Wolf King (Wolves of New York #1)

by Bella Jacobs

  “Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her suddenly guilty looking face.

  “I want to help figure out the puzzle, to see why this happened so we can keep it from happening again,” she says, but her pretty green eyes don’t light up from inside.

  They stay cool and dim, and I remind my stupid body that she can’t be trusted.

  Not yet, not until I learn all her secrets.

  Because she’s keeping secrets, of that I’m certain, even before I join my second-in-command in the enforcer offices a few minutes later and see the security camera footage frozen on the screen.

  The image is of a woman who looks far more like Willow than I remember.

  She’s changed since I saw her last, but that’s Kelley, no doubt in my mind.

  Kelley, breaking into our artifacts room just seconds after the bomb exploded, taking advantage of our pack’s distraction to fill her bag and creep out through the ventilation system without being noticed.

  Willow’s sister was part of this attack. And what are the chances it’s just a coincidence that Kelley came back from the dead twenty-four hours after her sister showed up under my roof?

  Slim to fucking none is the answer to that.

  But I need more answers. A lot fucking more.

  Like what did she take, what does she want, and most importantly, where is my brother? Because I can’t believe Bane had anything to do with this. My brother would never hurt our people. Never.

  And I know exactly where to start my investigation.

  As soon as my dad’s attendant rolls his wheelchair into the room, I nod toward the offices down the hall. “We have to talk, Dad. Now.”

  “We do,” he agrees. His tired eyes are more haunted than I can remember seeing them, even after my brother left.

  My father’s a good-natured man, tough, but fair, and always looking for an excuse to smile.

  But he’s not smiling now, and neither am I.

  It’s time he shared the rest of the North Star Alpha secrets with me.

  Past time.

  Chapter 16

  Willow

  Back in my room, I take the first freezing cold shower of my life.

  I’m not usually the type who needs cold showers to cool down, but I don’t usually lose control the way I did tonight.

  I almost had unprotected sex with a man I’ve known less than forty-eight hours—that would have been bad enough on its own, considering I have no idea what kind of exotic cooties Maxim might have swimming around in his bloodstream. From the gossip I’ve been able to glean so far, he’s no choir boy. It sounds like he enjoys the company of women, the more free-spirited and willing to fuck and run, the better.

  I’m not about to bash other women—or Maxim—for sleeping around, but I don’t want to get an STD from the first man I have sex with.

  And I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I barely know or a man I still suspect might be a huge fucking jerk.

  At the very least, I want friendship and mutual respect.

  At most, I want the dream.

  I want that perfect, fated mate relationship with a man who adores me, worships me. A man who would lay down his life for mine in a heartbeat and knows I would do the same for him.

  I want a forever love that’s written in the stars.

  Even yesterday, I would have told myself, “Tough shit, sister. You lost the fated mate Olympics when you ended up with Pax,” but now I’m not so sure.

  I’ve never felt anything like what I feel when I’m with Maxim, a draw so powerful I know I’d spread my legs for him again in a heartbeat if he walked through the door to my rooms right now and told me he couldn’t wait to be inside me. One look from those smoldering eyes and all my good intentions would fall away.

  And it’s not because I’m in love with him—I barely know him, and a lot of what I do know I don’t really care for.

  And it’s not just sex, either. I’ve been attracted to other men before, and even come with Zeke’s hand down my pants. I know what that feels like. It’s overwhelming, exciting, electric, but I’ve never felt like I would die if a man quit touching me.

  Like, literally shrivel into a sad little husk of a woman and blow away.

  But it feels like that with Maxim.

  It feels urgent, necessary…ordained.

  What if Victor was lying about Pax being my mate, like both Maxim and Hermione have hinted at since I’ve been here? What if he paid off the star chart readers to say his son was the one meant for me?

  I have no idea why he would do that—I’m a nobody—but Maxim was right last night.

