Seduced by the Wolf

by Terry Spear

Page 6

 

  He frowned at her, not comprehending. He hadn't intended for her to pay for the meal at the club.

  "The tires. " She cast him a tired smile.

  "Nothing. They shouldn't have been flattened in the first place. " He hesitated to open his door, not wanting her to flee into the inn. "Can I see you tomorrow? For breakfast before you leave?"

  "I don't eat breakfast, and I'll be long gone by then. If you have a business card and I'm in town again later, I'll give you a call. "

  The brush-off. It shouldn't have mattered. She was human. He couldn't have had any kind of long-term commitment with her. It did bother him. He didn't know why. Maybe because he hadn't been with a woman in so long, and she seemed so perfect. Just to spend the rest of the night with.

  He noted one of his men watching the truck from the distance, hidden in the woods. Good. Elgin had given the word to make sure no one ruined her tires again while she remained here.

  "'Night, Leidolf. " She seemed to want to kiss him, her gaze shifting to his mouth, her tongue sweeping over her lips as if in preparation, but when he leaned over to kiss her the way he really wanted to, she opened her door and headed for the inn.

  Watching her hurry up the flagstone walk, he knew he should leave it be. Let her go. Then again, he could come by in a couple of hours and try to see her one last time before she left for good. Maybe she'd change her mind and share a bite of breakfast with him anyway.

  He rubbed the whiskers appearing on his chin. Hell, he needed to give her his number in the event she left before he could see her again in the morning, just in case she did return to the area and wanted to visit him. He opened his door, slammed it shut, and hurried toward the inn, telling himself he had the most honorable of intentions. Even though he was dying to kiss the vixen good night, no sweet and unassuming peck on the cheek like she'd given him. Truly, that simple sign of affection had stirred him up all over again.

  Like a wolf on the hunt, he picked up his pace as the door to the inn closed shut behind her.

  * * *

  Cassie's heart raced as she ran through the hallway, heading for the kitchen and the back door that led out to the herb garden. As soon as she reached the kitchen, she heard the front door open. Leidolf. Had to be him. Coming to say good night? Hoping for an invitation to stay the rest of the evening, maybe. At least, she figured, he wanted a kiss. And she would have given it to him, if she hadn't worried she was getting herself in deeper trouble.

  She opened the kitchen door with a squeak, just about giving herself a heart attack as he stopped before the door of her room and called out in a low voice, "Cassie? It's me, Leidolf. " He didn't say anything for a moment. "I forgot to give you my number. "

  Feeling bad that she had to leave him without further word this way, she exited the house, shut the door, and slipped behind some shrubs in the event he heard the squeaking door and came to investigate. He didn't. Yet she had a job to do, and being with Leidolf or any other lupus garou wasn't going to help her get it done.

  She waited until the front door shut. When Leidolf's Humvee roared to life, she remained where she was until he drove off. Then she raced around to her truck, unlocked the door, and threw in her briefcase. She'd change out of her dressy clothes after she parked in the woods. Now was the time to find the little red wolf.

  As soon as she got on the road, she thought she was being followed. She glowered at the headlights behind her. She'd picked them up close to the B&B. Surely, Leidolf hadn't been watching and waiting for her to sneak off.

  She considered the height of the headlights. Looked like a pickup truck. She tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel. Someone was probably guarding her truck so no one else tore up her tires. Either that, or it was Alex. She groaned.

  Without any other choice, she drove two hours out of her way in the direction of California until the truck finally turned off. And then after driving another fifteen minutes to ensure she didn't pick him up again, she returned to the location where she'd seen the red wolf from the road.

  At the turnout for the trailhead, Cassie parked, changed clothes, and slept for a couple of hours. Then she grabbed her field pack and took off into the woods to locate the red wolf. After three hours of hiking up and down the hills and valleys, and crossing two rocky creeks, she was sure she was closing in on the elusive wolf.

  In hot pursuit of her goal, she slipped through the dappled forest, the filtered sunlight giving it a ghostly appearance. Her boots barely made a sound on ground cushioned with years of accumulated composting leaves, the earthy smell mixed with that of the ancient Douglas firs in the Mount Hood National Forest. She lifted her nose and sniffed the chilly spring air again, trying to locate the female wolf's scent that she'd smelled after tracking her into the area.

  Was it a regular lupus or a lupus garou?

  Had to be awolf. A werewolf wouldn't be running around in its fur coat in broad daylight. Or shouldn't be. Unless she was in trouble. Then that would put a different spin on the whole scenario.

