Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  The next time Collette spoke, she lowered her voice, and Nora had to pay closer attention to listen to her words. “I think he might be considering sending her away after that stunt last week. He is giving us two days’ paid leave when he returns because I don’t think he wants us to witness it. Monsieur Charpentier says we should say our goodbyes to her.”

  “So sad,” Alex murmured. “I try to imagine what she would be like if she wasn’t so unstable. Sometimes I see such kindness in her eyes. What makes a woman like that?”

  “Moi aussi,” Collette replied. “But we will never know, and it is not our place to ask.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “Do you ever wonder if she is telling the truth?” Alex asked quietly.

  Collette scoffed. “About what? That she can fly, or that she is seven hundred years old? She is insane, Alex.”

  “No,” Alex said hesitatingly. “Not about that.” She paused for a long moment, and Nora forced herself to remain where she was. She hadn’t heard them move anywhere.

  “About what?” Collette demanded, and Alex let out a deep sigh. It was filled with reluctance.

  “That she has been kidnapped.”

  The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

  “She babbles in her sleep,” Collette snapped. “That is all.”

  “But she speaks English perfectly!” Alex insisted. “And out of nowhere! She is supposed to be from Nice, born and raised, but I am certain her accent is more British than French.”

  “Enough of this!” Collette almost yelled. “Go clean the kitchen. I must get to the second floor before she wakes. This is precisely why Monsieur Charpentier does not wish for us to speak with her. This is how silly rumors get started, Alex.”

  “I am not starting—”

  “Just go! Kitchen!” Collette ordered.

  Goosebumps exploded over Nora’s arms, and she watched as the women retreated toward the back of the house.

  I have said things to them, things I don’t remember. But are they true? Confusion overwhelmed her. Obviously, she could not fly, so why had Ansel told her to do that? Was he merely a voice in her head? Was she legitimately insane? Did she have multiple personalities or schizophrenia or something?

  That didn’t matter in that moment. When Jerome came back, she would either be sent off to some kind of facility, or she would be killed, and she didn’t want to stick around to find out which one it would be.

  With new resolve, Nora stole down the stairs, her breath in her throat, and disappeared into the bitter cold without looking behind her. Snow filled her slippers, but she was unaware of the cold as she rushed toward the garage. Marc lived in a small glass building, and as Nora silently allowed herself inside it, she prayed that he was home.

  “Allô?” Marc called in surprise as he heard the door open. Nora glanced up at the man looking at her over the railing of the loft, and his hazel eyes widened in shock. “Mademoiselle Nora! What is the matter? Are you hurt?” he demanded, rushing down the steps two at a time.

  Nora studied his face very closely as he tried not to look at her figure spilling out the top of her robe.

  “I am not hurt,” she assured him, glancing nervously over her shoulder. “Perhaps a little cold. Do you have any tea?”

  Marc nodded uncertainly, also looking toward the house.

  “I should call for Collette,” he said, and Nora sighed loudly.

  “I cannot find any escape in my own house!” she exclaimed. “I only wanted a moment of reprieve, but I see you are also against me having it also!”

  She spun to leave, her robe deliberately falling open as she did. Nora didn’t need to turn to feel Marc’s eyes boring through the flimsy material of her nightie. She wore nothing underneath.

  “No!” he cried out, and she released the breath she had been holding. “No, mademoiselle, please stay! I did not mean to be rude, I am so sorry. I have tea, of course.”

  Nora turned to gaze at him, her eyes locking on his.

  “I do not wish to cause you any trouble,” she muttered, her voice growing watery as she spoke. “I am… I am just so lonely in that house all by myself. Jerome leaves me for days at a time, and those women…”

  Marc smiled knowingly. “I understand completely, mademoiselle. Please, come upstairs where it is warm. I have the wood stove going, and I shall find you a blanket for your legs.”

  He stepped aside to allow her through, and Nora smiled faintly to herself, even though her heart threatened to leap from her throat.

