by Judy Mays
Artemis rolled onto his back, laced his fingers behind his head, and closed his eyes.
Moira was ready to slip off the bed. She glanced towards Artemis and stopped.
His entire body was tensed, and his forehead was wrinkled. But it was the expression of complete misery on his face that stopped her from leaving.
“What,” she swallowed, “what happened?”
“When our cubs turned five months old, Myste was shot by a poacher.”
Sympathy washed the fear from Moira. “Oh, Artemis, I’m so sorry.”
When he opened his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek. “If it hadn’t been for the cubs, I’d have died too.”
“Belle and Brendan?”
He nodded. “And Melody, Garth, and Kearnan.”
Moira couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “There are more than Belle and Brendan.”
“There were five in the litter all together. Myste was such a good mother, all of the cubs survived.”
“Belle and Brendan’s mother was a wolf? But why do they look human?”
“They got human DNA from me. Most wolves consider themselves superior to humans, and even those with werewolf blood rarely ever consider learning how to harness their power and change into humans. However, my cubs decided they had to learn to keep me alive.”
“Were they right?”
A sad smile appeared on Artemis’s face. “Yes. Without Myste, I didn’t want to live.”
Moira leaned closer and punched him in the shoulder. “Why you selfish bastard! Your babies were five months old when their mother died, and all you could think of was yourself? How could you do that when they needed you more than they ever had. And you want me to marry you? I’d sooner marry a vampire.”
Turning away from Artemis, Moira rolled off the bed and strode to the open door where she grabbed the clothes Belle was carrying.
“Your father needs a good kick in the ass,” she snapped. “If I were you, I’d use spiked heels.”
After shimmying out of what was left of her dress, Moira tugged on the jogging suit Belle had brought and slid her feet into the sneakers. “Where’s a phone. I want to call a cab.”
“There’s one on the way for you now.”
Moira paused as she stepped through the doorway. “Thank you. It was—interesting meeting you, Belle. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way when I say I hope I never see any of you again.”
Belle simply grinned. “By the time you get downstairs, the cab will be there. I’m glad I met you, Moira. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” floated back through the hallway.
“Why did you call her a cab?”
Belle turned back to her father. “She has a lot to think about, Father. And she couldn’t do that with you breathing down her neck.”
Mist formed on the bed then drifted across the room to where Artemis’s trousers were heaped on the floor. The mist settled over them. It dissipated, and Artemis reappeared wearing his pants.
“Show off,” Belle said.
Chapter 6
Moira dropped the spare key usually hidden in the false rock next to the front porch on the hall table. She’d been in such a hurry to get out of Artemis’s house, she hadn’t even grabbed her purse. Well, he could keep it. No way was she going back there to get it. Staring at the key, she stuck her hand into the pocket of the sweat pants Belle had given her to wear and pulled out the business card she’d found there. Midnight black with one line of silver printing next to a wolf’s head. Artemis Gray’s private phone number.
“Is that you Moira?”
“It’s me, Granddad. Why aren’t you in bed?”
Sighing, she headed for the living room. Maybe it was good he wasn’t in bed. If anyone could make some sense out of the outlandish story she had to tell, it would be her grandfather.
When she stepped through the door, her eyes automatically zeroed in on the wheel chair sitting next to the fireplace. It was empty.
“I’m over here on the sofa, lass. Got tired of sitting upright waiting for you, and fell asleep on the sofa. It’s not midnight yet. Either you’re coming home too early or too late.”
Flopping down onto the sofa, Moira raked her fingers through her tangled hair, grimacing when they caught in a snarl. “Too late by far, Granddad.”
“Do you want to be talking about it then?”
Moira glanced over at her grandfather. His body may have withered over the years, but his mind was still sharp behind his piercing blue eyes. No matter how busy he’d been, he always taken the time to listen to her problems and offer advice. Moira felt her lips twitch. Some advice. It had almost always entailed her having to figure things out for herself. Ah well, may as well grab the bull by the horns. Granddad’s reaction would be interesting.
“I met a werewolf tonight.”
A smile curved his lips. “Did you now? And did he have big teeth?”
Moira relaxed more. “Very big teeth.”
“And did he try to bite you then?”
Moira rubbed her neck. “He didn’t try to bite me. He did bite me.”
Her grandfather’s smile became a frown. “Nibbles or real bites?”
Moira shivered as the memory of Artemis’s nibbling kisses changed to sharper nips. “Well, he didn’t really bite me. I mean he didn’t break the skin. More like nips. Yeah, sharp nips.”
He lowered his head and stared at her over his glasses. “And, were you having sex with him when he nipped you?”
Heat erupted into Moira’s face. “Grandfather!”
“I’m not blind, lass. Those weren’t the clothes you were wearing when you left earlier. Now how is it he let you leave?”
“Let me leave?” Moira gawked at her grandfather. “You mean you believe me?”
