The Wolf's Call (Two-Natured London)

by Susanna Shore

  “So tell me, do people call you Charlotte or do you have a nice nickname?”

  She turned to smile at him, a bit shyly, and his heart lost its rhythm. Since when had his ticker taken interest in this affair?

  “My family calls me Charlotte and my friends call me Lottie, of all things. But I’ve always wanted to be called Charly, ever since I read a book as a child where the heroine was called that. I’ve just never managed to make it catch.”

  So it would be unique for the two of them. “Charly. I like it. It’s much stronger than Lottie and it definitely suits you better.” And he liked how she had admitted such a personal wish.

  Her smile turned to a semi-serious frown. “I thought we agreed you would call me Miss Thornton.”

  Rafe snorted. After the way they had been all over each other? Not bloody likely. Besides, she was much too passionate for such a stuffy name. “I will call you Charly,” he said, and she didn’t object again. Perhaps he could even make her call him Rafe.

  In the park, Bob trotted on happily. Rafe held its leash, leaving his wolf to keep an eye on it, his full attention on the gorgeous woman by his side. Since it felt right and natural, and because he was too weak to resist the temptation, he wrapped his free arm around Charly’s waist, drawing her closer.

  Charly tensed for a heartbeat, but he waited patiently and was rewarded when she relaxed and leaned against him, and he adjusted his hold. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, making it hard for him to talk, so he didn’t; the silence was companionable.

  It was wonderful to have a tall woman by his side that he could hold with such ease. Not that he remembered taking girls on walks in parks before, moonlit or otherwise. His wolf hadn’t seen the point in such activity until now.

  “The moon is almost full tonight,” Charly noted after a while, but it wasn’t an opening to anything romantic, to his disappointment. “Do you think there will be shifters here?”

  Rafe made a quick study of their surroundings; the park seemed quiet. “I’m more worried about the demonstrators again. They’ve been emboldened by their success yesterday and may attempt another march today.”

  “Well, since the shifters hid themselves yesterday, they might do so tonight too,” she suggested, but he had to shake his head, his worry rising. He shouldn’t have brought her here.

  “This close to the full moon, not all shifters are able to control themselves as well as they should.” There were stories in shifter history of carnage that had followed when humans had turned against local shifter clans at the wrong time of the month. It had been prudent for the clans to isolate themselves, but modern times had made that very difficult.

  His words caught her interest and he was fairly sure she would ask again if he was a shifter himself. He still didn’t know what to tell her. But she only looked curious. “Why does the moon affect them so?”

  Rafe sighed soundlessly. Surely onesies were taught something about shifters? “Shifters, like all two-natureds, are creatures of Might, the energy surrounding all living things. Might is what gives them their second nature. Sentients’ consciences are pure Might, vampires use Might for magic, and a shifters’ transformation is powered by Might.” He paused to see if she knew this and since she looked interested, he continued. “During the full moon, Might flows with greater force, because the sun’s disruptive effect on it is at its weakest, and the extra energy makes all two-natureds act a bit strange. Shifters with smaller tolerance to Might simply have to change shape to release that surplus energy.”

  He turned to look at her again, feeling that he was wasting a perfect night in lecturing, but she looked captivated. “So a strong shifter doesn’t have to shift even on a full moon?”

  He smiled, pleased that she had listened. “That’s right. They can shift whenever they wish and regulate their reservoirs of Might that way. But most shifter clans gather to shift together on full moons. Afterwards, there’s a feast.” He looked forward to it every month, no matter how many moons he had behind him.

  She frowned, and he could anticipate her next question. She wanted to know how he knew all this if he wasn’t a shifter. But she didn’t get a chance to ask it, because suddenly his wolf tensed, claiming his attention. It had detected something he had been too distracted to notice.

  His instincts took over and he had pulled Charly behind him even before he had assessed the danger. Ten or so yards in front of them, three men were standing side by side, blocking their path. Or, to be more precise, three wolves were standing there, their auras in the open, looking aggressive and ready to shift.

