by Karen Kelley
“But you’re not positive.”
God, she was so confused. Jennifer had questioned her like the Spanish Inquisition, Surlock was giving her the third degree, and now she wasn’t exactly sure what she had seen.
“I thought I saw you turn into a werewolf. At least, a wolf.” She closed her eyes and thought back. Surlock had had the same eyes as the wolf. But had she seen hair? The grass had been thick and the clouds had drifted in front of the moon so it might have given the impression of hair. She let out a deep breath. “I don’t know, but you screamed at me to run. Then I heard the howl of a wolf.”
“And you thought I had changed into this monster.”
She nodded.
“Yet today, you came looking for me anyway.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
She jumped from her seat. “Because I care about you.” She twined her fingers together, unable to look him in the eye. She knew he liked her, and making love was pretty fantastic, but she was afraid her liking him was turning into a lot more.
His arms went around her. She leaned back against his chest, drawing comfort from his nearness.
“Do you think we’re monsters?” he asked. “Werewolves that howl at the moon.”
“I don’t know. Everything just seems so jumbled up in my head.”
The door to the media room suddenly opened and Jennifer and Peter walked in.
“Oh, you’re back,” Jennifer said, when she saw Surlock. She looked at the screen. “What were you watching?”
“A movie about werewolves,” Surlock said.
Jennifer snickered. Peter shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable.
Darcy just wanted to crawl under one of the chairs.
CHAPTER 18
“I forgot to tell you that Darcy thought Surlock was a werewolf,” Jennifer said.
“Jennifer!” Darcy glared at her friend.
Surlock watched as Darcy grew more and more uncomfortable. Her gaze darted around the room as though she was looking for the nearest escape route.
“We’re all friends. It’s no biggie.” Jennifer looked at each of them. “Okay, sorry I spilled the beans, but I still think you were joking.”
“She was,” Surlock said, then squeezed Darcy’s shoulder. “We had an argument last night and I’m afraid I stormed off. I think she was embarrassed to tell you the truth.” He felt Darcy’s sigh of relief.
“I knew it!” Jennifer wore a knowing smile. Then just as suddenly as it appeared, her smile changed to a grimace. “You could’ve told me the truth.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Darcy said, then cleared her throat. “Uh, what are you two doing here?”
“We needed more input. You know, for the party,” Peter explained, eyeing Surlock warily. “Jennifer said she thought Surlock had left for good, and we figured you might be lonely.”
Surlock had a feeling Peter had hoped to pick up where he’d left off the other night at the restaurant. Well, that wouldn’t be happening. After Surlock had talked to Peter in the limousine, Peter had sworn he was only Darcy’s friend.
Surlock wanted to hate him, but he knew Darcy could never be romantically interested in a guy like Peter. He had no courage. His wealth had made him soft, and he acted superior to everyone else. Surlock would keep a watchful eye on him.
“Why don’t we go downstairs and put our heads together? See what we can come up with.” Darcy didn’t wait for them to follow. Instead, she grabbed Surlock’s hand and pulled him along with her, whispering her thanks that he had saved her from the werewolf story as they hurried down the stairs.
He was glad he could help. It should make him feel better, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the movie they’d watched. He’d convinced Darcy that he wasn’t like the monster on the screen—the werewolf—but he wasn’t so sure. Something had taken over his mind and body. But what?
Once they were downstairs, Darcy took them to a room with places to sit. He stopped at the entryway and looked around. It was familiar, reminding him of another room, except with stone walls, and a fireplace so large he could walk inside and stand. On cold days there would be a roaring fire, the flames crackling and spitting, embers shooting up the chimney.
The vision was so clear he could see a man sitting on one of the chairs, laughing at something another man had said. He had a feeling they were his brothers. He clamped his lips together to keep from calling out to people he knew weren’t really there. He could only stand in silence as he drank in the sight of them, searching for something familiar. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them.
A jaguar sauntered into the room. Surlock held his breath, but the cat didn’t attack. She went to one of the men, rubbing her head against his leg. The man only laughed and leaned down to scratch the cat behind the ear.
“Come, sit beside me, Surlock,” Darcy said, patting the seat beside her.
Surlock looked around. Gone were the stone walls, his brothers, and the jaguar. He drew in a deep breath. The humming in his head was faint.
“You okay?” Darcy asked.
Jennifer and Peter looked at him as they took their seats.
“I’m fine. It’s a nice room.”
“We like it.” Darcy continued to study him.
He smiled and went to sit beside her. What had just happened? The jaguar must be a pet. But somehow, he didn’t think so. He thought it was more than that. Nothing clicked.
He would rather be alone with Darcy so he could talk to her about this new vision. He wished Peter and Jennifer hadn’t come over. Not that he disliked Jennifer, although he didn’t think she trusted him. He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know anything about him, and every time Jennifer asked him a question, Darcy would interrupt so Surlock never had to really explain anything.
