by Terry Spear
As he loped around the perimeter of the villa, he only thought to show Sal that Shelley was his—as well as the villa, the territory surrounding it, and even the beach and the sea that caressed it. That any wolf who crossed that line was in serious trouble. Wolves killed other wolves that were not of their pack and invaded their territory. The need to do so was just as strong with a werewolf who was protecting his own.
Instinctively, the wolf half of him had to do his bit to ensure Sal knew it beyond a doubt. Sal hadn’t done so around his own property, which had surprised Duncan. He wondered if that was because Sal didn’t often release the wolf side of his nature. Or maybe Sal didn’t feel the right to claim territorial possession because the money that had undoubtedly paid for it all wasn’t his. Or maybe Sal just didn’t feel he needed to prove anything to anyone.
Duncan left a few calling cards around Sal’s estate also. With a smile.
After all, with all the money Sal had stolen, this could very well have been Duncan’s pack’s estate. Marking it as his own enforced the claim that it was theirs, not Sal’s.
What Duncan hadn’t expected when he returned to the villa—with his she-wolf sleeping soundly inside—was to discover two men snooping around the perimeter.
Two men who were wolves.
Chapter 14
As soon as Duncan smelled the two male wolves in human form near the villa, the fur on the nape of his neck stood on end. Truth be told, his whole wolf coat fluffed with aggression, making him appear even larger than he was.
If the men had seen him, they would have known he was a hair’s breadth short of attacking them. However, he was afraid that as soon as he attacked, his growling and snapping jaws and their frantic cries would awaken Shelley. He didn’t doubt she’d come out to help him. