Of course—Bryan considered another point of view—she might still have reacted badly to him, no matter how he introduced himself. She’d become even more agitated when he mentioned wolves and the pack; the idea of another werewolf seemed to scare her to death for some reason. He knew she’d been raised by humans, but Greyson had been seeking out a werewolf pack for her to join, so why had she been on the verge of hysterics?
The elevator gave a slight pinging noise announcing he’d arrived at his floor. He took a deep breath wondering what he’d find when he got to his room. There was some major damage control to do and it was all his fault. Hopefully, she’d just be waking up and they could start off on a fresh note. He had coffee and donuts as a peace offering. And maybe he’d even try a bit of humour. That usually helped break the ice...
*****
The pillow beneath her head was softly scented with the most delicious smell. Cassie buried her face into it and inhaled deeply, a slight smile forming on her face as a sense of warmth and security filled her. Reaching out, she searched for the covers, anxious to pull them up around her shoulders and drift back to sleep.
Her grasping fingers didn’t find a blanket and she muttered in annoyance, wondering if it had been kicked onto the floor. Usually, she wasn’t a restless sleeper except during a full moon. Frowning, she tried to recall what day it was.
Could it be the full moon already? Her brain responded sluggishly as images and memories drifted past. For some reason her thoughts were hazy and focussing was difficult. Well, she was often confused or disoriented during a full moon, so possibly that was the case. Rolling over, she groaned, the back of her head throbbing lightly as it pressed into the pillow.
“Must have been thrashing about and hit it on something.” She mumbled to herself as she manoeuvred her head to the side. Ah! That was better. Still half asleep, she brought her hand up to touch the tender area. Her fingers encountered a small lump, but there was no stickiness to indicate blood. That was a good thing. During a full-moon, it wasn’t uncommon for her to awaken bruised and battered, having only the vaguest recollections of what happened while she was locked in her room. On a few occasions, she’d even managed to escape the house, waking up in some of the strangest places.
The first time it happened, she’d ended up in the alley where Kellen had found her. On another occasion it had been a neighbourhood park and once she’d even found herself in the employees’ room at the grocery store. Luckily, she’d always been able to make her own way home or find a means of contacting Kellen.
A smile drifted over her face as she thought of Kellen. He always came to get her; scooping her up, lecturing her about her drug habit... The smile faded as she thought about all the lies she’d told him over the years. She wished she could share the truth with him, but it was too dangerous. No one could ever know what she really was...
It seemed amazing that no one had ever discovered her wandering about in a semi-conscious state; at least to the best of her knowledge, no one had. She always scoured the news after the fact, praying that there would be no reports of strange inexplicable attacks by wild dogs. There never were, but she always worried, just in case. The animal inside her wasn’t to be trusted.
Cassie shifted back onto her side, keeping her eyes closed as she hovered on the edge of sleep. It was puzzling how she ended up in those places. They were usually locations she was thinking about just before the pills took effect, she never had any recollection of how she got there. And when she returned home, the door to her room was still locked, so how had she managed to escape?
Over the past three years, she’d done her share of research on werewolves, trying to understand this mysterious other half of herself. There were so many sites and so much information, but no real way to authenticate what she read. Most of it she supposed was just the stuff Hollywood movies were made of—images of grotesque and painful transformations, creatures howling at the moon—or at least she hoped it was all fanciful cinematography. Still, her own experience allowed her to glean a few nuggets of truth such as the monthly effect of the moon.
One site had talked about supposedly ‘royal’ or ‘blue-blooded wolves’ being able to teleport, or move from place to place, simply by thinking of a location, though apparently it was a skill that was hard to master. She wasn’t sure if that was what she did or not, though it was a possible explanation.
The main flaw in the theory was the whole idea of being werewolf ‘royalty.’ It was almost farcical to her to suppose that savage beasts could ever organize themselves into an aristocracy! Yet again, she shook her head in disbelief of the very idea, wincing as the movement reminded her that her head hurt. She sighed supposing she should get up and put some ice on the lump.
Slowly stretching, she reluctantly opened her eyes and then froze her arms still extended at her sides. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the unfamiliar curtains and furniture. This wasn’t her bedroom! She bolted upright and everything seemed to spin wildly for a moment before slowly righting itself. Her heart pounding, she looked around finding herself in a totally unfamiliar room.
Something about the decor led her to believe she was in a motel, but where? She half fell off the bed and rushed to the window to peer outside. A partially filled parking lot and the back of a building met her inquiring gaze. There was no visible sign to indicate the name of the place, but at least it appeared she was still in Las Vegas; the palm trees and cacti that bordered the parking lot were reassuringly familiar.
Letting the curtain fall back into place, she scanned the room, her gaze lighting upon a pile of clothing on the floor and an open suitcase sitting on chair in the corner. She approached it hesitantly, almost fearful of what she’d find. The clothing was damp to the touch and she found a previously unnoticed towel folded across the arm of the chair. Biting her lip nervously, she began to rifle through the contents of the suitcase. Men’s shirts, pants, underwear... She quickly dropped them, wiping her hands on her pants in disgust. Dear heaven, they weren’t even Kellen’s—he wore boxers not briefs!
A horrid thought suddenly popped into her head, and she looked down, running her hands over her body, relieved to find she was fully dressed except for her shoes. For a moment, she’d feared she’d gone into an early heat and ended up with some strange man! Sighing in relief that at least she hadn’t done something totally inappropriate, she rubbed her forehead trying to recall who owned the suitcase and how she’d come to be here...
Before any answers came to mind, a sound behind her alerted her someone was coming. Swinging around, she faced the door and watched with trepidation as it swung open. A tall, well built man walked in, and that’s when it all came rushing back to her.
Oh God, it was Bryan, the stalker guy from the grocery store! Somehow, he’d followed her to her house and had been waiting for her when she left for work this morning. And, worse still, he claimed to not only know about werewolves; he said he was one, the pack Beta no less! Warily, she backed away from him, her legs hitting the bed and causing her to sit down on the mattress with an undignified bounce.
He chuckled, seeming to find her retreat funny. “Just the sight of me already has you falling into bed, eh?”
“Stay back! Don’t come any closer.” Cassie issued the warning while managing to right herself and then skittered across the bed, pressing herself to the headboard. The beast inside her was bouncing up and down like a puppy presented with a juicy bone. Its obvious pleasure in seeing the man was in stark contrast to her own horror. Did the creature have no sense at all? Sure the man was drop dead gorgeous, his eyes an intriguing hazel, his lips curved in a smile that begged to be tasted...
The man stepped even closer and her breath caught in her throat. Was that a leering expression on his face? Her skin tingled with expectant awareness, waiting for the touch of his fingers, the brush of his lips. A mental image of his mouth on her flesh, his body pressing hers to the bed popped into her head and—how embarrassing—an ache began low in h
er belly at the idea of being ravished. No! These couldn’t be her thoughts; the creature was taking over, that had to be it!
Her eyes fixated on his gleaming white teeth, the slightly longer than normal canines. She took in his broad shoulders and muscular forearms, part of her longing to run her hands over their surface while another piece of her acknowledged she’d never stand a chance against him in a real fight. A distressed whimper escaped her lips and she snatched up a pillow, clutching it to her chest even though it would provide no protection. The man had claimed to be a werewolf and she knew what werewolves could do...
*****
Marla finished the electronic transfer that deposited money into Nick Grant’s bank account as per Aldrich’s instructions, then sighed heavily and finger combed her hair away from her face. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she mentally went over the tasks she still had to complete; double checking the other employees had been paid, dealing with the utilities, setting up an appointment with Swanson for a security check of the Estate... She hated this part of her job. Travelling about in the limo was one thing; sitting at a desk was sheer drudgery.
Trapped inside, always trapped inside. When will it end? Where is the freedom to roam, to run? Her inner wolf paced back and forth in the cage she had imposed upon it. A real mate, a real pack, our own kind...
Rubbing her forehead, Marla tried to ignore the relentless questions, the inner agitation. Whining and complaining will do you no good, she scolded. This is the best course for us. We never did fit into a pack, nor enjoyed our pack mates, remember?
You didn’t, the wolf scolded back, but then again you never tried. Always out for yourself. Pack is everything, our family, our reason for being.
Family, she scoffed. I have no family. My father is dead, my mother left me behind.
You chose to stay, the wolf reminded her.
Only because she didn’t really want me. No one ever really wanted me. Pack is nothing! This, she swept her arm out encompassing the room, is real. Clawing and scraping your way ahead, finding a secure source of money. Then we’ll be independent and need no one.
No one? The wolf answered sadly. How lonely...
Shaking her head, Marla stood up and paced the room, trying to calm down from the argument she’d just had with herself. Thankfully no one had come in. She ran her fingers through her hair again and straightened her dress. Then, chin lifted, she sat down, tucking her chair in near the desk, once more the image of an efficient personal assistant.
Her job had evolved over the past few years, moving from simply being a temporary secretary to that of personal assistant. Aldrich seldom visited his offices anymore, conducting most of his business over the phone or the internet, so she spent a great deal of time stuck in his penthouse. At least if she was in an office building, she’d be able to ogle the men that worked there. Instead, here she was surrounded by the same boring people day after day, dealing with Aldrich’s personal bills, consulting with his housekeeper over menus and generally overseeing almost every aspect of his life.
At first, she’d been pleased, seeing her work here as a stepping stone to gaining his confidence and becoming more ‘intimately’ involved. She’d envisioned accompanying him on business trips and to social functions where she’d be required to wear designer gowns and drink champagne. Instead, Aldrich had become increasingly reclusive and, while the man allowed her to balance his household accounts, he was proving to be annoyingly immune to her charms.
Oh, he appreciated her physical attributes, but she never got a sense that he truly trusted her. It was frustrating, considering all the time and effort she’d put into this project.
See? It isn’t worth it. We need to leave, find one who suits us better.
Marla chuckled dryly, for once agreeing with her inner wolf. She really didn’t wanted to marry the old man, but he was in line to receive a considerable sum of money and some sacrifices were to be expected if she was to get her hands on the main prize. However, she hadn’t expected the sacrifices to be quite so...mundane.
When she’d first begun working for Aldrich, he’d been in the hospital and dependent on her to carry out his wishes. It had seemed a perfect opportunity to worm herself into his life, and she’d succeeded to some extent. In the beginning, he’d relied heavily on her, but lately the plan was losing its momentum.
She frowned, wondering what she was doing wrong, then smoothed her forehead so as to not cause any wrinkles. A wrinkled brow wouldn’t help her win over Aldrich or any other man for that matter.
A knock on the door had her looking up and a middle aged woman popped her head in, smiling cheerfully. “Marla, I’m just making a pot of tea, if you’d care to have some.”
“Thank you, Sylvia, but you can start without me. I need to clear my desk first.” Marla returned the smile, and Aldrich’s nurse left with a nod and a wave. As soon as the woman was out of sight, the pleasant expression fell from her face.
Annoying old cow. The nurse was unfailingly friendly and appeared happy to go about her job of caring for Aldrich’s tracheotomy, claiming how lucky she was to have landed such an easy, yet satisfying job. Marla shuddered wondering how suctioning mucus could be viewed as satisfying. The woman’s affable presence was grating on the nerves, though Aldrich actually seemed to like the old biddy. They even called each other by their first names.
Marla tightened her lips as she recalled that not once in the three years she’d worked for him, had Aldrich ever called her Marla. She was still Miss Matthews’ to his ‘Mr. Aldrich.’ In fact, the few times she’d tried to use his name and called him ‘Leon’ he stared at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.
Briefly, she wondered if Sylvia could be a rival for the man’s affections, but the idea seemed too preposterous to even consider. The woman was actually dowdy whereas she, with her werewolf metabolism, had the luxury of always looking sleek and fit. Plus, she aged more slowly, so sags and wrinkles were still years in her future. Sylvia had crow’s feet by her eyes, an overly round figure, and grey at her temples. Marla grinned; the other woman’s short comings made her feel quite happy suddenly.
She bent over her desk intent on getting the menial tasks done as quickly as possible, only to look up sharply when the sound of raspy laughter drifted down the hallway. Tuning in her acute hearing, she heard her employer joking with the nurse. Marla’s fingers tightened on her pen until the plastic casing cracked. Laughter was not a good sign; not good at all. Leon Aldrich never laughed. The man didn’t even know the meaning of the word humour and yet...
He is interested in the woman. She is for him in a way we never will be.
Compressing her mouth into a straight line, Marla fumed in her small stale office. Despite all logical arguments to the contrary, Nurse Robinson was somehow getting under Aldrich’s guard. And if Aldrich let the woman in, she could very well ruin all of Marla’s plans to get her hands on the money from the Greyson estate.
Tapping the desk with the broken pen, she narrowed her eyes, annoyed that this new obstacle had popped up. Well, there was only one way to deal with a situation such as this.
Leave? Give up this ridiculous plan? The wolf perked up, its spirit soaring at the possibility.
No. Sylvia Robinson would have to go. Hopefully, she’d be as easy to get rid of as the other nurses had been. If not... Marla curled her lips. There were ways to make even the most unwillingly person leave.
*****
Mel paced across the room, her arms wrapped around her waist as if she could ward off the trouble headed her way. Nervously, she nibbled her lower lip, not sure what to do or who to turn to. The email she’d just printed was clutched in her hand, the only remaining evidence of the message she’d received. She’d double checked the computer to ensure it was truly deleted from memory, even dumping the recycle bin and checking the temp files.
In other circumstances, she might have found her actions a humorous re-enactment of Ryne’s some three years ago. At the time, they’d just
met and he’d been suspicious of her motives. When she accidentally downloaded pictures from his camera onto her computer, he’d been furious at her invasion of his privacy. He’d deleted the file, but neglected to dump the recycle bin, a fact that she’d hesitated to use until circumstances forced her hand. She’d ended up using the supposedly erased photos to create a report on him for her employer, Anthony Greyson. That report had unwittingly precipitating a series of life-changing events.
In the end, her snooping in the recycle bin had led to a greater good, or at least that’s what she liked to think. If she hadn’t found the pictures Ryne had deleted, he might not have felt compelled to track her down and he wouldn’t have been there to rescue her from the evil clutches of Leon Aldrich. Ryne argued otherwise, but that was her version of the story and she was sticking to it.
A faint smile crossed her mouth at the memory of how the whole episode had ended; her real heritage being revealed, she and Ryne becoming mates... The smile faded quickly from her face. If only she’d known then what she knew now. This past week, she’d felt as if her happy world was being ripped apart. Her fingers clenched into fists causing the note in her hand to crinkle. She read the message again and a wave of nausea washed over her. Rushing down the hall, she made it to the bathroom just in time before starting to heave.
Once the ghastly experience was over, she splashed cold water on her face then leaned against the cool tiled wall and sniffled sadly. Her life had been going so well. The pack was her new extended family, Ryne her loving mate and now a baby... Why did this have to happen? She poked the note that had fallen on the floor with her toe.
A knock on the door, had her lifting her head.
“Mel? Are you all right?” It was Olivia, Marco’s mate.
“Just a minute.” She picked the note up and shoved it in her pocket before opening the door.
The Finding Page 16
