven’t felt him,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“That’s good.” Brand showed her a tight smile, the kind he used when trying to hide his teeth so he wouldn’t frighten her. He put her on her feet in an effortless motion. “The wolf might have been Bera for all I know.”
; “I appreciate that you don’t want to scare me, but I’d rather know he might be out there.” She trailed off at the end, but managed to finish before her voice failed her entirely.
Brand pulled her into a hug before she could protest. The reflexive terror in response to his nearness clenched her stomach, and she struggled against succumbing to it.
After a mercifully short embrace, he backed away, then reached to hold her face between his palms. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
Since he’d found her, broken and bleeding by the side of a road, he’d never let anything harm her. So why did she find it so hard to believe him? Alice nodded into his large, warm hands and tried to smile. “I know.”
* * *
About the Author
Coral Moore has always been the kind of girl who makes up stories. Fortunately, she never quite grew out of that. She writes because she loves to invent characters and the desire to find out what happens to her creations drives the tales she tells.
Prompted by a general interest in how life works, her undergraduate schooling was in biology. She follows science news and enjoys conversations about genetics and microbiology as much as those about vampires and werewolves. Coral writes speculative fiction and is pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Writing at Albertus Magnus College.
She currently lives in Connecticut with the love of her life who offers both encouragement and kicks in the tail when necessary. Also in residence are two mammals of the families Canidae and Felidae.
Connect with Coral Online:
Website: https://www.chaosandinsanity.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/coralm