  I can do this, she thought, entering the apartment. I must do this. It is my only chance to save myself.

  “What kind of tea would you like, Mademoiselle Nora?” Marc asked, hurrying into the kitchen, his eyes still fixated on her figure. “I have several herbals or black tea. I also have—”

  He stopped talking as Nora allowed the robe to drop to the floor.

  “I have a better idea,” she told him, sashaying toward him. “Let’s skip the tea and go directly for cookies. I think this is a much better way to warm up, don’t you agree?”

  11

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Louis asked as the inspectors finally left them alone. “Who is this girl?”

  “She was a fling. I didn’t even know her full name,” Ansel insisted, shaking his head. “This is awful.”

  “It is awful!” Louis snapped. “Your DNA and fingerprints are all over that room!”

  “As I explained, I was in that room,” Ansel replied dryly. “Hers are also all over my suite. That only proves we were intimate, which I already confessed to.”

  “You can’t afford something like this, Ansel! This is not good for your career.”

  Ansel scowled at his trainer. “First of all, you’re my trainer, not my manager. Get Philip on the phone. Secondly, I did not do anything wrong. Why would I hurt the girl?”

  “You better keep your head down, Ansel,” Louis said. “They will be watching you and waiting for you to make a bad move. I can’t believe this! How could you be so reckless when everything was going so well!”

  Ansel gaped at Louis.

  “You think I had something to do with this?” he demanded.

  “Of course not,” Louis answered, but Ansel could read the worry in his face.

  “Then stop talking like I did something wrong! It’s a tragedy, but I would wager that every celebrity knows at least one murder victim.”

  Louis scowled at him. “This is not a time to make jokes, Ansel! Your career is at risk!”

  “My career?” Ansel echoed. “A girl has been murdered, Louis!”

  “Of course I know that!” Louis growled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Ansel glared at him. He didn’t have time to fight with Louis. Nora was out there somewhere, and he needed to find her.

  “You should go to Tanya,” Ansel said shortly. “She’s waiting on you.”

  “Are you kidding?” Louis shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t trust you to stay put!”

  “You are not staying here!” Ansel exclaimed. “I’ve had enough of you. I don’t know why you even got out of the car. They weren’t talking to you, they were talking to me!”

  “Oh, I’m staying,” Louis spat. “And so are you. I have invested just as much in myself into your career as you have. I’ll be damned if I am going to let that go because you’re too pigheaded to do the right thing!”

  It was obvious that Ansel was not going to win the argument with Louis, not that night. He thought about sneaking off when Louis fell asleep, but he knew that he was right.

  They probably have a car sitting in front of my house, Ansel realized. I can’t very well fly off without being noticed. Goddamn it, Carrie! Why did you have to go get yourself killed?

  Of course, he wasn’t angry with Carrie. He simply couldn’t believe how so much could go so awry in such a short timeframe. This entire ordeal had been a nightmare so far, and it only seemed to be getting worse. First Tony Valducci, then
Nora resurfacing while she was in danger, and now Carrie?

  Ansel froze and stared at Louis for a long moment.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Louis demanded. Then his gaze softened. “What did you do?”

  What did I do? Ansel asked himself. Did I get Carrie killed?

  “Ansel, why are you so pale? What’s wrong?”

  Sickness filled his gut as a picture of what had happened came together in his mind.

  “I need to make a call,” he muttered, hurrying up the stairs to the third floor of his townhouse. Valducci had seen Carrie the day he had gone to Ansel’s room to collect his money. And then Ansel had set his house on fire.

  Had… had Valducci gone after Carrie for revenge? Had he killed her to send a message to Ansel?

  Guilt choked Ansel, but he willed himself to remain calm. He had no proof of that, of course, but it was a better theory than the one the police from Las Vegas had.

  Inspector Watkins had warned him that the detectives would be there the following afternoon to take his statement.

  “They are eager to see this matter resolved, as you can imagine,” the inspector had told him as they turned for the door.

  “I imagine it is bad for business at the Bellagio,” Ansel had replied tightly.

  The inspectors had chuckled.

  “We had the very same thought. I would recommend you are honest with them,” Inspector Valentino had told him. “As much as we are reluctant to do it to a British citizen, we do have an extradition treaty with the United States.”

  “I did not murder that girl,” Ansel had snapped at him. “And I have been completely honest with you.”

  “Then you have nothing to fear.”

  Should I tell the Vegas police what I think happened? Ansel wondered. Then he shook his head to himself. If Tony Valducci was responsible for Carrie’s death, Ansel would seek his own retribution, but first he would need to prove it.

  “I thought you were making a phone call?” Louis called from the doorway.

  “I’m calling Phillip,” Ansel told him.

  “Good idea,” Louis agreed. “And then I want you to sit down and walk me through every minute of your Las Vegas trip when you were not in my sight.”

  Ansel rolled his eyes. “Oh, Louis—”

  “Don’t ‘oh, Louis’ me! I am preparing you for what’s coming tomorrow. They will do everything they can to trip you up and twist your words. And if they have their way, you’ll end up in jail being charged with first degree murder by the end of business tomorrow!”

  “You exaggerate,” Ansel sighed. “They can’t charge someone with murder on a hunch. They need evidence.”

  “Do I exaggerate?” Louis snarled, closing the space between them. “I did five years for a bank robbery I didn’t commit in the eighties because a seventy-four-year-old great grandmother identified me in a line up. I was in Florida at the time. Didn’t stop them from booking me in New York. You’re too cocky, Ansel and that’s great in the ring, but in real life, it’s not going to serve you well.”

  Ansel stared at him, surprised by the confession.

  I really don’t know the first thing about this man, do I? he thought with a sudden appreciation for his trainer.

  “But you had a record, didn’t you?” Ansel asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Never mind what I did in the eighties!” Louis said with a scowl. “Why don’t you walk me through what you know?”

  “All right,” Ansel agreed. “I will tell you everything that happened, but it stays between us.”

  Louis sighed. “We should probably find you a lawyer, too. I’ll leave that to Phillip.”

  Ansel turned back to the phone and removed the cordless from the handset. As he dialled, he saw a flash of Nora’s face flitter before him.

  I will be there soon, he promised her. He resisted the urge to leave Louis and go find her, knowing it would only bring about more trouble. Even though he wanted to believe that Nora was fine, his instinct told him that she wasn’t, that she needed his help. If I go for her now, we will never be safe anywhere again. We will be hunted together if people learn about us. You must hold on, love. I will come for you.

  Wherever she was, Ansel hoped she understood and forgave him for leaving her behind…

  Again.

  Nora was naked, a coy smile on her full mouth, her dark eyes sparkling as they did before they made love.

  “You have finally come for me,” she called, reaching out to touch his face. Ansel swept forward to embrace her tightly. “I knew you would come.”

  “Of course,” he whispered huskily into her dark hair. “Where have you been?” The sweet scent of her filled his nose, and he was instantly brought back to the castle in Misty Woods, where they would sneak away to lose themselves with wild abandon.

  Ansel drew back and stared into her shining dark eyes as she cocked her head to the side. When his lips found hers, he felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest.

  How had they stayed apart for so long?

  Everything was right again, and any apprehension that had plagued Ansel dissipated within Nora’s arms. She reached up, pulling him toward her, and their bodies ground into each other as they fell to their knees, their mouths continuing to explore one another.

  Nothing was around them or above them, but it didn’t matter; Ansel had everything he needed. He eagerly kissed her face, his eyes open as he stared at her, savoring every detail of her beauty.

