Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf HunterPossessed by a Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Despite the strange circumstances, something about the way he said it amused her. “That’s very kind.”

  He gave a slight, almost sarcastic, bow. “But, all things considered, you don’t look like you need help.”

  “It’s been touch and go, but thanks. It’s good to know I have a man inside,” she looked around. “Inside the walls, anyway.”

  He chuckled. “Now I need to get this fool to his father.” Leo made a frantic noise—he clearly didn’t want to see King Targon—but the masked man grabbed him by the collar and heaved him upright.

  “Just one question,” Lexie said.

  The man paused. “Yes?”

  “Do you know what happened to my father?”

  The figure froze, as if he’d been caught in some illicit act. This man knew something about her father.

  Then he gave a careless shrug. “Someday we’ll talk about that, Little Red, but right now there are secrets to keep. I hope you can respect that. I hope you can keep mine.”

  Lexie’s heart leaped in her throat. She fell back a step. “I can. I will.”

  And, in that moment, he’d let her know who he was. Impossible. But it was. All the small gestures, the tone of his voice, the set of his head suddenly clicked into the familiar place in her memory, and it explained so much. Her stranger definitely was a Company man, through and through.

  And yet she couldn’t let on what she’d just figured out. Not in front of the prince, who was watching them with voracious interest. He hadn’t missed her moment of surprise.

  Lexie cleared her throat. Ten thousand questions crashed into her mind, but she went for the obvious. “By the way, how do I get out of here?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Do you want the easy way or the smart way?”

  The easy way was going with him, which he freely admitted might end in a confrontation with other members of the Five. They’d be looking for their missing prince. Lexie picked the smart way—a bit of a tour through the tunnels to emerge in the palace kitchens. How hard could that be?

  Really hard, it turned out. It was a confusing, filthy warren. Lexie crawled through the tunnels for at least another half hour. By the time she reached what she thought was her destination, she almost yearned for the easy way, gunfire, black magic and all. But there was the secret panel to freedom, low in the wall just like the directions said.

  But the moment she opened the secret panel, she knew she’d taken the wrong route. A wash of conversation swirled around her, along with the scent of hors d’oeuvres and expensive perfume. This wasn’t the kitchens—she was back in the freshly repaired reception room where the ring had first been stolen and where Faran had leaped back into her life, hunting hounds on his tail.

  And it was no quieter than it had been that first night. Outside the huge glass windows, fireworks fountained into the sky, snapping and cracking like gunfire. The room was packed with elegantly garbed men and women sipping champagne and watching the show. Lexie’s only comfort was that the secret panel was behind the grand piano, which sat idle. She was able to close the passage behind her and find her feet before someone noticed she’d popped out of the wall.

  She began to inch toward the door when she saw Chloe in a backless white dress fastened at the neck with a rhinestone collar. Lexie inched closer. “Pst! Chloe!”

  Chloe turned, her eyes going wide at Lexie’s appearance. She marched over, putting herself between the crowd and Lexie to shield her from curious stares. “What are you doing? You look like a chimney sweep! And what’s that all over your hands?”

  Lexie looked down. Her hands were gloved in filth-coated marmalade and blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought an inappropriate urge to giggle. “It’s a long story. I need to find Faran and clean up.”

  “I’ll get you to your room.”

  Chloe was using a gentle voice that said Lexie appeared to be having a breakdown—which sounded like a fine idea. Lexie grabbed Chloe’s champagne glass and drained it in two swallows.

  “Yeah, no,” Lexie replied. “My room is a terrible idea because they know how to get in.”

  “They?” Chloe asked, her voice going hard. “You’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you? Never mind. Whatever. Come with me.”

  Lexie didn’t argue. She was too tired to launch into an explanation of strange men in the walls, not to mention blood rituals in the maze. She passed the glass to a slack-jawed waiter and obediently trailed after her friend, careful not to touch anything.

  They’d nearly made it out when she saw a wolf run past the window. “Faran!”

