Finding the Texas Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  One perfectly arched brow rose. “Do I?” Deadpan, until one corner of her sensual lips curled upward. “Maybe you need to show me again.”

  Though tempted, he shook his head. “I’m serious, Carmen. How do you feel about making our partnership a little more permanent?”

  “You do realize I’m a Vampire, right?”

  “Of course. Just like you know what I am. You’ve already seen my other self.” They both kept their voices low.

  “Is that what this is about? You’re worried because I’ve seen your beast?”

  He wasn’t sure how to take that. “Of course not. I’ve fallen in love with you.” He waited for her to say something, anything, but she continued to stand still as a statue, looking down at the floor.

  “Carmen, can you at least react? This has never happened to me before, so forgive me if I’m handling it the wrong way.”

  Finally, she raised her head. To his shock, her beautiful eyes were full of tears. “This has never happened to me before, either,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “Are you sure, Rick Fallin? Are you absolutely positive you want to be with someone like me?”

  “Someone smart and beautiful and kind?” he countered. “Not to mention sexy as hell? Why wouldn’t I?”

  Though a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, she shook her head. “You know what I mean.”

  Vampire. She meant Vampire.

  He pretended to consider for a moment, before losing the battle and pulling her into his arms. She nestled in, the fit of her sleek body to his exactly right. “Without a doubt,” he said. “What about you? Are you okay with having someone like me as your man?”

  Instead of responding, she growled low in her throat, then spoiled it all by laughing. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I wonder what’s taking Colton so long?”

  As if her words summoned him, Colton appeared in the warehouse doorway. “We’re all good,” he said. “Not only did I notify Trent Paxton, but I let various other high-ranking people know. Just to cover our butts. The CDC is sending a team this way now, via private jet. They’ll be here by nightfall. Trent’s also going to work on getting some of the larger manufacturing companies geared up to start producing the vaccine and the antidote on a rush basis.” He glanced back at their captives, who continued to watch with interest. “They’re sending the FBI to get those guys, since they’re being classified as terrorists.”

  Impressed, Rick nodded. “Perfect.”

  Jake walked over, making notes in a notebook he’d gotten from somewhere. “Thanks, Colton, for letting me talk to Trent Paxton. This will be the story of the year once I get it written up. I’ve already contacted people I know at all the major networks. I’m thrilled that I got an exclusive.”

  Colton grinned. “I owed you.”

  “Plus, we’re only keeping our end of the bargain,” Rick chimed in. Carmen bumped his hip with hers and he put his arm around her to keep her close.

  The next several hours were a blur of activity. The FBI arrived first, taking the still bound group into custody.

  Carmen stayed busy making copious notes in triplicate. She also took the precaution of taking pics of her findings with her cell phone and emailing them to herself. “One can’t be too careful,” she said. Rick agreed wholeheartedly.

  When the CDC people finally arrived, looking frazzled despite their forced attitude of importance, Carmen handed them all her notes first, including the computer printouts she’d run. Next, she carefully gave them the padded case containing her tissue and blood samples. They took everything, thanked her for helping, turned on their heels and left. Carmen stared after them, her expression inscrutable.

  Rick went to her and pulled her close. “Are you all right?”

  “I expected more,” she confessed. “Foolish, I know. But I single-handedly came up with a solution to save mankind. I thought at least I’d get a letter of commendation or a medal or something.” She shrugged. “Shows even someone as old as I am can still be naive.”

  He hugged her and then nuzzled the top of her head. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Your place or mine?”

  His breath caught. “I’d sure love to see where you live,” he said. “My place is a pretty basic apartment.”

  “I live in a tomb,” she replied. Then, as he stared at her, she laughed. “Just kidding. I own a condo overlooking the yacht basis. Lots of windows and natural light.” She kissed him, a quick brush of her lips on his, and then once again, with the promise of more.

  “Hey you two,” Maddie called out. Hand in hand with Jake, she glowed with happiness. “Jake and I are heading to his house to finish working on the story. I’m planning to spend the weekend there. You’ve got my number if you need anything.”

  Carmen nodded. “I promise not to call unless it’s urgent. Where’s Colton?”

  “He said he was meeting a friend for dinner, then planned on going over to Broken Chains for drinks.”

  “Broken Chains,” Jake repeated. “Too bad I’ll never get to see inside.”

  “It’s just a bar,” Rick and Carmen said at once. They exchanged quick glances, avoiding looking at Maddie lest they give away the truth. Broken Chains was much more than just a bar, more than just an anything. They’d gone there as singles, and as friends. None of that would change, even if they paired off into couples.

  “Another successful case completed by The Shadow Agency,” Maddie crowed, waving. “See you all later.”

  After she and Jake had gone, Rick took Carmen’s hand and they walked outside. “We’ll have to catch a cab,” he said. “I rode here with Maddie, so I don’t have a vehicle.”

  “Let’s just walk.” She smiled up at him, her white teeth gleaming. “We might even stop at Broken Chains for a quick celebratory drink.”

