The Wolf in the Mansion [A Siren Adult Fable]

by Gracie C. McKeever

  She ran her fingers over the spot where she had seen the blood but instead of a tear that might have accounted for the wound, found only smooth skin. Confused, she searched further, thinking maybe she had the wrong shoulder. However, the other shoulder was also completely smooth. It was as if he had not been wounded. The only evidence of any injury at all was a smear of dried blood on his right shoulder.

  What was going on?

  Curious, Deja checked further, running her hands down his body, gently fondling the skin and muscles of his torso and legs. She found more blood on his thigh, but like his shoulder, there was no other evidence of an injury. Next, she checked his skull for any bumps or punctures that might account for his amnesia and found a contusion on his temple.

  Deja pushed his hair away from his face, tucking the long, silken strands behind his ear to get a better look. She was barely surprised by the large, already-healing bruise. The incident was no weirder than the disappearing bullet wounds in his shoulder and thigh.

  Someone had hurt him, most probably tried to kill him. Question was who and why?

  Deja left Lincoln to retrieve a wet, soapy sponge, a basin of warm water and a large towel. Returning to the bed, she carefully washed him, paying particular attention to the spots of dried blood to minimize any infection, though he didn't seem to need any help from her with healing. His body had the process down pat, even if he was unaware.

  She had seen stranger things in her life, had in fact been responsible for some, so she wasn't as shocked as another might have been at Lincoln's condition, only concerned at how he had gotten wounded.

  After she toweled him off and took the basin and towel to the bathroom, Deja returned to sit on the edge of the bed to watch Lincoln. It was no great hardship.

  Outside of that first encounter in the park and in her other rare glimpses of him, she'd never noticed how much like an Native American warrior he seemed, his shoulder-length black hair and deep bronze skin striking in a man with so bright a blue gaze.

  Deja reached out to brush his hair back from his face again, her hand lingering against his forehead as she caught a flash of a wolf running through the woods.

  In that instant, she knew the wolf was Lincoln!

  She grimaced but closed her eyes, giving into the vision, glad for something more constructive to do than wonder at what had happened to him, even if what she was seeing was almost certainly implausible.

  Deja heard the rifle shot, frightening and thunderous, an instant before she felt the pain of a bullet tearing through Lincoln's flesh. He continued to run, faster now, gasping for breath and desperate for escape as he searched the woods ahead for a safe haven.

  Someone was behind him, hunting him.

  The wolf flung back its head and howled, either in agony or in an effort to summon others of its kind, then continued further into the woods before another bullet tore through his shoulder.

  He continued to run, approaching the cliff edge at a dangerously high rate of speed.

  The wolf skidded to a stop and frantically searched for another way out. Finding none, he leapt off the edge of the cliff, screaming all the way down.

  "Noooooo!"

  Deja rushed to cover Lincoln's mouth with her hand as he flailed his arms like he was trying to fend off someone. “Shh, shh. You have to be quiet unless you want someone to know you're here."

  His eyes flew open and he stared at her, the infamous blue gaze turning her insides to molten liquid.

  Deja thanked the Goddess she was sitting down because she was sure her legs were too weak to hold her upright, at least not beneath the intensity of that stare. “So, are we on the same page then, Lincoln?"

  He nodded and she took her hand away.

  "Where is ‘here'?"

  "You're in my cabin at the Battleby Lodge.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead, taking great comfort in what was quickly becoming a pleasant habit.

  "Not a hospital."

  She shook her head. “You said, and I quote, ‘no doctors, no hospital.’ Although why I heeded that particular demand is a mystery to me.” Except that she trusted him, Goddess knew why, since she hadn't trusted anyone, especially a man, in longer than she could remember.

  And she chose now with a relative fugitive and stranger to begin doling out something she held so sacred.

  He could have been on the run from the law. Maybe that was the reason she'd found him the way she had. It still didn't explain someone hunting the wolf, however, nor did it explain Lincoln's naked state when she found him, unless, as she had already guessed but still refused to believe, Lincoln was the wolf.

  Deja tried to grasp it, didn't know why the possibility of Lincoln being a shape shifter seemed so far-fetched to her, especially when she considered her own gifts.

  Lincoln caught her nearest hand and held it. “Thank you."

  "I told you, don't thank me until you're out of the woods."

  "I am out of the woods."

  "I meant figuratively, smarty. And how would you know whether you are or you aren't anyway? You were unconscious a few seconds ago."

  "I just know.” He threw off the covers and moved to sit up. “The sleep sped my healing."

  "You were barely asleep an hour."

  "I'm a quick healer."

  "And how do you—"

  "I just do.” He grinned and flung his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

  "I wouldn't try that if I were you."

  "You're not me.” He let go of her hand and stood, dragging the bed covers with him to wrap around his waist, a typical, arrogant alpha male, no matter what species.

  "We're definitely going to have to do something about your clothing dilemma while you're here.” She could think of several reasons to leave the dilemma unsolved, number one being it would be a waste of time since she would just rip said clothes off him right before begging him to screw her silly.