  Chloe had seen it, too. And then she saw Sam sprinting after, Maurice at his side. Chloe ran to one of the side doors and opened it. “Sam!”

  “Let me past,” Lexie demanded, and Chloe obliged. “Faran!”

  Lexie stepped into the garden. Her shadow, backlit by the lights of the reception room, stretched like a giant across the lawn until another Roman candle exploded in the sky, washing everything away in lurid brightness. She looked around for a wolf, but there were none in sight.

  Lexie wandered a little farther, grateful to the darkness that hid her filthy state. She was tired and dirty and bruised, but she was winning. She’d made it out of Ambrose’s clutches, shed her chains and escaped to safety through secret passages. Not bad for a night’s work.

  Now all she could think of was telling Faran that he’d been tricked, that she was here and waiting for him and wanting him by her side. Then everything would be perfect.

  Another barrage of fireworks went off in the sky, making a bouquet of chrysanthemums. In the flare of light she saw Ambrose leaning against the wall, breathing hard. He saw her and his lips peeled back in a grimace. “You have more lives than a cat, Alexis.”

  “So it was you my friends were chasing,” she guessed.

  “They caught my servant as he came to look for me, but that is all. The truly important among us escaped, and we’ll have our revenge on that turncoat musician. No one crosses the fey and lives long to brag of it.”

  Lexie had no idea what he was talking about, but she was really tired of this guy. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Hey, Faran, Sam, over here!”

  Ambrose hissed, a noise that no one with a human face should ever make. And as he did, he raised his hand and clutched it tight, making a fist so tight it shook with the strain of his muscles.

  Lexie stopped breathing. Her hands flew to her throat, but there was nothing to grab and pull loose. She clawed at the invisible bonds that strangled her, but the world got darker. She was aware of Chloe running across the lawn in her bare feet, white dress billowing like an angel’s robes. Lexie dropped to her knees, losing strength. She’d wanted to talk to Faran, but the reason for it was getting blurry. Everything was spinning now, her heart thudding in her ears, her lungs aching and burning like nothing she’d ever felt before. A stray thought flitted past, wondering if this was what drowning was like.

  She was dying. She’d had close calls, but nothing like this. She’d wanted to disappear when Ambrose was chasing her, and it had happened. And now she desperately yearned to fight back.

  Lexie’s power went to the one source she knew well—the maze. She couldn’t say how she called to it, but she did and it answered. The tingling, sparkling power surged under the earth to where she knelt and boiled up inside her. Ambrose’s spell fell away and she gasped in air, sucking sweet relief into her tortured lungs. And then she thrust out a hand, releasing a blast of magic that slammed him into the stone wall of the palace with enough force that she heard bones crack.

  The next instant, a bullet of gray fur flashed past her, so close she felt the rush of wind. There was a snarl that was half a human scream, and the sound of wet and tearing flesh. Lexie collapsed, another glorious breath whooping in, and then another. The borr
owed magic drained out of her in a rush, leaving her giddy. She scrunched her eyes closed as another barrage of fireworks flashed across the sky.

  Gradually the world stopped spinning enough for her to roll to her knees, though her head still pounded like the fireworks had moved inside her skull. Slowly, Lexie rose up, pushing her hair out of her face, and looked around.

  Faran, still in wolf form, crouched over Ambrose. The fey was clearly dead, throat bloody, arms splayed as he fell. Lexie’s stomach dropped and she looked away, glad she hadn’t eaten for hours. She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, swallowing down her queasiness. After another breath, she managed to look back at the scene.

  The wolf’s yellow eyes were fixed on her, watching her every move. Lexie remained very still, not sure what to do. Suddenly, she was back in Paris, in the alley, watching a wolf stand over the body of a man. They’d come full circle.

  Faran stood, head and tail low. She took a breath, wanting to say the right thing, not finding the words because no matter how much she logically grasped, it didn’t stop the horror in front of her. He’d done what he could to protect her, but that meant claws and teeth. He was a wolf. Despite Faran’s kindness and humor and the incredible sex, it was like loving lightning—a terrible force of nature.

