Matthias blinked, his eyes slowly losing their unfocused look. He frowned down at her, slowly sliding his hands from around her waist to step back. “What did you just do to me?”
She waved a nonchalantly. “Oh, that’s just a custom where I come from. You know, when we give our condolences.” It was amazing how easily lies sprang to her own lips.
He narrowed his eyes. “You play dirty.” He knew exactly what she’d been doing. This was a strong alpha, not easily fooled. She’d need to remember that for any future dealings. She’d been surprised he’d resisted the compulsion earlier. That he remembered while supposedly under a fog showed a strength of mind she hadn’t encountered before. But for now, he’d been honest, and wasn’t party to Jared’s death.
“Be thankful I’m only playing.” She turned to the woman on the dais. “Thank you for your cooperation. I formally request that Alpine Pack recognise the court’s jurisdiction over my client, and to ward off action until the trial is decided.”
The lycan next to her growled, low and dangerous, but she kept her gaze on the she-wolf. The woman smirked.
“You expect us to back off? My mate died in his surgery. We won’t back off.”
Vassi pursed her lips. Well, it had been worth a try. “You can’t enforce tribal law if the court has already established jurisdiction,” she reminded the woman gently. Her client was facing trial—the tribes had to respect the process, despite their need to spill blood.
“Then you’d better work fast. If your client is as innocent as he claims,” the woman said softly, “then you’d better prove it. Justice will be served, one way or another.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
* * *
Ryder clenched his fists as he watched from the tree line. He was still in full veil, cloaking himself in the shreds of light, masking his presence. The white wolf stopped at the edge of the snow, sitting on his haunches. The lycan sniffed the air, and for a moment he thought the wolf could actually see him, his gaze zeroing in on his position, but the wolf’s gaze eventually moved on.
Vassiliki trudged behind him, her dark hair a stark contrast to the snow. She paused next to the wolf and looked about enquiringly. The wolf nudged her along, pressing against her with a shoulder before sitting again. The muscles in Ryder’s jaw clenched as he ground his teeth.
She’d kissed the mutt.
He’d seen and heard everything, creeping into the wolves’ den under his mantle of dispersed light. He’d witnessed her ‘interrogation’, and it had taken considerable restraint not to walk up to the kissing couple and tear them apart. Only the fact that he was outnumbered, and by revealing his presence would put his amorous lawyer at risk held him back—although God only knew why he’d felt so … jealous. She was his lawyer, damn it. Not his girlfriend. He watched now through narrowed eyes as she kept walking, leaving the wolf behind her. He’d been so worried about her, so damn anxious over her safety. She’d seemed quite comfortable in the werewolves’ den. Her breath gusted in front of her as she trudged toward the cover of the trees. Not once did she look back at the wolf who watched her.
She passed within inches of his spot, oblivious to his presence, which just rankled him further, although God only knew why. He followed her, then paused when he heard the growl behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. The wolf had tracked his movement. Perhaps he’d made a sound, or his movement had drawn attention to his blurred outline. Either way, the wolf now stood an all paws, teeth bared, erect ears pointing forward.
Ryder smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. He was in wolf territory, he was prey, but given the opportunity, he’d definitely take this wolf on. He met the wolf’s gaze, and relaxed his control over his light so that he could be seen, ever so briefly.
The wolf growled, low and deep, and took a menacing step forward, then another. A twig snapped deep in the woods, and Ryder hoped it was Vassiliki. The white wolf froze, angled his head and listened.
After a moment he returned his gaze to Ryder and lifted his snout, as though gesturing after the sexy vamp, before turning and bounding back across the snow. Ryder frowned. He’d been expecting a fight. Hell, was hoping for one, but the wolf had turned and …
A howl echoed from deep within the forest, and Ryder’s head whipped around. Damn. Neither he nor Vassiliki had been bothered on the way up to Alpine territory, but the forest belonged to Woodland Pack, and they were on the hunt.
