The wolf moved his head, startling Carly. He made a sound that almost sounded like, I don’t know, to her.
How ridiculous! “Look at me, Papa.”
The old wolf lifted his head, his tail thumping against the cold concrete floor.
“Do you like me to call you Papa?”
He whined and licked her hand, causing her to jump and give him a wobbly smile. “You won’t get mad all of a sudden and eat me, will you?” she asked, laughing nervously. “Geez, I hope that wasn’t just a taste test.” She fought the urge to wipe her hand on her pants.
The wolf put his head back down on the floor and closed its eyes.
“Oh, my God. They do understand what he says!”
“Are you two having a pleasant conversation?” Bastien looked down at the two of them. “Were you good or are you sleeping on the floor in the kitchen tonight?”
Carly smiled. “He was good, Bastien. The two of us had an enjoyable visit.”
Bastien patted the wolf on the head, while Carly’s hand still rested on the wolf’s side.
“Okay, Papa,” he said, turning his attention back to the wounded wolf. He shook out the blanket and placed it on the floor in front of him. “I need you to move onto the blanket. If I’m not mistaken, you have a few cracked ribs and I could hurt you, if I lifted you.”
He helped the animal by gently lifting it by the neck, keeping his voice low and soothing, explaining everything he did as he transferred the wolf to the thick cover.
Bracing his arms beneath the wolf’s chest, Bastien helped the injured wolf lower himself onto the blanket where the wolf fell back down, panting.
“Now comes the hard part.” Bastien gave Carly an unreadable look. “Carrying him into the house won’t be easy.”
The emaciated wolf was still extremely heavy. Her hands were cramping by the time they lugged him across the back lawn and into the house and put him on the sleeper sofa in Bastien’s office.
“We want him to be comfortable. He’s had it pretty rough.” The haunted expression in Bastien’s eyes whenever he looked at the old wolf touched her heart.
“I’m telling you, Carly, it has to be true. I read it in the National Intruder.”
Carly shook her head, grinning. “Haley, the reports you read in that rag,” she pointed at the paper on the counter, “are about as reliable as Carmen Sanford.” She named one of the store cashiers, notorious for calling in sick regularly.
“Look,” Haley said, opening the paper to the appropriate page.
The headline jumped out at her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as she read the bold type.
Werewolves Found in Sleepy Michigan Town. The story told of a small community of werewolves living in her town! She felt her throat close off as she thought about Papa and what had happened to him. Had some nutcase thought he was a werewolf and captured him? That would explain many things. Still, the question remained, how had he lost his leg? He hadn’t done that to himself.
She shook off the strange sense of foreboding and holding the paper up, she waved it at Haley. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“Nah,” Haley waved her away. “You can have it. I’ve read it already.”
Later, she tried to find a nonchalant way to show the paper to Bastien. What if there was some nut in town capturing wolves for testing? How long would it be before they turned their attention to the people? She settled with leaving the paper on the counter in the kitchen where she was sure he would see it. She had no reason to fear showing him the article. So, what was making her so damned scared?
That werewolves existed was a ridiculous idea. The thought that educated people believed in such fantastic creatures boggled her mind.
Positive the whole thing was some tabloid hoax, she left the paper where Bastien would see it, just the same. No matter how absurd the whole thing seemed, she would never forget Bastien’s easy way with the wild animals in his care. The way he talked to them as if they were human, or half-human. She bit her lip.
Could werewolves really exist? She shook her head, laughing at herself.
“That’s just plain stupid, Carly,” she said to herself, reaching for the paper to throw it in the trash.
Chapter Thirteen
“What’s just stupid?” Bastien asked, reaching around her to pluck the bowl of salad from the counter. “I hope dinner is ready. I’m starving.” Not waiting for her answer, he crossed to the stove and heaped a plate with potatoes and gravy, Swiss steak, and green beans.
Between working in the barn most of the day and staying up all night to check on his father, he was exhausted.
“You must be hungry.”
He looked down at the plate and grinned. “Starved is what I am. However, this one isn’t for me. This is for my Pa... patient.”
Carly gaped at him, twisting a rolled-up newspaper in her hands.
“Don’t you... Don’t they...” She cleared her throat. “I thought you fed them dog food or something.”
Bastien curled his lip. “Dog food? That’s for—” He cut himself short and turned toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Shit! He’d almost let the cat out of the proverbial bag with that one. Dog food is fine for the real animals, is what he’d almost said. Was she figuring them out? The woman was too observant for her own good. He took the plate to his father, practically threw it on the bed in front of him and paced.
“What should I do, Papa? I think she knows.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Or if she doesn’t know, she’ll figure it out soon enough. I think she suspects something. I can’t force her to accept us, and I will not force her compliance. She’s my mate. She’s not tied to me, yet my body burns for her like it has for no other. I don’t know what to do.”
He turned troubled eyes to his father, who looked torn between listening and eating.
“Eat, old man, you can still listen while I rant.”
I feel a bit better, stronger now. Thank you, boy.
Bastien stopped pacing and threw his father a relieved smile. “You must feel better if you can communicate with more than mental images and grunts now.”
Watch it, boy. I’ll still be able to kick your ass after I heal, even with only three legs. His father bent his head back to the plate and took a mouthful of the tender Swiss steak. She is an excellent cook, your mate. You’re lucky. Your mother could burn water.
Bastien walked to the door and looked down the hallway before he responded. “She’s human, Papa. I don’t want her to do what Mother did.”
She is strong, Bastien, and curious. She is worthy to be your mate. You must stop calling me Papa. Call me Malcolm instead. You’re right. She grows suspicious.
“She can’t possibly suspect the truth.”
Perhaps not. Yet, it is enough that she suspects something. Malcolm licked the plate clean. Be sure to tell her she is a wonderful cook. Now leave me be, pup, so I can get some rest.
Bastien brought the empty plate back to the kitchen and set it in the sink. “He’s getting stronger,” he said with a relieved grin. “He’s nowhere near as strong as he should be, but we’re making progress. It’s a start.”
Carly raised a brow. “It isn’t any wonder the wolf is getting stronger with the amount of food it eats.” She smiled. “I’m glad we’re making progress with the old wolf, though.”
Spending time with the old wolf over the last week had been a learning experience for her. Bastien hoped she’d learned that it didn’t have to hurt to have feelings for something. Or someone. Bastien watched her as he sat at the table filling his plate.
“Have I told you you’re a wonderful cook?” he asked, licking a drop of gravy from his thumb. “Malcolm seems to think so, too.”
“Malcolm?” She looked over at him, her head tilted a bit to the side. A little crease formed between her brows. “I don’t remember a Malcolm.”
“Oh. I meant Papa. I’ve decided to call him Malcolm. You were right. It seems kind of weird to call him Papa.”
Chapter Fourteen
Two more weeks passed, and Carly lay on her bed, reading the same issue of the International Intruder. There was more going on around Bastien’s estate than what met the eye.
Even so, werewolves were a huge stretch for her imagination. Hell, they’d be a stretch for anyone’s imagination.
She tucked the paper under her mattress and stood up. This was her day off at the lab and she planned to spend it with Malcolm, trying to help him learn how to compensate for his missing limb.
She led the old wolf outside and coaxed him to trot next to her. He was a bit slow, but he was getting better. “Soon, you’ll be running around so well, you won’t even miss it,” she said, patting him on the head. “How about a walk to the barn? Maybe you can visit with Kyle.”
Carly heard a high-pitched whistle just before a bee stung her on the neck. “Ow!” Raising her hand, she slapped the insect away. Only it was not an insect. She gaped at the small, feathered needle in her palm.
“Oh, my God! A tranquilizer dart?”
AFTER BASTIEN LEFT Carly with his father, he went to his sister’s house where he could meet with others of his kind without the fear of Carly walking in on them. He knew he would have to tell her about their species. He just didn’t want to have to do it today, with witnesses. His conscience would never allow him to start a relationship with her until she knew everything about him.
“I don’t understand,” his sister said, pacing across the large living room. “How did these people know Papa is a were?”
Bastien shook his head. “Don’t you think I’ve asked myself the same thing? I wish he could shift back, however, he is still healing. It’s going to be at least another week before he’s strong enough to shift so he can talk to us all easily.”
“He’s talked to you.”
“Yes, he has. As you know, even a mental link is draining, especially for him now. Not only does he have his injuries to deal with, he has had to endure a withdrawal from the drugs they pumped into him while he was there. He talks to me using a link. After a while he can only project images.” He sat down, putting his head in his hands. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen through him.” He looked up at his sister and cousins. “We’re lucky he’s still alive.”
“Has he been able to tell you the location of the lab?” his sister, Natalia, asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure he knows. I think pure instinct brought him back here. One of us is going to have to shift and follow his scent back there. If we can. It’s been a while now. The trail could be cold.”
“I can follow a blood trail a month old,” his cousin, Luke, boasted, standing up. “You said he was bleeding when he reached your house?”
“Yes. What’s left of his right front leg was still dripping when I found him.”
“What’s left of his leg?” Natalia made a small sound of anguish and tears filled her eyes. “Poor Papa.” She stood to join them. “I’m going with you. I want to see him.”
Bastien nodded. “Just be sure you watch what you say and don’t slip up around Carly.”
“I won’t.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why do you call her by that ridiculous name? Her name is Charlene.”
Bastien sighed. “Because her abusive ex-husband calls her nothing but Charlene and I refuse to bring those memories back. She deserves better. And she will get better so long as it remains in my power.”
Luke’s brother, Markus, slapped him on the back. “She deserves better than you, too, Cuz. Yet, I don’t see you stepping aside.
“And you won’t, Cuz.” Bastien said with a playful growl. “She’s mine.”
“She just doesn’t know it yet.” Natalia grinned at Bastien. “Am I right?”
He looked at his sister. “She will soon enough.”
Luke laughed. “Yeah, as soon as you dig up the courage to tell her what you are.”
