by Terry Spear
Lelandi got up abruptly from the table. “There’s no need. You and the rest of the pack can go. I wouldn’t want to deprive them of their leader’s presence.”
Darien seized her wrist and made her sit back down. “They made their decision. Under the circumstances, it’s best for all concerned.”
Because Ritka was involved in Larissa‘s death.
“All right,” she said. “so tell me—when Ritka screamed for Trevor at the hospital, why didn’t he stop Joe?”
Jake and Tom concentrated on their lasagna while Darien placed his fork on his plate and leaned away from the table. “When Joe saw Trevor was guarding Ural, he knocked him out.”
“Really,” Lelandi said, rolling her eyes.
“He had a concussion, Lelandi. So yes, really.”
“And my brother and uncle conveniently got the better of him in the jail. Maybe Trevor needs a different job.”
“Uncle Sheridan counseled him.”
“Hmpf. He needs a heck of a lot more than counseling.”
“As to another matter,” Darien said, “we’ll have a Thanksgiving feast for the pack.”
She figured the feast was a tradition they’d always carried out like so many people did across the States until she saw the questioning glances on his brothers’ faces. “Why?” she asked, because Jake and Tom wouldn’t, and she figured something more had to be up.
“A feast to give thanks that I have a mate. Is that not reason enough?” Darien’s expression was lighthearted, but the façade didn’t hide the darkness brewing beneath the surface.
She offered a smile. “I’m sure everyone will enjoy a feast, no matter the reason. Free food puts everyone in good spirits.”
“Where did you want to have this feast?” Jake asked, his voice shadowed. “The civic auditorium? School gym? The tavern, perhaps?”
“Here.” Darien lifted his cup to his lips.
Lelandi suspected the worst. Darien knew who killed her sister, and he needed the majority of the pack together.
The feast was the battleground. Or at least the beginning. The battle would take place in the woods, secluded from town, perfect for a fight between wolves.
Her eyes filling with tears, she sat back in her chair. Ever since she’d learned her sister had died, she’d had this overwhelming ache to right the wrong, to avenge her sister’s death. And now Darien knew who it was? But he would have told her right away if he’d planned to. Which meant he was keeping it a secret. Anger and upset bottled up inside threatened to spill out. She fought the emotions, trying to maintain a cool, alpha stance. “Who is it?”
“He’ll reveal himself when the time comes.”
She ground her teeth, attempting to stay calm, but her blood was running hot.
Jake scraped his empty wineglass across the oak table.
“What, Jake? You know how much doing that annoys me.”
“Does he know you suspect him?”
“Who?” Lelandi asked in exasperation. She quickly brushed away insolent tears that dared streak down her cheeks. She was not a wilting damn flower.
Darien looked torn between comforting her and being the indomitable pack leader and setting up the rules. “I’m not sure, but I won’t openly speculate. Too much of that has been going on of late. Several pack members have unduly ostracized Trevor because many think he had a hand in Larissa’s death. At the feast, the murderer will reveal himself. That’s all I’ll say.”
“I’ll organize the men to cook the turkeys beforehand at the school,” Jake offered.
“Tom, I want you to get the word out to the pack about the feast.”
“Will do, Darien. I can coordinate the efforts of those making the vegetables.”
“Good.” Darien turned to Lelandi.
She couldn’t stand his seeing how teary-eyed she’d become. Looking down at the table, she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Lelandi,” he said softly, “maybe you, Carol, and Silva can make some more of those apple pies that everyone loved so much?”
Her heart aching to the core, she glowered at him. “You know who it is, don’t you?”
“Leave us,” he said to his brothers.
“We’ll make the arrangements at once,” Jake said.
Tom inclined his head slightly to Lelandi, then the two brothers hastened to leave the dining room.
Darien didn’t move from his chair, but just studied Lelandi.
Why did he have to keep her in the dark? Why?