  Fucking great. Three against one wasn’t exactly even odds, even if he was one of the strongest shifters in the greater London area. And he had a human woman to protect.

  He didn’t waste time wondering why they were acting hostile, even though he had permission from all the clans using the park to be here. He simply handed Bob’s leash to Charly. “Run to safety,” he commanded in a low voice. “I’ll hold them until you can get the building’s security here.” He didn’t turn to see if she did as she was told. His orders were obeyed as a rule.

  The wind changed and he got a good scent of his opponents. They weren’t local wolves after all, but strangers. That was odd. He was beginning to worry. “What do you want?”

  He used his best alpha voice and saw to his satisfaction the thugs flinch and avert their gazes. The man standing in the middle was more brazen though – or more stupid – than his companions. He lifted his face immediately, even though he couldn’t quite meet Rafe’s eyes. His wolf was smarter and it assumed a submissive pose on his chest.

  Rafe’s wolf approved. It was reaching out of his chest, eager to be free. Not now, Rafe commanded it mentally, and it ceased from trying to force a shift on him.

  “You’ve been poking your muzzle in where it doesn’t belong, Green,” the leader snarled.

  So this was personal. “Have I now?” he drawled, his voice gravelly because his wolf was so close to shifting.

  The leader stood his ground, possibly deciding that three against one was good odds from their point of view. “Yeah. In Betchworth. And we’re here to make you regret it.”

  Rafe tensed. There weren’t shifter clans anywhere near the small village where they had been buying land. So if these guys were hired thugs, who had hired them? And why were they acting now? Had Charly already found something that hit a nerve with someone? His stomach fell in dread for her, but he didn’t turn to look if she had fled to safety, opting to keep his eyes on the assailants. “And who would we be?”

  It wouldn’t be that easy. “Never you mind that,” the leader smirked. And then he attacked.

  Rafe anticipated the move and stepped aside and attacked the bloke on the left who hadn’t been as swift to charge as the leader. He shifted his left hand into a huge paw with extending claws unlike any natural wolf, and sank them into his opponent’s stomach. With his other arm he blocked the leader’s punch to his face.

  There was no time to pause. He pulled his claws out of the soft flesh of his opponent and the bloke fell on his knees and folded over in pain. Rafe hit him swiftly on the back of his head, dropping him like a stone. The leader kept on punching him, forcing him to defend himself with his free hand. Rafe was good, but not that good, and an occasional punch got through. By now, the third guy had got his fight-face on too.

  As Rafe sidestepped to parry another punch, he got too close to the last guy; before he could retreat, sharp claws punctured his side through the leather jacket. He grunted as the claws sank deep, but he didn’t let the pain slow him down. He just slashed the bastard across the face with his own claws, causing the bloke to step back just enough for him to get a good kick to his opponent’s stomach. The guy flew backwards far enough for Rafe to have a few seconds to deal with the leader, who was still trying to drop him with his fists.

  Rafe attacked, distracting the leader who had gotten used to his defensive moves. A swift right hook took care of him, just
in time for Rafe to face the last guy who was approaching again with a wolf’s snarl on his face.

  But before Rafe had a chance to do anything, Charly sped past him, a spray can in her hand, and she emptied a full can of pepper spray into the bloke’s face. The bastard covered his face with his hands, howling in pain, making it no challenge at all for Rafe to punch him unconscious too.

  This done, he turned to Charly who was panting heavily as adrenaline pumped through her veins. But she didn’t look frightened. She looked fierce and triumphant.

  His blood already heated by the fight, he reacted instantly. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the fire surging through his veins. She answered with passion, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to better reach him, deepening the kiss. She pressed against him and the feel of her lush breasts against his chest drove all sensible thoughts from his mind.

