Wolf in Waiting

by Rebecca Flanders

  Sebastian nodded, sipping his tea. “I thought as much. You used an executive’s password to gain access to e-mail transmissions and certain classified documents?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Her voice didn’t tremble, her gaze didn’t waver. I could have burst with pride.

  Sebastian said, “Why?”

  I wanted to answer that, to tell him that she had done it on my orders, but she answered for herself and without hesitation.

  “I did it out of concern for the welfare of the pack, and loyalty to the pack leader.”

  God, I loved her. Even Sebastian experienced a flicker of admiration for her; I saw it in his eyes before he hid it.

  He said, “And what did your findings lead you to conclude?”

  Now it was my turn to step in. I said, “Greg Stillman has been conducting unauthorized correspondence with someone at Castle St. Clare about Moonsong. He has deliberately released classified information about the project to the press and quite possibly to other industry professionals. We haven’t been able to find proof that he was involved in the thefts of the other products but that’s only because we haven’t had time.”

  Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, his eyes bold and clear on mine. “So you think Greg Stillman is our traitor?”

  “No, sir.” A ripple of tension went through Victoria, then relaxed. It had to be done, and this was the moment. She knew that. So did I. “Stillman hasn’t the brains or the guts. He’s only an operative. He’s receiving his orders from Castle St. Clare.”

  “I see.” Sebastian sipped his tea, never taking his eyes from me. “Do you have any thoughts on the identity of this traitor within the heart of Castle St. Clare?”

  Our hearts were loud, Victoria’s and mine. But they beat together, in that perfect, synchronous rhythm I had noticed in Michael and his wife, in Sebastian and Clarice when I listened for it, in others who were mated as we were. The sound was calming to me, empowering. And I thought, It’s worth it all, then, for this. I lived to hear our hearts beating as one, and I have lived long enough.

  The brief, sweet tightening of Victoria’s fingers on mine was as sure as an embrace, reflecting my thoughts back to me. I said, looking him straight in the eye, “Yes, I know who the traitor is. It’s you, isn’t it, Grand-père?”

  His gaze was long and hard and unflinching. It hurt, like arrows in my temples, to hold it. But I did.

  He said, “I should kill you for that.”

  And I said, “No. You won’t. And I won’t kill you, either, not in battle. No one who’s done what you have done deserves such an honorable death.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So. You have solved the puzzle. You’re as clever as I credited you, you and your female. But to come here and accuse me, on penalty of treason, of crimes against our people that are punishable by death—this I did not expect from you, Noel. This is a very, very foolish thing to do.”

  “You have betrayed the pack,” Victoria said clearly. “Did you expect us to ignore that?”

  “You might have lived longer if you had.”

  She answered simply, “But not better.”

  She was a queen for all time.

  Sebastian smiled faintly as he looked at me. “So you think it’s worth dying for, this pack that was thrust upon you? Half of them don’t even like you, you know. They wouldn’t give their lives for you.”

  “They,” I replied, “are not required to.”

  He looked at me for a long and solemn moment. Then he merely nodded thoughtfully, and turned away, sipping his tea.

  “Well, now,” Grand-mère said pleasantly. “Now that that’s settled, come sit down. We have plans to make. How do you take your tea, child? Noel, I have cinnamon bread for you.”

  I stared at her, experiencing a quick shaft of alarm that she had lost her mind. The stress had been too much, the certainty of her own fate and her husband’s betrayal had snapped her psyche.

  Then Victoria said softly, “Wait.”

  I didn’t understand. Most of the time my mind is perfectly in sync with Victoria’s, one of us can speak the other’s thoughts before they are even formed. But that was my first experience with the indisputable fact that females are—for some reason I still cannot satisfactorily explain—more perceptive about certain matters than males. It seems to have something to do with subtle undercurrents of behavior that men are simply unable to read. She was reading those undercurrents now and coming to conclusions that I had not yet begun to perceive.

  She left my side unexpectedly, before I could stop her, and opened the door to the corridor. Sebastian didn’t try to prevent her. She looked right and left, then closed the door and turned back to me. “No guards,” she said.

  I could smell her excitement, hear her quickened breathing, and I began to understand—slowly, uncertainly. We should never have been left alone with them. For the threat we represented, we should be dead by now, or at least under guard. What was going on? What was he plotting?

  Grand-mère brought Victoria a cup of tea. “It’s mostly cream and sugar,” she told her, “but you need the energy—and the calcium.”

  Victoria reached for the cup but I held out a staying hand. Grand-mère looked at me impatiently, and then at her husband. “For heaven’s sake, tell them. This is growing tiresome, and we have matters of real consequence to deal with now.”

  Victoria said, looking straight at Sebastian St. Clare, “It’s not you, is it?”