  It is weird that both Kelley and I were matched with Darius men. I didn’t have much time to think about that in all the stress of being mated with Pax and nearly being raped and then running away from everything I’ve ever known, but I’m thinking about it now.

  I can’t stop, in fact.

  I pace the length of my suite, from the window in the bedroom, through the door into the sitting room, and across the wide space to the other window on the opposite side, again and again, my head spinning with unanswered questions, until finally my growling stomach brings me back to the here and now.

  I haven’t eaten much today and nothing since my light lunch of a grilled cheese and arugula salad. Remembering Maxim’s directions, I cross to the phone on the desk in the sitting room and lift the receiver.

  I have a dial tone—I didn’t last night—proving he’s a man of his word.

  At least about that.

  I press zero and am connected to room service where I order tonight’s special—lamb chops with polenta and roasted root vegetables—and then resume my pacing, trying to ignore the constant grumbling of my belly.

  Thankfully the food arrives in just twenty minutes, rolled in on a linen-covered cart by a tall man with scarred knuckles accompanied by the guard stationed outside my room. I thank them both profusely and manage not to start drooling at the delicious smells emanating from the recently uncovered plates until after they’ve both stepped outside into the hall again.

  But the second I’m alone, I snag a roasted baby carrot from the main plate and pop it into my mouth, moaning as the sweet and tart balsamic glaze floods across my tongue.

  “Damn,” I mutter, following the carrot with a slice of turnip and another carrot. “You are some delicious little veggies, roasted root vegetables. And how about you, meaty bits? Are you yummy, too?”

  I snag a lambchop by the bone and lean over the cart as I take a huge bite.

  Juice drips off my chin to ping onto the plate, proving I’m a savage, but I don’t care.

  Because that lamb?

  It’s damned perfection.

  A revelation in meat form.

  “So good.” I moan. “You’re a star, lambchop. A shining shooting star.”

  “Do you always talk to your food?” comes a soft whisper from under the cart, making me jump and cry out, dropping the meat back onto the plate as I stumble backwards.

  “Shh!” the voice comes again. “Don’t freak out or they’ll come back in and catch me. It’s Diana. I’m under here, but you have to let me out.”

  Pressing a hand to my chest, where my heart is slamming, I ask, “How?”

  “Just lift the tray off and unlatch the lid. I can take it from there.”

  I do as she says, setting my meal on the desk before unhooking the latches on one side of the top of the cart and tossing it open. I lean over, glancing down to see Maxim’s sister balled up in a wad at the bottom of the hollow space.

  Wincing, she extends a hand, “Help, please? My legs are asleep.”

  I grasp her hand and then her elbow as she emerges with stiff and jerky movements and a good deal of cursing beneath her breath.

  “Wow,” she says, collapsing onto the thickly padded footstool nearby. “I’m not twelve anymore. That was a lot easier when there was less of me to hide.”

  I nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to wal
k again if I were in stuffed in there.” I nod over my shoulder, toward the tray of food. “Do you want something to eat? A roll to ease your pain? A really stand out roasted carrot? I would offer one of my lamb chops, but there are only three and they really want to live in my belly. They told me so.”

  She shakes her head with a stiff smile. “No, thanks. I can’t eat. My stomach is in knots. But you go ahead. And chat up the baby carrots and chops as much as you want. I can wait until you’re done to talk.”

  “No, go ahead.” I pull out the desk chair, angling it so I can divide my attention between Diana and my meal. “I can eat and listen at the same time. The food knows how I feel about it already.”

  Her lips twitch, but her smile fades before it can fully form.

  “Come on,” I urge gently. “You look like something’s really bothering you. Is it about the explosion?”

  She nods. “Yes. I’m so relieved no one was hurt, but there’s a rumor going around that cat shifters were part of it. And that’s crazy. They would never do something like this. Not the Spanish Harlem pride, anyway, and they’re the only cat shifters anywhere close to here. They are the sweetest, gentlest people you’ll ever meet, Willow, I swear. They don’t have a violent bone in their bodies. Even when they probably should.”