“Of course, I do. You haven’t married yourself off to a human, so it was only a matter of time until you found one of the Others, or one of them found you. I always thought it would be one of the Fae, though, since you’ve more of their blood. But then, you’ve been wearing that aconite based perfume for the last few months. It was only a matter of time until one of them found you.”
“Found—me?” she sputtered.
“Aye, your grandmother was half Fae, you know. I’ve only a bit of werewolf blood from my grandfather’s grandfather. It had to be the wolfsbane.”
Her heart was thumping in her ears. “Your grandfather’s grandfather?”
“Aye. He was from northern Wales. There was a village there where humans and werefolk mostly got along. Might be gone by now.”
It was heard to breathe. “Mostly—got along?”
Her grandfather nodded and continued to smile at her.
Speechless, Moira stared at the old man who had raised her since she was eight. Fae blood, werewolf blood? What was he talking about?
A log snapped and sparks shot up the chimney.
Moira leaped to her feet and planted herself in front of her grandfather. “Seamus Pat rick O’Brien, are you crazy? Did you fall and hit your head today?”
Seamus cocked his head to the smiled a gentle smile. “No, Moira, I’m not crazy, and I didn’t fall and hit my head. Everything I’m telling you is the truth. Fae, werewolves, elves, and many more do exist though they do their best to blend in with normal humans.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Moira wilted onto the foot rest before the sofa. “No. Who would?”
“Exactly. Now, what was his name, your werewolf?”
Moira snorted. “He’s not my werewolf.”
Seamus leaned forward and patted her knee. “I’m afraid he is yours, lass, and you’re his.”
Artemis’s Mine echoed in her mind.
“What do you mean?”
Seamus sighed and leaned back. “Werewolves are like wolves. They mate for life unless their mates die young.”
Moira swallowed. “His did.”<
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Seamus nodded. “An older male, one who’s been mated before. He’ll have no doubts about you then.”
“What do you mean, no doubts.”
“Until you came along, he probably didn’t notice other women—human or werewolf. He’d been mated once, for what he thought was life. She meant everything to him. That’s how werewolves are, completely faithful to their mates often even after a mate dies. I have enough of their blood to know I’d never want another woman after your grandmother died. You were probably as much of a surprise to him as he was to you.”
Stormy gray eyes appeared in her mind. I haven’t made love to a woman since before Myste died .
“Moira. Moira?”
Her grandfather’s voice penetrated.
“What?”
His voice was very gentle. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you feel about him?”
Moira shoved herself up and began to pace. “How do I feel about him? I didn’t even know him twenty-four hours ago. How can I possibly feel anything for him?”
“You felt enough to make love with him.”
“So.”
“Moira, I’ve never pried into your private affairs, but gentlemen callers have been few and far between around here. And those few you did introduce to me didn’t have you falling into their beds the same night. I know you better than that. This werewolf is different, and you know it. Best if you admit it to yourself and not fight your own nature.”
“What would you know about it?”
Seamus laughed. “My Da didn’t tell me about our werewolf blood until a certain half Fae came floating about the house. Seems the Fae and werefolk didn’t see eye to eye. He didn’t want me seeing her anymore.”
She sank onto the sofa next to him. “But you married Gram.”
“Aye, I did, after almost a year of pure misery. My soul knew she was right for me, and I suffered every day I stayed away from her. I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”
“But Granddad. I don’t even know Artemis.”
“Artemis? Artemis Gray of the new men’s cologne?”
Moira nodded.
“Well, now. Who would have thought he was a werewolf.” He patted her knee. “Don’t fight your instincts, Moira. They’ll not lie to you. If he’s your one true mate, your heart will know.”
Moira dipped her head and sighed. She had been drawn to Artemis as soon as she’d fist smelled the cologne he concocted. When she’d first seen him, the urge to meet him had gotten stronger. And when he touched her, she didn’t want him to let her go.
Seamus patted her knee again.
She looked up.
The twinkle in his eye was impossible to ignore.
“What?”
“No matter how often your grandmother submitted to me, she still led me about like a bull with a ring in his nose. To a female werewolf, submission is the acceptance of a mate, nothing more. You need a strong mate, Moira, someone whose spirit is as strong as yours whether he be human or werewolf. You’re a strong-willed woman, an alpha. If he weren’t strong enough to hold you, you’d not think twice about him.”
Moira rose. “I—I need to think, Grandfather. This is all so—strange.”
“Go to bed and sleep on it. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Do you need anything?”
Seamus waved her away. “Be off with you, lass. I can manage to get myself to bed.”
The adrenaline fueling the righteous indignation that had carried Moira home was gone. Her brain was spinning with everything her grandfather had told her, and she was exhausted.
Great sex will do that to you , an insidious voice in her head whispered.
Moira bent over and kissed her grandfather’s head. She really did need to get some sleep. She’d worry about all of this in the morning.
“I don’t care what you have to do but I want her at this address tomorrow, understand?”
The bald man looked at his companion and nodded.