  And that’s what they did.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Billionaire Werewolf’s Princess by Michele Hauf

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  The Billionaire Werewolf’s Princess

  by Michele Hauf

  Chapter 1

  Paris

  Indigo DuCharme’s chin wobbled as she held up her head and bravely looked over the busy ballroom. She stood at the top of a stairway that curled down to the marble dance floor. Her heart pounded so loudly she couldn’t focus on the waltz played by the orchestra. Her eyes threatened to tear up, but she blamed this on the brilliant glints from half a dozen chandeliers suspended above the dancers.

  Clutching her pink tulle skirt with both hands, she toyed with the embroidered red poppies she’d added days ago. She’d also sewn a poc
ket in the skirt to keep her cell phone. She forced herself not to check her text messages again. For the sixth time. Or maybe the thirteenth time. Because...

  He had jilted her.

  The last text she’d read from him, ten minutes earlier, had the audacity to state: Sorry, hooked up with Melanie this evening. You and me? Sex was great. But never connected beyond the sheets, yeah?

  Fingers curling into her palms, Indi winced as her perfectly manicured fingernails dug into her skin. Never connected? Beyond the sheets? She’d been dating Todd for over a month. They’d seen each other practically every day. She’d cooked for him. Shopped for him. Had sex with him and made sure he was a happy camper, meaning that she didn’t always orgasm but he did. All week she’d been planning her dress and hair for tonight’s date. The Summer Soiree charity ball was one of her favorites. And she looked...

  ...so pretty.

  Indi had felt like a star when she arrived by limo two hours earlier. Todd always met her for dates; his work as a stock trader kept him at the office at all hours. Indi had glided out of the limo, her long, lush, poppy-red-and-pink tulle skirts floating about her legs. The beaded bodice hugged her like a dream and she had dusted her décolletage with fine glitter. Her blond hair was pulled up in a messy bun with tendrils framing her face. She wore a pink, cat-ears tiara, which she sold through her online business, Goddess Goodies. Her makeup was dramatic and sexy. Todd loved the smoky eye shadow and her dark matte red lipstick. Or so he’d said.

  Had it all been a lie? Had she merely been a prolonged hookup? Who the hell was Melanie? And just how long could Indi hold off tears before she risked mascara running down her cheeks?

  A waiter, wielding a tray of goblets shimmering with bubbles, appeared before her. “Champagne?”

  Indi shook her head and forced a smile. She felt no mirth whatsoever. Reaching up to adjust the cat ears, she remembered how putting them on tonight had reminded her of the joy she’d felt as a kid. She’d worn cat ears for fun as a child, and then, after a few bad romances in high school, as a sort of confidence boost.

  The cat ears had been the first of many luxury accessories she now offered at her online store. Goddess Goodies bought out-of-season and damaged designer gowns—sometimes they were donated directly from the designers. Indi refurbished them, and then rented them for the price of shipping and cleaning. As well, she sold some gowns outright for a pretty penny. Indi’s business was designed to boost confidence and empower women, and to give the opportunity to those who might not be able to afford a pretty dress for prom or an important event. Goddess Goodies was treading toward its first million-dollar year. And that should make her feel on top of the world.

  It was difficult to celebrate her feminine power when her goddess had just been trampled on by an asshole. Would her love life ever catch up to the success she was experiencing in her business life?

  “Doubt it,” she whispered, and sniffed back a tear.

  Screw it. She grabbed a champagne goblet from another passing waiter’s tray and tilted it back. It was number five, or six, that she’d consumed since realizing Todd had dumped her.

  “One more,” she muttered, and veered toward another waiter, her footsteps a bit unsure. “And then I’m going to blow this Popsicle stand.”

  “Indigo!”

  Dread climbed Indi’s neck at the sound of a familiar and falsely friendly voice. Sabrina Moreau, who hosted this ball, had never met a strand of pearls she didn’t like, or, for that matter, an older married man. She tended to wear both as if battle prizes strung about her neck.

  “Bree,” Indi said, while sweeping another goblet of champagne off a passing tray. Her world wobbled, but she ignored the easy drunk that was riding her spine and up the back of her neck.

  “That is the most gorgeous dress I’ve seen,” Bree cooed. “One of your creations?”

  “Of course. It’s Gucci restyled. Mint green certainly is your color.”

  Bree blushed, which only emphasized how terrible the pale green did look on her artificially tanned skin. “Jean-Paul likes me in green. Where’s your date? For as lovely as you look this evening, it can’t be solo. You always have a handsome stunner on your arm.”

  “Todd is...” An asshole. And her heart split to even think that she’d thought she could love the guy. Had she thought that? No, not love. Certainly not so fast. But she’d invested a lot of time in him over the past month. “We broke up. And you know me, I’d never miss a ball, especially when I’ve got the dress.”

  “Oh, sweetie. That’s so sad.”

  Tell her about it. Tightening her lips seemed to keep the tears at bay. Why had she stopped to talk to Bree? She needed to be out of here. Away from the too-happy glow of crystal chandeliers and laughing couples. Now. Someplace dark and quiet so she could lick her wounds.