  How could I have ever allowed her to get away? he thought, his mouth travelling down her naked shoulders and along the tender lines of her perfectly sculpted breasts. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other drawing her buttocks upward as he teased her nipple. The scent of her drove Ansel higher into ecstasy, his shaft growing harder as he positioned his face between her long legs.

  A burst of heat exploded from her middle, and he sighed in content, smiling as he continued his journey across her flat stomach, her fingers twining in his dark hair.

  “I’ve missed you,” Nora mumbled.

  Ansel moaned, pushing her thighs apart to nuzzle her damp middle. His tongue teased her pink bud and Nora’s body tensed as a soft cry escaped her lips. He followed with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, relishing the tension in her body as she clung to him. Her breaths began to exit her body in short, quick puffs, and Ansel could feel the smoke against his own nude skin.

  His hands closed around Nora’s shapely hips, yanking her upward, his tongue jutting into her core. Soon, his movements were rewarded. She moaned wildly as she released. His shaft full and ready, Ansel propped himself upward and stared at her lovingly.

  “I will never let you go again,” he whispered to her, sliding his rigid member against her cleft.

  Nora shivered beneath him, her palms falling against his rear, her eyes pleading for him to take her.

  “It has been so long,” she murmured. “I have craved you every minute we have been apart.”

  A slow smile formed on Ansel’s lips, and he crushed his mouth to hers as he filled her deeply.

  Nails dug into his rear, and he bucked upward into her, the two becoming one again, as they had always been meant to be. Sweat rolled down Nora’s temples, her neck falling back for Ansel to kiss, and his mouth met the flesh eagerly. His member was growing hot and throbbing inside Nora’s center.

  Suddenly, Nora opened her eyes and shook her head.

  “It’s too late,” she said, and Ansel paused in mid-thrust uncomprehendingly.

  “Too late?” he echoed.

  “It’s too late to save me, Ansel,” she whispered. In the blink of an eye, Nora had disappeared beneath him, like she had never been there to begin with.

  “Nora?” Ansel cried, sitting up in confusion. “Nora!” he screamed, but all he could see around him was absolute darkness.

  She was gone.

  “Nora!”

  “Ansel, get up!”

  Someone roughly shoved Ansel, and he whirled around to fi
ght off the aggressor. Before he could do anything, light filled his vision. He blinked several times, and it was only until he could open his eyes that he realized he was lying down in his bed, at his home in London.

  Three people were looking down at him: Louis, his manager Phillip, and a man he did not recognize.

  Nora was not with him, and she was not any closer than she had been the previous day. It had only been a dream. She wasn’t calling out to him.

  “What’s going on?” Ansel muttered, sitting up. “Who is this?”

  “I am Detective Carlsberg of the Las Vegas Police Department,” the stranger said curtly. “You need to get up and get dressed, Mr. Williams.”

  “Phillip, what is going on?” Ansel demanded of his manager, but the lanky man only sighed.

  “You need to do as he says, Ansel. A barrister is downstairs, and I have arranged for a lawyer to meet with you in Vegas.”

  “In Vegas?” Ansel echoed. “I’m not going back to the States!”

  Phillip and Louis glanced at the floor as the detective stepped forward.

  “Mr. Williams, you are under arrest for the murder of Carolyn Halpstern. You have the right to remain silent—”

  Ansel stared at his team in shock, hardly hearing the rest of the Miranda warning.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” he demanded. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “You can’t resist,” Phillip said. “You’ll only make things worse.”

  “What the bloody hell do I pay you for?” Ansel roared, still reluctant to rise from the safety of his bed. “Get me out of this mess!”

  “We will!” Louis assured him nervously. “But you have to go with the police now, Ansel.”

  Ansel knew he was in no position to argue—not without causing more issues.

  “He’s right, Mr. Williams,” Detective Carlsberg intoned, and Ansel scowled at him.

  “Would you mind leaving the room so I can get dressed, at least?”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Louis volunteered quickly. Detective Carlsberg gazed at them warningly.