He rose from his chair and walked around the table to join her, touching her cheek with his fingertips in a gentle caress. “If I tell you who I suspect and I’m wrong, you’ll harbor a mistrust of the individual. But more than that, I know how you are. You’ll confront him without regard to the danger you’d put yourself in. I won’t have it. In two day’s time, we’ll know once and for all.”
“Then you’ll fight him to the death.”
The phone rang and Tom hurried back into the room to get it. “Tom here.” The look of shock on Tom’s face made her suspect something awful must have happened. Jake poked his head in.
“Now what?” Lelandi asked.
Tom looked at Darien, waiting for him to allow him to speak in front of Lelandi.
He seemed indecisive about allowing it or keeping her further in the dark. Then he finally gave a slight nod, his gaze hard as he caught Lelandi’s eye.
“Angelina’s dead,” Tom said.
“How?” Darien asked.
Heart gave out.
“Natural causes or was she helped along?”
“Coroner won’t be able to tell us for a few days.”
Lelandi closed her eyes, not believing the killer could have struck again. She felt hands on her shoulders and looked up to see Darien rubbing them. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Did he kill her. Darien? Did he get to her, too?” She choked back a sob.
Darien shook his head and said to Tom, “I want the report soonest. Jake, I need you and Tom to talk to everyone. Find out who was serving on guard duty when she expired and who went in to see her.” He squeezed Lelandi’s shoulder. “You’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime and it’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.”
But she couldn’t brush her worry away, and when he led her upstairs, she felt drained, as if she wasn’t even there. Would the killer truly be revealed at the least? Or would he fly for her again before then?
Two days later, Lelandi read over the coroner’s report in Darien’s office while he watched her. Death due to asphyxiation. “Murdered,” Lelandi said under her breath, although she wasn’t surprised.
“Her room was at the back of the hospital. Someone had unlocked the window, an inside job. Anyone could have slipped in, murdered her, and left without anyone being aware.” Darien said,
“But it was a man who killed her, right?”
“Most likely, and she bit him.”
Lelandi glanced up from the report, “It doesn’t say that.”
“Doc Featherston told me. He found remnants of blood around her teeth, but the blood wasn’t hers. He didn’t want the word to get out.”
“Oh hell, Darien, by now the bite marks could have healed and disappeared.”
“Maybe not. Mandatory dress is short-sleeved shirts for the men for the feast today, Only my brothers, Doc Featherston, and the killer will know the real reason.”
“Couldn’t he do a DNA test on the blood?”
“Not enough for the test.”
“What if the murderer doesn’t show up today?”
“He will, and the game will be over.”
Later that afternoon, and with the tension running high, Darien welcomed Lelandi’s family in the sunroom while Lelandi baked pies with Carol and Silva in the kitchen. He gave Lelandi’s mother a hug, seeing the resemblance to Lelandi, the red hair, petite features, green eyes and riveting smile. He shook her father’s hand as he sat in his wheelchair, looking proud, but with a weariness lingering in his features.
His dark amber eyes assessed Darien with a wolf’s guardedness.
Lelandi was unaware Darien had invited her family so that he had a chance to meet them first, and welcome them like a pack leader would before he switched roles to greet them as family. Darien shook Leidolf’s hand next, then her Uncle Hrothgar’s, and Ural’s last.
“I’m sure you suspect the reason I’ve invited you here.” Darien said.
“To ask permission to have my daughter after the fact,” her father growled, banging his fist on the arm of his wheelchair. Lelandi’s mother rested her hand on his shoulder.
Although it had never been his intention to ask for Lelandi since he’d already mated with her, Darien bowed his head with respect.
“You have my permission.” her father said, his voice gruff, but admiration shown in his eyes.
Everyone else waited quietly for Darien’s next words, tension filling the room. “The killer will be exposed today, the fight will follow, and the celebration feast afterward.”
Her father inclined his head. “This is acceptable.”
“We’ve heard rumors Lelandi may be with triplets,” her mother said, her voice hopeful.
“Mrs. Wildhaven, it’s too early to tell.”