“Here’s her address. Her grandfather lives with her. He confined to a wheelchair. Make sure she hears you threaten him, but don’t hurt him—or her, or she won’t cooperate.”
Another nod.
“Well, don’t just stand there. I’m paying you good money. Go get her.”
Both men turned away and slipped silently through the door.
Sylvia James patted her perfectly coiffed hair and smiled. Moira Archer would remain in the employ of James Perfumes one way or another, whether she liked it or not. She was a genius with perfume formulas, more so than any of the so-called chemists employed by the company, and Sylvia wasn’t going to lose her to a competitor. Once Moira understood just how—perilous—her grandfather’s condition was, she’d cooperate.
Chapter 7
Yawning, Moira pulled the belt tighter around her silk robe and stumbled into the kitchen, following the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Thank goodness Granddad had set the automatic timer because she really needed caffeine. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, she set it down and filled it to the brim. No cream today. She needed it black.
Mug cradled between her palms, she sank into a chair by the table. Sipping the hot coffee she grimaced. It was stronger than usual, but the bitter taste did wake her up. Soon, the caffeine would give her the energy she needed to get through the morning anyway. Goodness knows, she didn’t get any sleep last night. All she did was toss and turn and think about Artemis.
Damn it, what was she supposed to do? Him being a werewolf aside, she’d just met him. How could she agree to marry a man she barely even knew?
Out side the open kitchen window, a bird began to sing.
“Oh, shut up. What the hell do you have to sing about anyway?”
“Ouch, lass, but is that anyway to be talking on such a fine May morning?” Seamus asked as he slid shut the glass door that opened onto the patio behind their house. “The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, and love is in the air.”
Moira scowled at her grandfather. “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
He grinned. “You already asked last night. I’ll not be butting into what isn’t my business now then, will I?”
Smiling in spite of herself, Moira shook her head. Granddad always knew what to say to make her smile.
She pushed herself up out of her chair and turned towards the coffee pot. “Do you want some coffee?”
The sound of shattering glass answered her.
Moira spun around to find broken glass from the door sparkling on the floor, and a huge linebacker of a man wearing a black ski mask holding a gun to her grandfather’s head. Another, even larger man in a blue ski mask stood just behind him, his attention divided between her and their backyard.
“What do you want? Please don’t hurt him. I’ll give you all the money we have in the house.”
The man with the gun shook his head. “We don’t want any money, lady. We’re here for you.” He motioned with his gun. “Let’s go.”
Moira stiffened her spine and drew herself up to her full five foot three inch height. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The big man shrugged. “You don’t cooperate, I break the old man’s fingers.”
Moira’s knees knocked together as all the fight drained from her body. Hurt her grandfather if she didn’t cooperate. Who wanted her? Why?
“Don’t go with them, Moira,” Seamus said.
The gun was pushed against the side of his head.
“Not another word, old man. The boss wants her, and the boss is going to get her.”
She stiffened. Only one person wanted her that badly, the son of a bitch.
“Okay then,” she snarled and stabbed her finger at the man with the gun. “Let’s go. But understand this, if you so much as hurt a hair on my grandfather’s head, you’ll regret it to your dying day. And I’m not kidding. I wasn’t afraid of your boss last night, and I’m not afraid of him now.”
Her kidnap
per laughed. “Yeah, I’m real scared. Now, let’s go.”
Shoving a chair out of her way, Moira stomped across the kitchen past both men and stepped into the garden. If Artemis Gray thought he was going to endear himself to her by threatening her, he was dead wrong. By the time she was finished with him, he’d be sorry he ever met her.
“Don’t call the cops, old man, not if you want to see her alive again.”
With those words, the both men turned and followed Moira out of the house.
Seamus whirled his wheelchair and headed for the front foyer. There on the hall table he found the spare key where Moira had left it. Next to it lay the business card he’d noticed before he’d gone to bed the last night. The black card with silver ink. It had to be Artemis Gray’s home phone number. Moira thought he was behind her kidnapping, but everything Seamus knew about werewolves told him that Artemis would just come get her himself, not send lackeys.
He grabbed the phone and punched in the number. It only rang twice.
“Moira?”
“No. This is her grandfather. And if you’re not the one who just had her kidnapped, she’s in danger.”
A small bit of the worry wrapped around Seamus’s heart eased when the other end of the line went dead. Only a fool would lay his hands on the mate of a werewolf.
Exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the front door exploded open. Plaster splattered to the floor as the door crashed into the wall and stuck there. The doorknob was buried completely into the drywall.
Seamus wheeled his chair back out of the way, as the man he presumed to be Artemis Gray stalked into the foyer.
“Where?” he barked.
Seamus wheeled back out of his way. The black look on Artemis’s face didn’t bode well for the men who’d taken Moira.
“The kitchen. They came through the garden. Probably had a car waiting.”
“I’ll find her, “ he snarled and stalked past Seamus. A younger version of Artemis followed him. Both men disappeared through the kitchen door. Seamus heard glass crunch, then all was silent.