Vassiliki.
Chapter Six
Ryder took off running, his feet silent as he pelted through the forest, jumping over bushes and fallen logs, ducking low-hanging branches, his eyes on the tracks Vassiliki had left in the muddy soil. It had been years since he’d done a forest hunt, but after working with miscreants on a constant basis, his skills were still well-honed.
The footprints were becoming deeper and further apart. She’d started running. He lengthened his own stride, trying to figure out how much of a start she had on him. More howling echoed through the forest. More wolves were taking up the cry. They were hunting Vassiliki. No way was he letting his sexy little vamp come to harm. She was under his protection, whether she realised it or not, and he couldn’t let any harm come to her. One woman on his conscience was one too many, he couldn’t stand it if that number rose to two.
He vaulted over a log and skidded as he rounded a bend. There. He could see a blur of white moving through the trees. Damn, she was fast. He left the trail, cutting cross-country to make up time and distance. Her hair trailed behind her, her arms slicing through the air as she ran with the speed and grace of a sprinter in hyper drive. He could hear the wolves running toward them as he jumped and raced down the side of the mountain, taking the shorter, more perilous route to catch up with his lawyer.
Woodland Pack. They were a wild bunch, notorious for territorial disputes and a general disregard for boundaries, rules and governance of any kind. They wouldn’t respect Vassiliki’s claim for treaty as an officer of the court—if they gave her the time to form the request. He rounded a tree, the flash of her white jacket so close. He launched himself, tackling her to the ground.
They fell and rolled, soundless in the woods as she fought him off. She didn’t scream, she didn’t yell—she just fought silently, her talons appearing to slice through the outer lining of his jacket as she tried to buck him off. He clapped a hand over her mouth, wincing when her fangs pricked his palm. He stared into her glowing eyes that were shifting from brown to gold to blood red as she tasted his blood—until she caught his scent, and realisation slowly banked the glow in her eyes to an angry gold. Her talons retracted.
He shifted and rolled, dragging her under the overhanging fronds of a tree fern. He settled himself over her again, using his body to shield hers, extending his veil to cover the vamp beneath him, despite her attempt to shove him off and wriggle out.
He held a finger to his lips, his other hand still covering her mouth as the pad of paws thundered down the path. Werewolves came bounding through the trees, and he peered through the fern fronds. They were searching for them, noses to the ground. He counted four. Guardians, he could tell. They were all slightly larger than the average wolf, built for strength and stamina. They were the boundary wardens, guarding the territory against intrusion. Skilled in the hunt.
Vassiliki was still beneath him, her wide-eyed gaze on the wolves. He waited patiently. As long as they were still, the wolves wouldn’t find them, no matter how close they came to their hiding spot, no matter where their scent trail led them.
In full veil, even his scent was blurred, spreading out and around to seem more like a faint cloud than a strong trail. Using his body to shield Vassiliki’s covered her scent, also.
After a while the wolves howled, frustration evident in their cries, before they trotted off in several directions.
Ryder didn’t relax until he was certain they were alone. He dipped his head to touch his forehead to Vassiliki’s and sighed. Great. They were in Wood
land territory, and guardians were hunting them. Well, hunting the alpha-killing dentist, anyway. Vassiliki would be collateral damage.
If they could just get back to Blanche, they could drive back into Summercliff, which was outside the Woodland boundary. He tried to clear his mind, tried to think rationally of the next thing to do, but the soft body beneath his proved too much of a distraction. Her breasts were crushed beneath his chest and his thighs straddled her hips, his groin against hers.
He should get up. He was probably crushing her. He shifted his head to gaze down at her and saw the unmistakable flare of desire in her now-golden gaze. He hardened against her, heard the hitch in her breath as she felt his arousal, her cinnamon scent teasing at him. He wanted to rock against her, to lick the alabaster skin of her neck, feel her arch beneath him—like she had on the hotel bed.