  Now, was that any way for a mostly celibate single mother to behave?

  "It's no crime, you know."

  She frowned. “What isn't?"

  "Wanting someone so much."

  Had she spoken out loud or had he just read her mind?

  Deja stared at him, saw the mysterious smile lighting his eyes and felt heat immediately rush to her face. She hadn't been so embarrassed since she'd explained the facts of life to her then five-year-old son when he'd one day come to her bursting with curiosity.

  "You aren't alone."

  "Wanting someone?"

  "Wanting you.” He cupped her face with one hand and Deja gaped when he lost his balance, falling back onto the bed as if in slow motion.

  She rushed to check on him as he lay still on his back. When she saw him glancing up at her with a grin and knew he was all right, she said, “I won't say I told you so."

  "You can if you want to."

  "All right then. I told you so."

  He chuckled and sat up beside her.

  Deja hated to wipe that dimpled, male grin off his face, but needed to know. “Do you remember what happened to you?"

  Lincoln averted his gaze and shook his head. “I think I'd kill right now to remember."

  The fierceness of his tone left no doubt in her mind that he could kill.

  Deja shuddered, not out of fear, but out of desire.

  How idiotic was that? And what did it say about her for wanting him the darker and more aggressively he behaved? Was there something intrinsically sick in her to make her react to him this way, or did her soul just know he wouldn't hurt her no matter what he said or did?

  She turned to catch him staring, but unlike her, he didn't blush out of embarrassment.

  Why would he? He had absolutely no qualms about walking around in the wilderness naked. Why should being caught staring at someone disconcert him?

  "I wasn't just walking around."

  She was going to have to monitor her thoughts around him, as well as her feelings.

  "Don't censure yourself on my account."

&nb
sp; "You do that too damn easily. Not to mention I think it's pretty damn convenient that you don't remember what happened to you, but you can reach inside my head at will."

  "Do you think I'm faking my condition?"

  "I don't know,” she admitted. Deja knew he was as different as her if not more so, his anatomy and healing capacity a complete mystery to her, in opposition to everything she knew about ‘normal’ human physiology. Would a doctor find his physical and mental condition and functioning just as mysterious as she did? Was that why he was afraid to go to the hospital? “Are you faking it?"

  "Of course not! I'm not that kind of person."

  "How do you know you're not?"

  He growled. “Deja, you're pushing it."

  She knew she was, but couldn't help baiting him, needed to distance herself as much as possible and if that meant pushing the issue of his amnesia, testing its limits and his veracity, then so be it.

  "For your information, I don't believe I read everyone so easily. I'm sure there has to be some kind of bond."

  "Are you saying we have a bond?"

  "What do you think?"

  What she thought was that she needed to get away from the man as soon as possible. His honesty and injury made him a double threat to her female and maternal instincts, not to mention his allusion to their bond, eliciting her recollections of their meeting in the park. Such a brief encounter, yet so life changing, at least for her it had been. She had never been able to get inside someone's head who could return the favor. Obviously his injury didn't affect his ability to communicate telepathically, or to know her better than anyone else.

  "What I think is you don't need to get away from me, Deja. There's a reason you were the one to find me on those rocks."

  "What? Are you saying fate was involved?” Or was he referring back to her being a witch?

  He shrugged, would have seemed coy if his blue eyes weren't looking at her with such acute and bold familiarity totally belying his memory loss.

  How could someone who couldn't remember what happened to him not more than an hour ago, read her so well? And how much better would he read her if he was healthy?

  She glared at him then closed her eyes and concentrated on reaching into his mind. She glanced over the injured landscape of his brain, immediately jerking back at the twinge, eyes snapping open in surprise.

  How he was able to stay conscious through all the pain, much less remember anything at all was beyond her. He probably should be in a coma so that his brain could finish healing the way his body had.

  She felt bad now for accusing him of faking his injury and thought she should have ignored his wish not to be taken to a hospital. He needed professional medical attention, much more than she could give him there in her cabin.

  What if he had a relapse or got worse? What if he never got back all his memories? What would she do then?

  She peered at him to see if he had caught any of that, hated him having such easy access to her thoughts, especially when his proximity already promoted such easy access to her libido.

  He didn't say anything for a long moment, just returned her gaze.

  Deja closed her eyes and concentrated now on erecting a mental wall between them. Brain injured or not, he still posed a threat to her person and her not-so-secret secrets.

  It took a while but despite being so out of practice, she finally succeeded. She opened her eyes to give him a triumphant look until she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Had she failed or was he just bluffing?

  "I caught most of it. Maybe if I weren't ‘brain injured', I would have caught it all."

  That's what worried her. He wasn't even operating at full mental or physical capacity. How would she handle him when he was up to snuff?

  "You don't need to worry around me, Deja. It doesn't matter how little I remember, I know I would never hurt you.” He leaned close, lips poised a centimeter away from hers.

  Deja didn't move, heart thudding enough to obliterate all other sound until she felt like she was underwater.

  "But I am going to kiss you,” he murmured.