“Please, call me Eleanor.”
“Certainly. But I wish to discuss another matter. We’ve lost our doctor and Lelandi has her heart set on Doc Weber of your pack joining us. Would this be agreeable?”
Hrothgar cleared his throat. “I, of course, would prefer he stay at Wildhaven with my pack.”
“But,” Eleanor said, “having triplets can be difficult for even lupus garous. Because Lelandi has a fondness for Doc Weber and he has for her…” She spread her hands, palms up.
Darien waited for Hrothgar’s approval as Wildhaven’s newest pack leader. Hrothgar gave a stiff nod.
Turning to Leidolf, Darien said. “I know you want to avenge Larissa’s death. I ask that you allow me the honor since it is my pack, she was my mate—no matter how wrongly that came about—and the villain is one of my pack.”
“As much as I’d love to tear the bastard from limb to limb, I acquiesce. Should you not succeed, I won’t wait for either of your brothers to jump into the fray.”
“Agreed.” Darien looked at Jake and Tom, both who reluctantly nodded. “Settled then.” He motioned to Tom, who opened the door and Mrs. Hastings and several other ladies hurried in with apple cider, shrimp, and cheese dips with crackers. “I’ll tell Lelandi you’re here.”
He had every intention of delaying the inevitable, feeling an insatiable urge to prove to her that she wanted to remain with him and not return to her family no matter how much he told himself the notion was too ridiculous to consider.
Chapter 25
BUSINESS AS USUAL THAT’S THE WAY EVERYONE PLAYED their roles as Sam organized the drinks in the dining room, Tom coordinated the side dishes, Jake managed the deliveries of the turkeys, while Lelandi, Carol, and Silva finished baking the pies. The aroma of roasted turkey and gravy filled the air, making Lelandi’s stomach rumble, although she didn’t think she’d be able to eat, she was so uptight.
Carol peered out the kitchen window where the table sat in an alcove. “Snow’s still falling. This will be the best ski season Silver Town’s had in five years.”
Silva cast a questioning look in Lelandi’s direction, but though she caught it, she didn’t acknowledge her concern. Everyone was wearing polite smiles, the conversations centering around the weather, a hunt, some whispered speculation about Sam and Silva, but nothing about the reason for the feast. Lelandi was sure the conversations about that had already been held behind closed doors.
Darien walked into the kitchen, stretched his arms above his head, and smiled at Lelandi.
Silva stammered some excuse and hurried out of the kitchen. Carol took longer before it sank in that the alpha leader needed a moment alone with his mate. Her face suddenly flushed and she quickly made her excuses and hurried after Silva, shutting the door behind her.
“Why didn’t you say something to me?” she scolded outside the kitchen.
Darien rested his hands on Lelandi’s shoulders. “You smell of cinnamon, apples, and brown sugar. Good enough to eat.” He kissed her ups, not waiting for her approval, slipping his tongue into her mouth. “Hmmm, taste like brown sugar, apples, and cinnamon, too.”
She melted like the dabs of butter she’d spread on top of the lattice-work pie crusts. * Have… have you seen anyone with bite marks?”
He groaned. “Lelandi...” He shook his head. “I’m afraid either Angelina didn’t bite her attacker hard enough or the scar has already healed. No matter. We’ve got him where we want him. I’ve felt the distance between us when we’ve made love the last two days. I know you feel hurt that I wouldn’t tell you who I most suspect. But I have to do this my way, knowing you the way I do.”
She lifted her gaze from his chest to his eyes. “I love you, Darien, but I don’t want to be kept in the dark.”
He kissed her lips again, his fingers pushing a couple of buttons through the buttonholes on her silk blouse. He slipped his hands inside her blouse and fondled her breasts through the lacy bra.
“Ahh, Darien, you taste of apple cider, the good stuff.” She tangled her tongue with his for another spicy taste.
Voices drew nearer the kitchen, but suddenly stopped and footfalls moved discretely away. Lelandi suspected Silva and Carol were warding everyone away in lieu of a “Don’t Disturb” sign.