He blinked at the memory that burst through a fog, of them kissing on the bed, and her asking him questions—just like she’d done with the lycan.
He heaved himself off her, his body screaming in denial. “We should go,” he told her roughly as he rose. He reached down for her, grasping her hand and pulling her easily to her feet, her eyes still golden with desire as she held on to him.
She finally dropped her gaze to their clasped hands. She turned his hand over in hers, sliding the other across his skin in a soft caress, then pouted when she saw the cuts she’d made with her fangs when he’d covered her mouth.
For a moment, his gaze was held by that mouth, those lips pursed in the perfect position for a kiss. She lowered her head slowly and flicked her tongue out to lave the wounds. Like an arrow to his groin, desire shot through his body, hot, hard and damn near uncontrollable as the sexy little vampire licked his wounds. Her pink tongue darted out, and his skin tingled wherever she touched him, her gaze never leaving his as she wove an erotic spell around him.
Hard as a rock, he wanted to pull her back down onto the sweet earth and torment her with the same wicked attention—but he wouldn’t stop at her hand. He wanted to lick her all over. She avoided his grasp and let go of his hand.
“You’re right,” she said huskily. Her chest rose beneath the white parka. He wanted to rip it off her, frustrated by its ability to mask her body from his gaze. “We should go, before the guardians return.”
She took off jogging, like a white ghost lost in the trees. For a moment he stood there, gaping, his hand still raised, the cool breeze dancing across and chilling his skin where she’d left her delicate kisses. The small wounds were already healing, a warm sensation spreading up his arm—and down to his groin. He could barely walk, damn it.
But she was right, they were in the middle of a forest with a small army of wolves hunting them. He took off at an uncomfortable jog. He hated that she was right. Hated that she’d so easily wrung a reaction from his body. Hated that he wasn’t the only one she’d kissed, and hated himself for hating that.
* * *
Vassi kept her gaze on the screen, despite the temptation of watching Max dry himself with a towel, his jeans zipped but unfastened. She’d seen his reaction in the forest, had felt his arousal, and it had inflamed hers. She wasn’t a prude, but she did have one rule—never get involved with a client. What she’d been tempted to do, what she’d been tempted to allow him to do—shouldn’t be done. Period.
She opened up her email, keeping her gaze on her device as notices started to load. She immediately clicked on the medical examiner’s preliminary report. Besides, the man had issues, aside from the glaring one of a murder charge hanging over his head. He’d left his family. She shook her head. That was so hard for her to wrap her brain around.
As a half-blood, she was one of those creatures with a foot in each tribe, but never really belonging in either. The vampire colony of her father didn’t like the taint of human in her. She was seen as weak, her humanity an inescapable vulnerability. She wasn’t subject to the same blood craving as her father’s colony, wasn’t driven by the need to slake her thirst for blood with the death of a human. She liked the taste of blood, and she did need it to survive, but she could also eat human food—bloodlust didn’t drive her actions at the cost of another’s life.
She’d long learned never to reveal her truthseeking abilities—either to her father’s colony, or the humans of her mother’s acquaintance. Truthseekers were viewed as intruders, trespassing through the consciousness without permission. Nobody wanted others to know when they were concealing the truth, nobody liked to be exposed in that way—and many would kill to keep their secrets safe.
On the other hand, her mother’s family treated her existence with the same shame and disappointment as a divorce in the Catholic Church eons ago, before the Reformation. Some of them acknowledged her, but most treated her as though they expected her to go all blood-crazy on them and attack. There were some, though, a very special few, who treated her with respect. She hoped one day that would grow to acceptance, maybe even love. Until then, she had her work to keep her busy, to keep her company at night and on family holidays.
For Max to just discard his family, one that had apparently accepted and approved of him, went against everything that Vassi held dear. If she had a family who acknowledged her, who welcomed her—possibly even loved her—there was no way she would abandon them.
Max strolled back into the bathroom, and her gaze followed his movement, that sexy shoulder roll thing he did when he moved drawing her focus. He reminded her of some of the cats she’d seen in nightclubs, the graceful motion of their body to their own hidden rhythm. He had broad shoulders, well-muscled with smooth, golden skin. His back was just as gorgeous as his front. Her gaze dropped to his jeans. That butt … she sighed. No, she didn’t get involved with clients.
He hung up the towel on the rail then turned, meeting her gaze. He paused in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. Her mouth dried. His chest, his stomach, all bore the ridged proof of his strength. He looked like a calendar pin-up, lounging in the bedroom with a challenging glint to his gaze. God, she wanted to get involved with her client.
“What did you learn from the Alpine wolves?” he asked, his deep timbre rolling over her body, building an awareness she was trying very hard to ignore. His gaze was intent. He hadn’t really spoken since they’d left the forest, keeping his own counsel as he’d driven that cramped little car back down to the motel in Summercliff. She’d been too intent on trying to get control of her body, squelching her arousal so that she could pretend to be cool, calm and collected. She briefly wondered why his curiosity had taken so long to surface. Then she wondered what the hell he’d been doing in the forest when he was supposed to be waiting for her in the car, how he could appear out of nowhere, or how four guardians could possibly have missed them. She was hesitant to ask though. She didn’t want him to lie to her, not again.
“I don’t believe anyone there is responsible for the alpha’s death,” she told him. “His mate is pregnant. She had no reason to want him dead. In fact, she had a very important reason for him to remain alive.”
Max nodded. “I see. What about the others?” he asked casually, levering himself away from the jamb and walking over to the chair where she’d draped her ski jacket.
“The others?” she watched him move, enjoying the play of the lamplight over his golden skin.
“Yeah, you know, the one you kissed.”
She blinked. “How did you—you saw that?” She shook her head. She hadn’t seen him in the den. How had he known?
“Yeah. I did.” He reached for her jacket and she rose from the bed as he pulled the lipstick vial out of the pocket. “I saw everything,” he told her, holding up the case as he arched an eyebrow.
“Then you know what he said,” she murmured, her heart beating faster. She reached for the vial, but he raised it above his head. She didn’t like anybody else handling her stuff. She didn’t want anybody to guess her other skills—that was too dangerous. “How could you see? Where were you?” It was inconceivable that such a
big man could sneak into the heart of a wolves’ den without being discovered. No wonder Matthias had been sniffing like a flu-struck dog. He must have caught some of Max’s scent.
“I didn’t like that you went in there without protection, so I followed you.”
“Are you mad? Do you know what could have happened if you’d been caught?” She frowned. He’d taken such a risk.
“But I didn’t get caught,” he said quietly. He turned the vial in his hand. “Interesting. Yesterday I wanted to crawl onto that bed and make love to you, and I couldn’t remember how I got to that point.”
She swallowed. He was guessing, surely. He couldn’t know—not for sure. She tamped down on the wave of panic, trying to retain some calm, some control. Nobody could know.
She tried to laugh, to dismiss his remarks. “That’s hardly flattering. Wanting to make love to me and not knowing why.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or is it the how that escapes you?” She was being deliberately provocative, she knew. Anything to divert his attention, to make him focus on something other than her lipstick, and what happened when she used it.
She folded her arms in front of her, feeling the raised ridges of skin on the side of her abdomen through her clothes. Nobody could know.
His eyelids lowered, his gaze sliding to her, and suddenly she was breathless. That look, that wicked, knowing, seductive look, promised all sorts of dark, dangerous things. “Oh, I can figure out the how, trust me,” he said, his voice low. “But I’m interested as to how I could kiss a woman and completely forget about it.”
Well, darn. How did she respond to that? Just leaving his remark alone stung her ego. Damn it, if she kissed him without the truth serum, he’d bloody well remember it—not that she could tell him, though, because then she’d have to admit to using the truth serum.
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