  Her upright nipples shouted, “Help yourself!” right before he pressed his lips to hers.

  Lincoln cupped the base of her skull to draw her closer, and used his other hand to cup her breast through her T-shirt.

  Hating the cotton material that prevented her finally feeling his fingers against her skin, Deja moaned and pushed herself into his hand as if this act could dissolve her T-shirt.

  Lincoln got the message and slid his hand beneath the hem, slowly running his fingers over her skin, setting fire to the sensitive nerve endings around her nipple right before he rolled and pinched the hard nub.

  Deja squeezed her legs together at the searing pleasure and pain, as if this could stop the hot tidal wave rushing to her panties. She moaned again and Lincoln responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth, foraging inside until she pushed her tongue out to duel with his.

  Only after he growled and flipped her beneath him did an alarm go off inside her head reminding her that she was in bed with a naked, relative stranger who happened to be her boss. Even then, it wasn't a very loud alarm. At least, not loud enough to drown out the sound of blood and adrenaline flowing through her body to merge in her pussy in a blast of heated lust.

  Lincoln slid his knee between her thighs and urged them apart, sliding his hand under a leg of her khaki shorts and inside her panties right before someone knocked on the door.

  Chapter 3

  Lincoln cursed under his breath and rested his forehead against Dahlia's.

  No. Not Dahlia. Deja. Deja Hamilton, his ... In what way did they belong to each other? How were they related? He knew she wasn't his wife or even his girlfriend. But there was some connection between them, he wasn't sure what kind or how close except for that meeting in the park that his brain kept coming back to, a meeting that screamed they were more than just acquaintances.

  "I, uh, I should get that."

  As if on cue, another knock sounded, this one more urgent than the previous.

  Lincoln nodded and pulled himself off her with much reluctance. “Yeah, you should get that. It could be important.” He couldn't imagine anything more important than getting Deja's clothes off and sinking so deep into her he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

  Deja eased off of the bed, taking several steps toward the door before turning back to glance at him.

  Lincoln had flung the sheet over his lap but wondered if it did any good to hide his raging erection, especially when he caught Deja's gaze drift over the area before snapping back to his face. His erection trembled and grew as he watched her lick her lips and noticed the hunger glowing out of her light gray eyes. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her made him ache with need.

  His memory of her, or lack thereof, certainly didn't affect his hunger for her. He wondered how much more he would want her if his memory was intact or if it would matter at all since it appeared amnesia didn't preclude his desire.

  "I'll be right back."

  She sounded as reluctant to leave Lincoln as he was to watch her leave and Lincoln swallowed hard at the thought of her willing body beneath him, his dick throbbing at the memory of her warm flesh under his hands.

  He'd been so close to slipping his fingers inside her, so close to feeling her inner heat against some part of his body.

  Lincoln fell back on the bed, groaning with frustration. First his memory had left him, then he was deprived of enjoying the one glorious woman who could make any man forget his name, much less where he'd come from.

  Danger. Something told him she was in danger.

  Had it been a mistake to let her go to the door alone? Like he was in any position to accompany and protect her? Or was his injured brain playing tricks on him, signaling a threat where there was none?

  Regardless of his disability, his instincts were undamaged and had Lincoln wrapping the sheet around his waist and striding acro
ss the room when Deja appeared at the door.

  "Oh!” She gasped and bounced back off his chest. “Where were you off to?"

  "To check on you."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged, felt silly trying to explain his concern now.

  "I don't think you're silly."

  Lincoln gaped and caught her by the shoulders. “How do we keep doing that?"

  "What?'

  "Reading each other's minds."

  "Payback is a mother, ain't it?"

  "This is no time to joke."

  She shrugged, seemed genuinely contrite and even perplexed except he knew there was much more to the woman than met the eye. There was much more between them than mind reading, certainly.

  "I guess it's like your ability to heal so quickly, second nature,” she said.

  That was the other thing bothering him since he'd woken up in her bed, these abilities he seemed to have. Where had they come from and did they have anything to do with the wolf in his visions?

  Her visions.

  Christ, he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

  Lincoln released her, wincing when he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he sighed. “Who was at the door?"

  "Just a staff member of the lodge. He wanted to make sure I was okay and warn me there had been a wolf sighted in the area."

  "Wolf?” Me!

  She nodded, didn't seem particularly surprised or alarmed by the news.

  "When you pulled me out of the water earlier, what did you see?"

  "That's the second time you've asked me that."

  "Did you answer me and I forgot?"

  She chuckled and shook her head as she caught his hand and led him towards the bed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you believe you had forgotten. I was just being—"

  "Recalcitrant."

  "Goddess, you make me sound like my son."

  "Shawn."

  "You remember!"

  Something in her tone and big gray eyes made his heart flip with pride and he knew in that moment he would do anything in his power to please this woman, do anything to keep her safe and with him, knew in that moment that he had already tried. He saw her tears, felt her regret, something about Shawn and the boy's father. He reached, mental fingers just brushing a past where he wanted to help her, needed to help her the way she needed to help him. “I met him once during the company picnic, correct?"