“Of course, I’ve already sent out invitations to everyone I know. So far it will be a small crowd. Around two hundred,” Peter said. “And I have the catering service. I actually have them on retainer. I’m just at a loss as to what sort of theme I should do, and I’m running out of time.”
Surlock watched each one of them closely. It would seem the lack of a party theme was extremely important, although he couldn’t understand why. Jennifer kept shaking her head whenever Peter suggested something, which made Peter quite agitated.
“The party is this Saturday, Jennifer, and you’ve shot down every idea I’ve had. I have to have some kind of decorations. It’s a masquerade party, but I need something cohesive that will pull it altogether,” Peter said. He was frowning when he turned toward Darcy. “And you’ve been absolutely no help, Darcy.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
One of the maids came into the room. “There’s an Annette Barrymore to see you, Miss Darcy.”
“Show her in,” Darcy told her.
Peter sat a little straighter. “What’s she doing here? I didn’t invite her.” He smoothed his hand over his hair and straightened his jacket.
“I called her before we left your house. I thought she might be able to help. Fresh ideas, and all,” Jennifer told him. “Besides, I like her.”
“Hi, everyone,” Annette said as she came into the room, then stumbled to a stop when she saw Peter. Her face turned a bright red. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here, Peter.”
“Have a seat. We’re having a terrible time trying to figure out the decorations for Peter’s party,” Jennifer said. She cast a look at Peter that had him shutting his mouth without saying a word. “I’m bringing her to the party as my friend. I knew you wouldn’t object, Peter.”
“Whatever.” He waved his arm in the air. But his gaze kept straying to Annette.
Annette slunk over to the nearest chair and sat down. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.” She hugged the small chair pillow as if it were a shield that might protect her from Peter’s sharp words.
“Exactly,” Peter said, then looked at Jennifer as if she’d lost her mind inviting Annette.
“We’re gl
ad you’re here,” Darcy stated firmly. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. What do you think of when I say masquerade ball?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Of course not,” Peter said. “I mean, how many masked balls have you attended?”
Annette threw the pillow at Peter. He didn’t move fast enough and it hit him square in the face with a thunk. “I haven’t been to any masked balls, Peter, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain.” She glared at him.
“I didn’t say you had no brain,” he huffed.
“You might as well have. Just because you have lots of money, you think you’re better than me, but you’re not, so cut the crap.”
Surlock didn’t try to stop his laughter. He wanted to applaud because Annette had stood up for herself.
“Bravo,” Jennifer said.
The exchange was interesting. Rather than look affronted by Annette’s outburst, Peter seemed quite pleased.
“Touché,” Peter said. “I apologize for my rudeness.”
“Apology accepted,” she said, raising her chin.
Ahh, so Darcy had been correct when she’d said Peter was interested in Annette. He’d forgotten what else she’d told him. Something about Peter never being given the chance to think for himself, and that his parents expected him to join with the right woman. Surlock was starting to like Annette, and couldn’t understand why she would not make Peter a suitable mate.
“Do you have an idea for the theme of the party?” Peter asked Annette.
“Well,” she began, her confidence slipping just a fraction. “When I think of masked balls, I think of Mardi Gras. You know, like they have in New Orleans with parades.”
“Well done,” Darcy said. “That’s a brilliant idea. You could even have a king and queen.”
“Ohhh—” Jennifer sat forward. “You could give out beads at the door. What fun.”
Everyone looked at Peter, who hadn’t said a word. He looked at each of them, but his gaze stopped and stayed on Annette. Then he smiled. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, but can we pull it off by this Saturday?”
“Of course, I can,” Jennifer said. “I can do anything.”
Peter clapped his hands, and came to his feet. “We have a ton of work to do before Saturday, so back to my house to make all the arrangements.” When Annette didn’t move, Peter held out his hand. “You’ll come as well, won’t you?”
“You don’t need me,” she said, blushing.
Peter studied her. “I think I do. I think I need you more than I ever could have imagined.”
She shyly took his hand and rose to her feet.
“Every king needs a queen, and of course, since it was your idea, you’ll be my queen.”
“I couldn’t.” She looked at everyone.
“Yes, you can.” Jennifer laughed. “You might even make Peter look good.”
“That was not funny.” Peter frowned.
“Actually, it was,” Darcy said as she stood.
“You’re ganging up on me, too, are you? Not fair.”
Darcy chuckled. “You’ll have one less female causing problems. I think Surlock and I will hang out here. I have some work to do for him.”
Peter’s face fell. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “But we’ll visit later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Surlock stepped closer to Darcy. “We’ll both see you later.” So what if Peter was interested in Annette. Surlock wanted to make sure Peter understood Darcy was not available.
After they left, Darcy turned to him. “And what exactly was that last remark supposed to mean?”
He looked at her with all the innocence he could muster. “What remark?”
“You know exactly what I mean—‘we’ll both see you later.’”