Darien tackled Lelandi’s belt, but she stilled his hands. “What are you doing?”
“I’m feeling testy.”
He captured her mouth with his, kissing her Into submission and moved her hands away from her belt, then unbuckled It. “We’ll enjoy the meal more after we relieve some of the tension between us.”
She suspected there was more to his need to make love to her than he was admitting. She recognized his craving to prove she was his and couldn’t understand what had triggered it again. Unless it was to confirm to his gathered pack that he had claimed her. No, it seemed to run deeper, like when he felt his pack members were hitting on her at the tavern, and he had to show she was his and only his.
He rubbed his hand between her legs, his fingers pressing the jeans and satin panties between her feminine folds, stealing her thoughts, eliciting a soft moan from her.
“Say you want to wait and we will,” he whispered into her ear, his voice husky with desire. He leaned his hardened erection against her and rubbed, “say you want me, Lelandi.”
She could no more resist him now than she could in her dreams. Seizing the buttons on his shirt, she nearly ripped them off in haste. She ran her hands over his bare chest, her fingernails flickering over his already pebbled nipples. With a groan, he yanked down her jeans and panties in one fell swoop. Leaning her against the kitchen table covered in flour, granules of brown sugar, and speckles of cinnamon, he shoved away mixing spoons and a sieve that clattered to the floor.
He dipped his hand in a bag of brown sugar, then sprinkled it on her bare breasts and stomach. Lelandi smiled. “You’re supposed to eat your meal, before you get dessert. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”
“I was more of a red meat kind of guy—although all of that’s changed.”
He shrugged out of his jeans and pushed her legs apart. But before he penetrated her woman’s core, he licked the sugar off her breasts and stomach, sending streaks of pleasure rifling through her. She needed this as much as he did. She wanted the closeness, the loving, the solidarity, before he had to fight. And if it gave him strength, all the better.
She combed her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the feel of the satiny strands and of his velvet tongue lapping at her skin. His fingers slipped down her stomach, tracing the slight swell in her belly, lower, to her short curly hairs, combing through them to discover the dewy opening between her thighs. Stroking her nub, he triggered flames of desire to sweep through her, a delicious torment, beggin
g to be appeased.
She dug her fingers into his back, the toned muscles of the lupus garou tensing with her touch, and she prodded him to penetrate her. She listened to the soothing sound of the thunder of his heartbeat, his heavy lusty breath, and her heartbeat pounding beneath his.
Darien plunged deep inside of her, his stiff cock thrusting with feverish intent, his pelvis rubbing her mound until every nerve was ready to explode.
“I love you,” she mouthed against his lips, remembering the dreams when she couldn’t hear her words or his. For the first time since he’d made the announcement about having the feast, she felt one with him again. Then an earth-shattering release compelled her to cry out, her body trembling with satisfaction, but Darien muffled her voice with another erotic deep kiss, his tongue probing her mouth.
Groaning, he filled her with his seed, but thrust twice more until she’d milked him dry, the orgasm rippling through her.
He closed his eyes and rested on top of her. “You are something else, honey.”
I could say the same about you.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “Now you’ll want a nap.”
Chuckling, he licked her lips. “Now I want a feast. And then dessert again.”
He rolled off her and a few granules of brown sugar sparkled on his chest. She licked them up, then he helped her off the table and wiped the flour from her back. “We’re a mess,” she whispered, her skin flushed with exertion.
He cast her a wolfish grin. “You got the brunt of it.” He brushed flour out of her hair and she groaned. “At least the granules of cinnamon disappear in the color of your hair.”
She gave him an annoyed look. “Next time, I’m on top. You can be covered in flour, sugar, and cinnamon.”
Chuckling, he helped her into her clothes. “I’m game.”
He touched her belly. “I understand Carol believes we’ll have triplets.”
“Conjecture.”
“Right. But she won’t tell me what sex they are.”