The smile faded from Natalia’s face and she turned to him. “That was a low blow, Luke. Can you blame him for being apprehensive after what our mother did?”
Luke stopped chuckling, bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t thinking, you two. Please, accept my apologies.”
Bastien nodded. “If we’re going to do this, we’d better get moving. The trail back to the lab only gets weaker with every passing moment.”
Following him out to his truck, they agreed taking only one vehicle would be a good idea. The scent of the exhaust would not be as strong with only one vehicle entering the area. The likelihood of covering the trail was a real possibility, even with Luke’s sensitive nose.
Bastien knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped through the front door. There was no noise. No radio playing or dishes clinking in the kitchen, and the scent of intruders permeated everything in the house. He stopped and reached out with his senses. Even concentrating on Carly’s scent, he felt nothing but the lingering traces of an invading malevolence.
The others felt it as well. Each of them had their eyes closed, reaching out with their minds. Gleaning everything they could from the little evidence left behind.
Carly was gone. His father was gone. Bastien knew it, yet he couldn’t help hoping he was wrong. He ran up the stairs, slamming the doors open, searching everywhere. There was no trace of his mate or his father. It was his fault they were missing. He never should have left them alone.
“It’s not your fault, Bastien,” Natalia said, slipping her arms around his waist from behind.
“I never should have left them alone.” He pulled from her embrace and punched the wall in front of him. The plaster gave way and his fist went through the wall, giving evidence to his anger and frustration. He turned and ran back down the stairs and out the back door. It was a long shot, but he had to check. “Oh, shit!” The kennels were gone. Every one of them. Even Bosco was missing.
“How did they know to come here, Bastien?” his sister asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“I don’t know. If they know about this safe house, they could know about all of them.” He turned to his sister. “Natalia, you stay here and warn the others.” He tossed her the keys to his truck. “Tell those with children to leave the area. Then gather the rest of the adults together. There has to be a way to fight back.”
Bastien’s temper blazed. Someone had violated his home and taken his mate from him. God help those who had taken her, because no one else could. He turned toward the door and faced his cousins. He met Luke’s eyes and undressed. “Well, Cousin, it seems we have a fresh trail to follow, after all.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Carly slowly regained consciousness, she was curled into a ball on a swaying bed. Why was the bed swaying? She sniffed. Why did she feel and smell like a wet dog? Her head ached and she felt sick to her stomach. It wasn’t any wonder with the way the bed kept moving from side to side.
She sat up and banged her head on something. Reaching up, she felt thin metal bars. She was in a cage, a kennel, just like the ones in Bastien’s barn. Maybe she was in Bastien’s barn. She banished the thought as soon as it occurred to her. Bastien would never do this to her.
If she had learned anything from him in the last several weeks, it was that he was a gentle soul and would never do something like this. Well, he wouldn’t do it without provocation.
Carly curled her fingers around the wire caging her and realized why she was moving. She was in the back of a truck. Everything came back to her. The strange sound in the woods behind the house. What she’d originally thought was a bee sting on her neck, until she had reached up to brush the insect away. It was a tranquilizer dart. Someone hiding in the woods had shot her with it.
Malcolm had run as fast as his three legs would carry him, toward the woods, growling and snarling at her attacker only to get shot himself. After that, everything went black, and she knew nothing until she’d regained consciousness here in the back of the truck. She looked around.
Kennels surrounded her. She could barely make out the shape o
f a wolf in the cage to her left. The cage to her right held the panther. What had Bastien named her? Sasha—yes, that was it.
Plus, there was no mistaking Bosco’s gamey smell. He was clean as bears went, she supposed, however he had an odor that was uniquely his own.
Oh, my God, it is true! It had to be, even though she knew it was a fantastic stretch. There were people out there who believed in werewolves. They must have thought she was a werewolf, too! She grabbed onto the cage and shook it. She reached through the wire and tried to release the latch. Damn a padlock! She slumped to the floor of her cage. It was no use. It was inescapable.
Cool wind rushed over her and she shivered. Wrapping her arms around herself, she curled into a tiny ball, trying to conserve her body’s warmth. If they didn’t stop soon, she would die of exposure, although, as dying went, freezing to death might not be as bad as someone torturing or experimenting on her.
Carly rested her face on her knees. The tears that ran down her face felt as though they were freezing on her cheeks. She had no one who would look for her. No one who would care that she had gone missing. Except maybe Bastien and the girls at the lab, but that would only be because they would have to replace her.
Carly laughed. She was probably in shock. Maybe this wasn’t really happening. Maybe Robert’s last attack on her had finally driven her over the edge to madness. Soon, the hysterical laughter turned to hopeless tears and her teeth chattered from the cold.
“It doesn’t matter, Carly. They won’t get to keep you,” she told herself. “You’ll die of exposure long before they get you to wherever it is they’re going.”
Soon, Kyle and Sasha shifted their positions, blocking a portion of the wind. Each of them rested their warm bodies against the wall of the kennel closest to hers, effectively sharing their body heat with her.
Carly cried even more when she realized she really was going mad. She was believing in the possibility that the absurd things she’d read in the article were true.
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