  I pull in a breath, hating that I have to be the one to tell her what went down, but she rushes on before I can speak.

  “One time, a bunch of homeless teenagers raided their warehouse,” she says. “They stole all the jewelry the pride was going to sell at concerts and stuff to cover their bills for the year.”

  I nod and return to taking down lamb chops, hoping the extra protein will make it easier to break the bad news.

  “It was, like, a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of product,” she continues. “And they had the kids on camera, so they knew exactly who did it. They could have gone to the human police and nailed them to the wall. But they didn’t. All they did was ask them to give the jewelry back and promised they would help them find food and shelter if they did. And they did! The pride got their stuff back and helped all six kids get set up with good foster families and jobs at one of the grocery stores they own.”

  Her breath rushes out and her eyes begin to shine. “And they do stuff like that all the time, Willow. They are such amazing people. They make me hopeful, you know? Hopeful that we can learn to solve our problems with kindness and compassion, and we won’t have to keep fighting humans and each other all the time. That we can actually make the world a better, more peaceful place.”

  I set the last picked-clean bone back on my plate and push it away. “I know. Truly, I do. But—”

  “But nothing,” she insists. “They are innocent. They didn’t do this, I know they didn’t.”

  I sigh. “Maybe not, but a man attacked me tonight, Diana. He tried to kidnap me. And he wasn’t just a man. He was a tiger shifter.”

  Chapter 17

  Willow

  Diana’s eyes go saucer wide. “What? Oh my God, Willow, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Here I am, sitting here running my mouth and you’re probably still totally freaked out.”

  “I’m okay, and I’m fine…considering. But a cat was absolutely involved. I saw him shift.” I shudder. “Nearly met the ugly side of his teeth and claws, too.”

  Her forehead furrows. “No way. Really?”

  I nod. “I’m sorry, but yes. He’s in custody now. You can probably sneak down and get a look at him if you want. See if he’s someone you or your boyfriend might know.”

  Her brow wrinkles harder. “There’s only one tiger in the Spanish Harlem pride, and Becca’s still a kid. Maybe twelve, thirteen tops.”

  “See, that’s good,” I say, the tightness in my chest easing a bit. “So, maybe this guy was hired muscle from somewhere else and not part of your friend’s pride at all.”

  “Maybe, but…” She plucks at her bottom lip for a moment before she adds in a softer voice, “Becca’s dad is the head of the Albany pride. He’s a tiger, too. Becca lives down here with her mom because her dad’s so busy.” She rolls her eyes. “And rumor has it that he and Becca’s mom have been on the outs since he joined this secret society a lot of the shifters upstate are into a few years ago. It’s all about prophecies and the end of the world and stuff. Pretty out there, even for cats, and they tend to be kind of woo-woo to start with.”

  “Huh,” I say, crossing my legs and then recrossing them, chewing on that information. I was certain the kidnapping had something to do with Pax and Victor, but…maybe not. Of course, that’s assuming Becca’s dad is the guy who tried to take me. “I don’t suppose you know Becca’s dad’s name, do you? So we can look him up online?”

  Diana scrunches her nose. “Matt, I think? Or maybe Chris?”

  I nod and offer dryly, “Matt and Chris do sound a lot alike.”

  Her lips twitch. “Hey, they’re both short, ordinary boy names. It was something like that, something super normal. I remember that because it was so different than his nickname. They call him Shere Khan, after the tiger in The Jungle Book, because he’s so freaking huge.”

  My stomach sinks. “Yeah, I think you’d better go take a look at him when you can, snap a pic of him or something to show to your boyfriend. Because I swear, I was thinking about Shere Khan when he was after me. He was insanely huge and scary.” I pause, replaying the attack in my mind through the lens of this new information before I add, “But he didn’t hurt me. He might have if Maxim and his enforcers hadn’t showed up, but it seemed like he just wanted me to come with him. Though I can’t imagine why, unless he was working for my Alpha and was sent to fetch me so they can string me up by my intestines outside the Blood River pack headquarters.”