  “How old are you, Indi?”

  Indi quirked an eyebrow at that delving question.

  “Well, you know what I mean. We’re not getting any younger, are we? Time to wrangle one and get him to put a ring on it. Am I right?” Bree rubbed Indi’s forearm and patted her on the shoulder. “Do you want me to fix you up?”

  “No.” Because she was no longer in the market for rich assholes who liked to spend weekends on their yachts while working all hours and making business calls between kisses and—oh, yeah—between orgasms that never quite pleased her. “I’m good, Bree. Really.”

  Not really.

  Where the hell was the exit?

  “Well, if you need—”

  Indi’s tolerance level dropped out the bottom of her Swarovski crystal strappy heels. She turned and fled from Bree’s prying questions, suspecting she might look like Cinderella fleeing the ball. It was near midnight. But she couldn’t wear the false smile anymore.

  And tears had started to spill without volition.

  Aiming down the hallway toward the front doors, she suddenly stopped and spun, thinking an escape out the back would be much easier. The paparazzi always lurked out front. And while she was no A-list celebrity, she didn’t want to risk photobombing any shots with her distraught tear-streaked mug. She could walk down the street and hail a cab.

  Weaving through the coat-check area and then down a darkened hallway, she passed a few waiters who informed her she wasn’t authorized to be in this area of the building. Flipping them off, Indi mumbled something about not feeling well and needing to be away from the crowd. Finally, escape loomed ahead.

  Pushing the back doors open, she wandered through what must be the loading area. Filing around a parked truck that smelled of diesel fuel, she clutched her skirt so it wouldn’t skim the ground. She’d spent last Saturday afternoon adding the red chiffon poppies to this dress to give color and interest to what had been a crop of beaded green leaves growing up from the hem.

  Finally making the cobblestone street, she looked both ways. La rue Joséphine was to the left; that’s where all the cabs would be parked. Yet the promise of bright streetlights and neon revealing her tears to all made her turn to the right.

  She’d walk a bit. Even if her heels were much too high for a comfortable stroll and the uneven cobblestones made walking with some decorum a joke. She inhaled deeply, as she thought it would help, but instead, the sudden influx of stale air only increased her tears. And she started to sob. The champagne made her head swim.

  Who was she kidding? She was drunk. Which was probably why she hadn’t toppled over yet. The drunkeness was counterbalancing the wobbly-heels-to-ground ratio. Ha!

  She wandered by a homeless man sitting on a piece of cardboard. He cast her a wide-eyed look.

  “What?” she said testily. “This is Paris. Haven’t you ever seen a woman in a ball gown wandering the streets in the middle of the night?”

  She just needed to find a quiet place to break down and bawl. Loud and long. To let the goddess who had been standing at the top of the steps feeling so pretty and special exude the pain of such a sharp and cruel rejection. And then she’d find her way home t
o curl in on herself.

  At the very least, Todd could have texted her before she’d left for the soiree tonight. The bastard!

  “Melanie,” she muttered, and wandered forward. The woman sounded high-maintenance. And like she’d go down on a man on the first date.

  What was wrong with her? She was a nice person. Reasonably pretty. Not too big and not too thin. She had always agreed to whatever Todd wanted to do. She ate at the restaurants he’d chosen, and she even wore the tight red dress that pushed up her tits to her throat when he’d asked her to. What had she done wrong?

  “Wasn’t I good enough for him?”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. Indi pushed forward, wandering mindlessly, then turned down another, narrower street. She knew this neighborhood from girls’ nights out with her BFF. Maybe?

  Pausing, she thrust out her arms to balance as her heel wobbled in a crack between cobblestones. Where in Paris was she?

  “Who cares?”

  Unable to fight the call to release her hurt, Indi released her tears, loudly.

  * * *

  Ryland James stood in the center of a dark, quiet street in FaeryTown. The sword he held in his right hand curved like a scimitar, and was bespelled to kill faeries. He’d found it in a tree years ago, guarded by a dryad, and had claimed it as his own. Of late, Sidhe Slayer was the whispered title he’d been hearing about himself.

  He didn’t need a label. Someone had to stop the collectors who snuck in at midnight from Faery through this, a thin place insinuating FaeryTown. It was smack-dab in the middle of the eighteenth arrondissement of Paris. The collectors arrived in pairs and, if they could get past him, would seek the first human they could find and assume control of that person’s body, then steal a human baby and take it back to Faery.

  Not on his guard.

  Checking his watch, he noted four minutes until midnight. FaeryTown was normally bustling this late at night, but when Ry walked onto the scene the residents scattered, shuffling behind doors and peering out windows to witness the slaughter.

  Lifting his chin, he sniffed the air. His werewolf senses were attuned and he picked up the usual odors of faery presence and very little from humans. FaeryTown overlay this part of Paris. Humans could walk through and would never know faeries occupied the same space only on a different dimension. Humans hadn’t the ability to see faeries, such as he did.