  He could have kissed her forever, but a nudge from his wolf reminded him that he hadn’t gotten his woman to safety yet. He ended the kiss instantly and looked her sternly in the eyes. “Woman, when I tell you to run to safety, you bloody well run to safety.”

  Chapter Eleven

  This was not how Charly had imagined her daring rescue would end, being marched through a dark park like a naughty little girl, Rafe’s hand gripping her upper arm like a vice. “Let go of me, you brute. This is undignified.” But Rafe only paused long enough to detach Bob from the low railing she had tied it to, putting distance between them and the assailants they had left behind.

  She tried to reason with him. “Shouldn’t we at least do something about the men?” His face set in grim lines, he didn’t answer. She had often wanted to find a man who would match her in willpower, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure she appreciated him. “We can’t just leave them there. What if they attack someone else?”

  He turned to give her a stern look. “If you’d gone to fetch the security like I told you to do, they would be dealing with those men right now.”

  Well, that stung. “I told you I don’t take orders well.”

  “And that is why you now have to face whatever those men get into their heads to do when they wake up.”

  Charly’s stomach fell when the uncomfortable truth sank in. She should at least have called security, even if she hadn’t run to safety. But it wasn’t too late for that now. She fished her mobile phone out of her pocket with her free hand and pushed the speed dial for the security desk.

  “You’re not calling the police, are you?” Rafe asked.

  The question startled her. She, a lawyer, hadn’t even considered it. She shook her head. “The building security.”

  “Good.” Before she realised what he was about, he had taken the phone from her.

  “Rafe here. Send a couple of trackers to the Hyde Park, northern shore of the Serpentine, near where the Ring meets the Serpentine road. Three outsiders.” He listened to the other end, grunting in response, before ending the call and handing the phone back to her.

  She had to admit that he had handled the call much more efficiently than she would have, but she still felt miffed that he had just taken over. At least he let go of her arm and allowed her to walk on her own, but he kept taking long, powerful strides, forcing her almost to run to keep up.

  Charly couldn’t understand why Rafe was so angry with her for not following his orders. Surely he had got her measure better than that by now. He had been so wonderful before the attack, wrapping his arm companionably around her waist, making her think that he might be after more than just sex. Being treated like a witless female after she had begun to warm up to his other qualities seemed almost cruel.

  Her bad mood lasted until they were back in Jack’s flat, where Rafe peeled off his leather jacket, revealing a large dark stain on the side of the long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing underneath. Her heart skipped a beat in worry, her anger forgotten. “Oh, my God! You’re hurt.” The wound looked bad.

  Rafe glanced down, as if only now noticing it. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. It’s just a scratch.”

  “A scratch? A scratch doesn’t bleed that much.” Her voice sounded shrill, but she couldn’t help it. The fight had been brutal, but until now she hadn’t thought it could have been fatal.

  The realisation that Rafe could actually have died put the fight into a different light. A brawl wasn’t something that normally impressed her, but he had been amazing. The three guys hadn’t hesitated playing the odds, attacking all at the same time, but Rafe had dealt with them with ruthless skill. Nonetheless, she had been really frightened for him and so, instead of fleeing, she had stayed to see that he came to no harm. When she had noticed the last man lunge at Rafe, she hadn’t thought about her own safety but had just run in and doused the bastard with pepper spray.

  Her legs began to shake when it dawned on her that she might have been hurt too, but she gritted her teeth and forced her body to quiet. It was no use expecting sympathy from him. He had kissed her senseless and had then treated her like an idiot female again, ordering her about. Well, two could play that game. “Take off your shirt.”

  A slow smile spread on his face that made her insides melt with the promise it held, but she hardened herself. “Gladly,” he drawled. He grabbed the tail of his grey shirt with both hands and pulled it over his head, revealing a tight abdomen and muscled chest dusted with light hair, just like she had hoped. Distracted by the sight, it took her a moment to check his wounds.