  Diana shakes her head. “I can’t imagine that. All the cats I know hate the Parallel wolves. And Becca’s dad is a boss in his own right. He doesn’t work for other people; other people work for him.”

  “So, maybe he had the wrong person,” I say, returning to my other theory. “Maybe he was here to take you and grabbed me by accident? Were you supposed to go to the theater with Maxim tonight?”

  She snorts. “Hell, no. Maxim doesn’t have fun anymore. He just stalks around barking orders and glaring at people all the time. I’m shocked he took you, honestly. What was his motive? Do you hate musicals or something? Was it a unique brand of torture?”

  “No, I love musicals,” I say, then confess, “And we were having a really good time until the explosion. Your brother was…nice tonight.”

  She snorts again. “Maybe he’s been possessed by a friendly ghost. Did you bring one with you when you jumped through the portal?”

  “No, I’ve been trying to lay off the ghost possessions. High stakes habit. Too much karmic debt.”

  Diana laughs beneath her breath. “I was kidding.”

  “Me, too,” I murmur. I twist a lock of hair around my fingers, the way I do when trying to solve a sneaky equation in the lab. It usually helps me think and this time is no different. “So maybe he mistook me for someone else. Does your brother have…a lady friend who might look like me from the back?”

  Her brows float up her forehead and her eyes lift to the ceiling. “That’s a good question. Um…not Trix or Krissy, for sure. They’re tall, skinny fairy types and at least a foot taller.”

  Great, tall skinny fairies, who are all unfailingly gorgeous.

  Nothing to feel insecure about there, Willow.

  “Maybe Ava, a little,” Diana continues. “You’re both brunette, but she has all these bright pink streaks in her hair and loads of super cool witch tattoos.”

  I scrunch my nose and try not to think about the that fact that nothing I have ever done, said, or worn could ever be called “super cool.”

  “I think he and Vivian broke things off a few months ago,” she adds, “but she’s at least about your height.” Her gaze returns to my face and she frowns. “You okay?”

  I will my jaw to unclench. “I’m fine.”

&n
bsp; “You look like you just sucked a lemon wedge.”

  “Your brother has a lot of girlfriends.”

  “They’re not girlfriends, they’re women he fucks,” she says flatly. “He’s such a player. And then has the nerve to tell me I shouldn’t flirt with the human boys at my school. And all I do is flirt. I’ve never even kissed anyone but Jacob.” Worry flickers in her eyes. “You didn’t tell Maxim, did you? That I have a cat shifter boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No, I wanted to talk to you first. But…I think you should tell him, Diana.” She groans and buries her face in her hands, but I push on, “I know it’s going to be awful, but he needs to know. For the safety of the pack. And your safety. If Jacob is a good guy, which I’m sure he is because you would be able to see in his aura if he wasn’t, then you two can get through this. And maybe even be able to stop sneaking around.”

  Her hands slide down to her lap with another groan. “Oh, Willow, you’re so cute and hopeful. But my brother doesn’t work that way. He’s not a reasonable human. He’s a psycho who rushes to conclusions and refuses to listen to anyone who isn’t Hermione, one of his top guards, or sometimes, Dad. And not even Dad all the time. Deep down, I think Maxim blames Dad for getting poisoned. Like, if he’d been meaner to outsiders, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “What if I go with you?” I ask. “And help you break the news?”

  Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. “Oh, hell no. I’m not going to be responsible for your murder. I don’t want blood on my hands, thanks.”

  I smile. “He won’t murder me. He likes me now.”

  Or at least he’s pretty damned desperate to get into my pants, maybe even desperate enough to listen when I talk.

  Diana laughs. “Oh, sweet Willow. I really do like you, but you’re insane. Maxim will gobble you up and spit out your bones. And then he’ll lock me in a cage until he can arrange for me to be sent to a convent school for wayward shifter teens in Outer Mongolia.”