  “No,” answered our venerated ruler mildly. “But you did well to get this far. I am impressed…and pleased, I must say.”

  Sebastian St. Clare had said he was pleased…and he’d looked at me when he’d said it.

  And finally I understood. “It’s no one at all. It was a setup.”

  Should I have been infuriated? Outraged, insulted, indignant at having been so ruthlessly manipulated, so shamelessly used? You know nothing about werewolves. I admired the master at work. I was clever, I knew that. Damn clever. But he had outsmarted me. How could I despise him for that?

  Still, I wished I knew why.

  “There was a thief,” Sebastian went on, going to the tea table to refresh his cup, “but he was dealt with long before you became involved.”

  Victoria questioned carefully, “Dealt with?”

  “A human,” replied Sebastian dismissively. “He was fired.”

  Victoria and I exchanged a relieved look.

  “You have the makings of a strong leader, Noel,” Sebastian said, squeezing lemon into his tea. “But you needed a chance to prove it, to yourself, and to me. As far as I’m concerned, you passed every test.” And he looked at me. “What do you think?”

  Again I looked at Victoria. I said, “Someday, sir, I hope to lead the pack as masterfully as you have done. For now…” She smiled at me and I was strong. I met Sebastian’s eyes. “Yes. I think I’m well on my way.”

  “Good,” pronounced Grand-mère, beaming at me. She squeezed her husband’s arm affectionately. “Now we can take that tour of the Outback we’ve promised ourselves for so many years, and after that, the Orient. You know how I love Japan, and I never get to spend enough time there.” She looked at Grand-père with sudden alertness. “Perhaps we’ll retire there, do you think? Should we make inquiries?”

  Once again I felt reality spinning sideways out of control; I had to anchor myself by reaching for Victoria’s hand. How good it was to have someone to reach for. How inexpressibly wonderful to know that she would always be there when I reached.

  “What about Stillman?” I asked.

  Sebastian glanced at me. “I would keep an eye on him, if I were you. His loyalties were far too easy to purchase, his moral code a little too convenient for my taste. I was thinking he might best serve the common good in another capacity.”

  “Botanicals,” I murmured. “East Africa.”

  Sebastian lifted an approving eyebrow.

  “However,” I added, “I’ve been thinking of making some changes in the way we handle the re
assignment of executives. I’d like to discuss my ideas with you.”

  Sebastian said, “I will be happy to listen, of course. But you don’t need my approval. The pack is yours now, to govern as you see fit.”

  The notion was a little overwhelming. It would take some time to adjust.

  I said, because I had to know, “What about Victoria? Was she part of your scheme, too?”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t expect this!” With a blustering motion, he indicated the two of us in our all-too-obvious newly mated state. “But I was interested to know whether you had the perception—the character, if you will—to see past her physical handicap to the sharp mind beneath, and the courage to exploit that potential to the good of the pack. Obviously…” And he cleared his throat a little. “It worked no hardship on either of you.”

  I grinned at my mate, my beautiful, brilliant love. I couldn’t help it. And she grinned back. We said in unison, “Obviously.”

  My grand-mère drew us both to the table, forcing tea on us, insisting that Victoria drink every drop of her creamy sweet concoction. “I must confess I’m disappointed in you, Noel,” she reprimanded me sternly, and much to my surprise. “Victoria should never have been allowed to experience First Change without other females attendant, and at her age, medics. It could have been dangerous, you know. And then to mate the first time—you were raised to be more responsible. Have you no consideration for the tenderness of her condition? No self-restraint or thought of the consequences? She is but a child in these matters, but I expected better of you.”

  I said, because it was the only defense I could think of, “It wasn’t planned.”

  She looked at me severely for a moment, until I dropped my eyes. Before one’s grand-mère, even the strongest of werewolves must eventually bow.

  Then she smiled, forgiving me, and reached out to pat my knee. “Well, it all ended well, at any rate.”

  And she looked at Victoria with a shrewd perceptive eye. “I anticipate an autumn whelping. You’ll have your lying-in here, of course, and begin in August I think. We must take no chances with the firstborn. But first we must have the mating ceremony…” And she cast a dry look at me. “A bit redundant, in fact, but necessary in principle. We must of course introduce your new bride to the pack. And then, I think, a separate coronation ceremony—perhaps in midsummer. You won’t be too far along to appear by then, and it will take at least that much time to make the arrangements…”

  With every word Grand-mère spoke, Victoria’s eyes grew wider, her anxiety higher. Finally, I took pity on her and intervened. “Grand-mère,” I said, “this is all very new to Victoria, and we’re both tired. Perhaps another time would be better?”

  But Victoria, barely glancing at me, said to Grand-mère and Grand-père, “You don’t mind? That Noel and I…? That he chose me? That I will mother his children and—and rule beside him? You don’t mind?”