  She blinked in surprise. He was right. There wasn’t a gaping hole in his side from which he would have been bleeding to death. Come to think of it, there weren’t any signs of the other hits she had seen him take either – no black eye or a split lip in sight. Even though it was evident that he had bled profusely at some point, his side displayed only four red puncture marks that had already closed.

  As she stared at the wounds that on anyone else would have needed emergency surgery, one thing became clear. “So you are a wolf-shifter.” He could have been any shifter, really, with such rapid healing, but she knew he was the wolf she had seen.

  He didn’t deny it this time. “Yeah. Does it bother you?” he asked gruffly.

  She lifted her gaze from the wounds to his face. There was an oddly vulnerable look in his eyes and her heart reached out to him. She wanted to assure him that she still liked him, although until now she hadn’t even realised she actually did. That she wanted him was self-evident, but it was surprising to discover that there was more to her feelings than lust.

  Since her answer clearly mattered to him, she gave it the thought it deserved. “No, not really,” she said truthfully after a while. His muscles relaxed visibly. “But I haven’t faced your shifter side yet.” That might change everything. “I’m more upset because you lied to me.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I’m never shy about the truth.”

  Since she had already put some thought into that, she just nodded. “Feelings have been running a bit high lately. You couldn’t know that I’m not a bigot.” She hadn’t known it herself.

  That made him smile. “I’m fairly sure you’re not,” he said, but she had to shake her head.

  “I was raised by humans-only parents. My father is especially strict about it. This is the first time I’m dealing with someone that I know is a two-natured.” Then, because she really wanted to know, she turned the tables. “Do you deal with humans a lot? Date them?”

  She tried to keep the tone light, as if she wasn’t suggesting anything, but to her surprise his face turned serious. “I actually try to avoid dating humans.”

  It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for and her heart sank. “Why?”

  He raked his hair, aggravated, causing it to stand on its end, searching for an answer. “Humans don’t make good partners for shifters,” he settled with, but she got a notion it wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Who said anything about becoming partners?” she said, but the upset his words caused seemed to i
ndicate that she was actually willing for something more. She looked at him from under her lashes to gauge his reaction, but she only met his unyielding stare. Apparently she wasn’t the only prejudiced here.

  Searching for a way out of the embarrassing situation, she turned her attention back to his wounds. “Come, let’s wash this blood off.” She led him to Jack’s bathroom where the first-aid kit was, not that he needed its contents anymore. She wetted a facecloth, and even though he could have done the cleaning up himself, she did it for him. She wiped his side carefully with the cloth until the blood came off and all that was left were the remains of the puncture marks, already lightening.

  Fascinated by his rapid healing, she ran her fingers over the marks. He inhaled sharply, causing the defined muscles in his abdomen to stand out, and she snatched her hand away. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not there, baby.” His voice was deep and gravelly again. She glanced down and saw his erection straining the front of his jeans, and a warm blush spread all over her body. Frightened by how easily he could get her going, she fought the arousal, still hurt that he didn’t consider her worth more than a lay. A slow smile spread on his face as he watched her struggle. “Scared?”

  The challenge made her competitive nature come to her aid. “I’m not scared of anything.” An obvious lie, because she was terrified. She couldn’t afford to lose her self-control, but he put a constant strain on her willpower like nothing had before.

  He had been leaning against the counter around the sink while she cleaned his wounds, but now he straightened up. His bare chest was only inches from her face and his wonderful scent invaded all of her, further weakening her resolve. He flashed a grin that was definitely wolfish, but also very appreciative. “No, you’re not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have attacked an aggressive male wolf-shifter armed with only pepper spray.”

  Charly’s knees gave in under her and she had to take a hold of the counter to keep from falling, but he was already there. He pulled her against his chest, steadying her with his strong arms. “I didn’t know they weren’t human,” she said in a small voice that didn’t sound like her. She had thought they were demonstrators attacking anyone who didn’t immediately side with them.