“Just that I don’t trust him alone with you,” he said casually enough, holding back what he really felt.
“Peter is only a friend.”
“You think so, but I’m still not convinced he believes that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, men can be so hardheaded.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t see how taken Peter was with Annette?”
He snorted. “I’ll withhold my judgment for now. I know what we saw, but he held back his feelings.”
She shook her head. “He’s been brought up to believe he’s better than everyone else. His parents wouldn’t approve of Annette, so Peter is fighting his attraction to her.”
“So you told me. I like Annette. Why wouldn’t his parents?”
“She doesn’t come from money. Peter’s family can be traced back for hundreds of years. They originally came from England. His father has a duke in his ancestral lineage.”
“A duke is important?”
She grinned. “It is to Peter’s parents. They think they’re royalty sometimes. No, they wouldn’t approve of Peter dating someone they thought was a lower-class citizen.”
“And your parents, would they disapprove of you dating someone like me? I have no background. What if I’m just a common man?”
Her eyelids lowered as she pressed close to him, her arms going around his neck. “You may be the poorest man on earth, but you’ll never be common.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, nuzzling the side of her neck, then moving his lips to hers. He kissed her, reveling in her taste, absorbing her essence.
She rested her head against his chest when the kiss ended. Her breathing was ragged. The kiss had affected her as much as it had him. He wanted her. He wanted to remove each article of her clothing and mate with her.
Only one thing stopped him. He knew when he lost control, whatever was inside him took over. He couldn’t afford to lose control again. What if he was a monster? Would he harm Darcy? He couldn’t take that chance. He moved out of her arms.
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered.
He looked at her, glad he’d put some distance between them because it was difficult to resist her when she looked at him like that. He sucked in a deep breath and braced himself to fight the attraction.
“Until I know what happens to me when we mate, I think we should step away from an intimate relationship.” He could see the struggle going on inside her.
“Okay, fine,” she finally said. “I don’t like it, though.”
“But I’m right.”
She raised her arms, then let them fall back to her sides. “Yes, you’re right. I know that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I don’t like it, either.”
“Then we need to find out exactly who you are. We at least have a last name—Prince.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s better than nothing. And we know the place you come from is called New Symtaria and not just Symtaria. Let’s check on the computer and see what we can find.”
He only hoped this time they would be successful. No matter what his good intentions were, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep his promise not to mate with her. Darcy was too tempting. He should have led the way to the computer. It wasn’t helping that he couldn’t take his eyes off the gentle sway of her hips.
Darcy sat down at the computer and he breathed a sigh of relief as she typed “Surlock Prince” into the search engine, then scrolled down page after page. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
“There’s nothing listed,” he said.
“Which doesn’t mean a lot. It only means you haven’t done anything that would get you on the Internet. Obviously, you don’t have a webpage.”
He had no idea what she spoke about. Webpage? Again, everything seemed so unfamiliar.
“There’s nothing here,” she muttered, clicking on one site.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s that?” He pointed toward a stone structure.
She looked at it. “The castle?” She touched her finger to the screen to make sure that’s what he was talking about.
“Yes, the castle. It loo
ks familiar.”
She slowly turned in her seat and stared at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.
“What?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “I think we need to change the order of your name. It’s not Surlock Prince. I have a feeling it’s Prince Surlock.”
CHAPTER 19
Excoria yawned as she leaned against a tree and stared at the house. It was a beautiful home, very majestic. She bet it was cool inside. She hated this land, especially this place called Texas, where it was cool one day, then burning hot the next.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten today. Damn Nivla for not giving her money. He’d only been more cruel because she’d almost gotten sick on him, which was his fault, too. If she didn’t eat something soon, she wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Prince Surlock.
That was another thing she had a problem with. Nivla had told his son, Ekon, to oversee Excoria and make sure Prince Surlock didn’t escape before they had a chance to capture him.
And where was Ekon?
Excoria knew. He was back at the warehouse sleeping. His father had made sure his son had a nice comfortable bed in which to lay his head while she still had the lumpy cot. He also had money and food. It wasn’t fair.
Besides, she loathed Ekon. He wasn’t hard to look upon, not like his fat father, but in a few years time she had no doubt he would be just as slovenly. A shudder of distaste ran through her.
She straightened when a man came around the corner. He carried a brown sack in one hand and a tool in the other. The breeze carried the aroma of what was in the sack over to her. Her mouth watered. It didn’t smell at all like the burrito, which had been pretty awful.
The man set the brown paper bag on a metal table and leaned the long wooden handle of the instrument against the chair opposite the one he sat in. Then he opened the bag.
Excoria gritted her teeth as she tried to hold back a moan.
“Hey, Ralph, Ms. Abernathy wants you to look at her sink. It’s leaking.”
The man frowned, then closed the bag as he stood up. “She’ll owe me another one of her peach-fried pies for this.” He walked off, leaving the bag on the table.