  The two elders looked at each other in puzzlement and surprise. Then Sebastian said, “I think it was a fine choice, myself. Brilliant.” And he cast one of those sly, males-only glances at me and added, “Considering the circumstances you started with, damn courageous. The stuff of legends.”

  Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I felt ten feet tall.

  Then Grand-mère added, in all innocence, “Why should we object, my dear? You are, after all, a St. Clare.”

  Once again Victoria and I shared a grin. My heart was so filled with her, so complete with her happiness, that I could have taken flight.

  I said, pushing the advantage, “Grand-mère, Grand-père…I was wondering if, before you go to Japan, you might consider staying on for a month or two. We haven’t had a honeymoon.”

  “Oh,” replied my grand-mère, as though it had just occurred to her. “Of course you haven’t. Certainly something that mustn’t be overlooked or postponed. Come, my dear. We have work to do.”

  To my astonishment, she took Victoria’s hands and lifted her to her feet. “You need the advice and instruction of other females of your kind to ease the transition through this difficult time. No doubt it all seems very strange and overwhelming now, but—”

  Victoria looked back at me in helplessness and confusion as Grand-mère started to lead her from the room, and I got to my feet. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “Noel,” instructed Grand-mère with an imperious wave of her hand, “go amuse yourself elsewhere. Leave your bride in the hands of women now, where she belongs.”

  “No,” I heard myself saying. I closed the distance between us and gently pulled Victoria from her grip. I couldn’t believe I was defying the most powerful female werewolf of our pack, but for Victoria’s sake—for another moment in her presence—I did it without thinking. “She belongs in my hands now.”

  When I saw the gratitude in my beloved’s eyes, I knew I had done the right thing.

  “Don’t be a foolish boy,” said Grand-mère. “She is an infant, an innocent in the ways of werewolves, a stranger to her own nature. For her safety and good health, she needs instruction, guidance, protection. You must surrender her to us now. That’s the way it is done.”

  I said, looking into the eyes I would love for the rest of my life, “I will be her teacher. I’ll protect her.”

  I felt my grand-mère’s shock and disapproval, but it was a distant thing. I put my arm around Victoria’s waist and she leaned into me, softness and contentment, wonder and anticipation.

  As we left the room, I heard Grand-mère say, “Such impetuosity. Such passion. It can’t be good. This isn’t the way it’s done.”

  And then Sebastian’s voice, mild and amused, “Apparently it is now.” Then, more gently, “It’s their turn now, Clarice. Let them have it.”

  Outside the room, alone and dazed, we walked down the empty corridor. Victoria released a long breath. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said.

  “I thought we both could use the air.”

  We stopped then and looked at each other, wonder and disbelief holding us in its grip. We were awakening from a dream we weren’t sure was a dream. We had escaped with our lives when we had been prepared to sacrifice everything. None of it had been real. None of it.

  None of it except the woman who walked beside me, the love we had found.

  She said, “Noel…”

  And I said, “I know. It will be a while before I can even put it into words.”

  Her voice, dazed and soft, reflected my own cautious amazement. “Yes.”

  Looping our arms together, we started walking again. “I never thought it was him,” she said musingly after a moment. “Intellectually, I knew the evidence was there, but I never believed it in my heart.”

  “I must learn to listen to your heart,” I said.

  She pressed her cheek to my shoulder in a brief embrace then tilted her head to me, smiling. “And I’ll learn to listen to yours. Between us, then, we’ll always know the right thing to do.”

  What a beautiful promise. And all the more so because it was true.

  I said, kissing her tenderly, “I know now why no one has ever ruled alone.”

  I walked with the woman I love through the corridors of my home, the great rooms and long halls, grand staircases and deep balconies. I felt her awe, I saw her wonder. And then, as we came at last to the ground floor and the wide glass doors that opened onto the snow-covered park, she stopped and looked back, and said with only a little concern, “Will we live here now?”

  I hesitated. “I’m afraid we must, most of the time. There are other houses, of course, that we can visit. You can keep your apartment.” I smiled. “Maybe we’ll buy the whole building, and give it to your friend Phillipe to manage.”

  But her anxiety didn’t entirely dissipate. “What about Socrates?” she inquired.

  “The cat?”

  She nodded. “What will become of him? Where will he live?”

  I hesitated only a moment, then I sighed. “Here, I suppose. He’ll live here.”

  She laughed
and flung her arms around my neck, and how could I resist her pleasure, how could I remain invulnerable to her charm? I swept her off her feet and into my arms and carried her, my queen and my love, into the bright light of day.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6417-8

  WOLF IN WAITING

  Copyright © 1995 by Donna Ball.

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