  As a wolf biologist, Cassie was normally interested in only one thing: a plain, old wolf and its pack that she could study to dispel the myths and legends about the big, bad wolves--and get paid so she could continue to devote her life to their cause. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She owed their kind.

  Her shoulders growing weary, she shifted her backpack and crouched down to observe the ground, looking for signs of wolf prints. The water lapping at a bank some distance through the trees caught her attention. Maybe the wolf had left tracks on a muddy bank while she paused to drink there. Unless the bank was rocky. . .

  Cassie headed in that direction to check it out.

  What sounded like light footfalls on crunchy dried-out leaves caught her attention. Abruptly, she stopped in the heavily wooded area, smelled the air again, and listened. Just the breeze caressing the leaves and pine needles surrounding her, and hidden in the thick foliage, birds twittering with one another or scolding her for being too close to their nest, the babies peeping for another meal. Yet for the last couple of hours, she had felt as if someone was following her, tracking her every move. So what. . . or who would be trailing her?

  Taking a deep breath of the cool air, she didn't catch the scent of anyone or anything else. Either she was imagining things, or whatever-it-was knew to keep downwind of her. She hoped it wasn't Alex Wellington, trying to track her down again. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she swore she'd never convince him she strictly worked alone. And then she thought of Leidolf and those of his pack. She stood very still, listening, not hearing anything further. That's all she needed. Leidolf or one of his people tracking her.

  She brushed aside the soft needle-covered branches of a hemlock blocking her view of the source of water and. . . gasped.

  Not at the spectacular sight of the dark blue lake, still closed for visitor day use until May, but at the naked man standing mid-thigh in the cold water, his back to her as he stared out across the region.

  She didn't see anything to garner his attention but the beauty and serenity of the vista. Picturesque Mount Hood, the snow-covered volcanic mountain in the distance, the focal point of the whole landscape, so prominent that it could be seen from a hundred miles away.

  Well, it would have been the prominent feature if a naked man hadn't been standing in the lake in front of the view, taking center stage instead.

  Chestnut hair curled about the nape of his neck, shorter than she thought a reclusive mountain man would wear it. His backside was pure delight to look at, from his broad and muscled back down to his narrow waist and a toned butt a girl could die for. Muscular legs disappeared into water that rippled in the slight breeze.

  She sniffed the air but couldn't catch his scent. Being a lupus garou, she could smell the mood of an individual like any wolf could--whether he was fearful, aggressive, cowed, or sexually aroused. The way the man was standing so peacefully, she assum
ed his scent would be a mixture of woods, water, musky male, and blissful serenity.

  Before she could back up and leave, he dove into the lake with a splash and, with a powerful momentum, began swimming freestyle. Fascinated, she watched his compelling over-arm strokes and legs slicing the water, wondering how he could stomach the cold. Unexpectedly, he plunged beneath the surface. Forever, it seemed, she watched the dark blue waters, the building clouds making it appear blacker. And no sign of the man. He remained under so long that she finally took a step forward in rescue-mode when he suddenly rose up like Poseidon, Greek god of the sea, took a deep breath, and dove under again. She half-expected him to be wielding a trident while porpoises swam alongside him.

  Frozen in place, she continued to watch where he'd disappeared, when he abruptly shot up again. Only this time, he headed for the beach. She frowned. Leidolf? She couldn't be sure with the way he dove in and out of the water so quickly and the distance between her and the beach. Waiting for him to dive again, she didn't move. This time, he remained on the surface and kicked vigorously with his legs, his arms plying the water, his head mostly submersed under water as he swam toward the shore and a pile of clothes she hadn't noticed before.

  To her relief, his focus remained on the beach whenever he turned his head to take a breath of air. She was afraid that if she backed into the woods, he would notice her movement and, God forbid, realize she'd been a voyeur spying on him. Not that spying on him bothered her overly much. If he was going to run around naked at a closed park, it was his fault that she caught him at it. She still didn't want him catching her spying on him. Especially, if the man was Leidolf.

  So the plan was that as soon as he concentrated on dressing, she'd slip away.

  Upon reaching the shallows, he stood, and she swallowed hard. He looked different naked, his hair dripping wet. It was Leidolf.

  His strong legs plowing through the water, he waded toward the shore. The lake rippled at his navel, water droplets raised like translucent pearls all over his golden skin, his nipples crisply pebbled. Beautiful, powerful, tantalizing. Poseidon in the flesh, just as masculine and intriguing to women as the god who had exerted his power over them, just like his brother, Zeus.