  But now, Lexie finally got it. She’d felt that protective rage when she’d been in chains and Ambrose had threatened Faran. And she’d just called her newborn power to slam the fey into the wall. The battle of light and dark wasn’t pretty, but there were times when pretty wasn’t on the menu.

  Faran turned, taking a last look at Ambrose, and began padding into the dark. The moment was running like water through Lexie’s fingers. I don’t need pretty, or easy, or comfortable. I need Faran.

  “Wait!” she said. “Don’t go.”

  Faran’s ears swiveled forward as he swung his massive shaggy head around. The yellow eyes were guarded. Lexie’s mouth went dry. The moment he’d jumped through the window had felt just like this, balanced on a knife-edge where they would either connect or drift apart.

  But this time Lexie knew exactly what she wanted. “Get over here. Neither of us gets to walk away anymore. We’re stuck with each other.”

  With a huff, Faran trotted a few steps and then broke into a bouncing run. Lexie flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in the rough, wiry fur. The wagging tail thumped against her knee as the warm, solid bundle of wolf all but enveloped her. After so much darkness and fear that night, the unchecked joy of it was too much. Lexie started to cry. “Thank you, thank you, I love you.”

  And then suddenly she was holding a lot of hot, delicious naked man. “Whoa!”

  “I love you, Lexie,” he murmured in her ear. Her heart sang in that moment. There was nothing, nothing, she had wanted so much to hear.

  “Oh, please, Kenyon,” said Sam from where he stood beside Chloe a few yards away. The vampire held a hand up to his eyes. “Please put some clothes on.”

  Chapter 28

  Later, Lexie stood in the burning hot shower wondering if any part of her wasn’t bruised. It wasn’t just her body she was wondering about. The sound of Ambrose hitting the wall kept replaying in her mind, and every time she flinched. That sound, if nothing else, would keep her from ever abusing any magical skills she might develop. She’d done what she had to do, but there were real consequences and few easy answers. This wasn’t some cartoon with superheroes and capes.

  The rings of the shower curtain squeaked on the rod, and cold air wafted in. “Hey!” she protested.

  The rings squeaked again, shutting out the cold, and then Faran was behind her, wrapping one arm possessively around her middle. “What are you thinking about?”

  When she didn’t answer at once, he nibbled on her shoulder. She felt her mind spin away, but snagged it back for a single, final item. “One question and then we’ll close the subject of Ambrose for the night.”

  “What?” Faran asked softly.

  She swallowed around a lump. “Did I kill him?”

  “No.”

  That meant Faran had. “It was necessary,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  The hot water pounded on her as she turned around and rested her cheek on his chest. She had to take the sting out of the moment, and tried to think what one of the Company men would say. They relied a lot on dark humor, and now she knew why. “I hope he tasted better than he looked.”

  “Eh, not so much.”

  Faran tilted her chin up and kissed her on the mouth. That was fine with her, because that meant there was no more need for awkward words. There was just the two of them, their skin and heat and unspoken understanding.

  He broke the kiss and lifted her hands, cradling them gently. She’d scrubbed the filth off them and could see the damage from the cuffs now—savage scrapes where the skin had been sacrificed for freedom. He pressed his lips to them, at first reverently, but then nipping at her fingertips. The featherlight touches of teeth were weirdly erotic, as was the quick stroke of his tongue against the inside of her wrist. His lick was rough, not quite human, but it was arousing.

  Her free hand slid down the hard, wet curve of his chest, circling the flat bud of his nipple. Faran leaned into her touch, bracing one hand against the tiles on either side of her. She nibbled on his jaw, tugging his earlobe with her teeth. He groaned and with one hand hit the shower controls, turning off the water.

  The noise level dropped, leaving nothing but the bathroom fan and the dripping of water from their bodies. Faran slid his hands behind her, caressing the small of her back before he hoisted her upward as easily as if she was a doll. Lexie hooked her legs over his hips and hung on to his shoulders. The shower curtain slid away in a billow of steam. Faran stepped out of the shower, carrying Lexie with him.

  They’d gone to a hotel—a place with no bad memories. The bed was luxurious, piled high with down quilts and cool linens. Faran laid her down, heedless of their wet skin and the long tangle of her hair. The air was cold, puckering her nipples, but wherever Faran touched was warm. And he just kept kissing her, his lips and tongue moving over her skin as if he was drinking every trace of moisture the shower had left behind.

  And then he parted her knees at the edge of the bed, letting the cool air touch the inside of her thighs. Lexie felt wildly vulnerable, and wildly heated. His tongue, wet and rough, slid up the soft skin of her hip, traveling ever closer to where she wanted that touch. She shivered, ordering herself to keep her shoulders against the quilt. Sometimes a girl just had to surrender.

  She inhaled as he put his tongue to work on her sex, as if this was what her body had hungered for all her life. A flame sprang to life somewhere deep in her belly. Lexie made a noise, part trepidation and part delight. A slow conquest of wet, rough pleasure was taking place, every lick making her breasts heave with her helpless gasps. Faran took his time, savoring her, leaving nothing untouched. And when the nuzzling and licking left off, suction began. Lexie’s fingers dug into the covers, holding herself down, tearing with the urge to squirm.

  His blue eyes danced with mischief, and something darker, as her breathing began to lose control. He rose up over her, stroking his thumbs up her abdomen in a twin arc of pressure. She shuddered under his touch, moaning as his hot, wet mouth found her nipple. Sore and flushed and needy, the flash of sensation connected every body part in a twist of erotic pleasure.

  “Oh, God,” she cried.

  “Give it up,” he coaxed, moving to the other breast.

  And she did. Lexie arched beneath him, straining so hard she thought her spine would crack. But she was greedy, as if she had been starving and he’d just offered her one bite of a delectable meal. “More.”

  With a low chuckle, he seemed to spring, rather than climb onto the bed. Lexie nearly came again just at the look on his face. His eyes had gone golden, the wol
f fully present. He moved sinuously, body loose and coiled at once. Prowling. Lexie rose up on her elbows, still throbbing. The sight of him, the hard muscles sliding under his skin, did nothing to cool her desire. This time she was more than ready for his beast.

  He grasped her waist, pulling her to where he wanted her. He was fully aroused, long and hard and glistening with anticipation. A condom went on and then her legs were around his waist, and he was inside, stretching her until she thought he had filled her whole body. Already primed, it was all she could do to hold on.

  Faran wasn’t having any of that. In one long stroke, he had her, her body erupting around him. He knew her too well and knew just what angle to use. Her nails found his shoulders this time, doing to his flesh what she’d done to the bedclothes before. He made a noise of pain and triumph, but he wasn’t stopping there. His rhythm became faster and harder, winding the tension inside Lexie one more time. She writhed beneath him, her breathing now just a ragged gasp. It was like a wild ride, every swooping, dropping, flying moment of it different than the last. And he was sending her into space again, as hard and far as he could manage.

  The blazing heat between them finally hit nova. Every nerve in Lexie short-circuited at once. Faran snarled as he spilled into her and her body milked him, sealing them together in a long, sweet agony of pleasure.

  * * *

  Afterward, they lay curled together, bundled under the wealth of luxurious covers. Lexie was spooned against Faran, her fingers laced through his. She could feel him wake from a doze, a stirring and resettling she recognized from their time together in Paris.

  “So is the Company back on duty?” she asked softly.

  “Yup.”

  “And you’re staying here until after the wedding?”

  His arm tightened around her. “Mmm-hmm.”

  For a moment she thought he was sleep talking—making the sort of agreeable dialogue people do when they’re just trying to doze off again. She stopped speaking, figuring it would be better to let him rest.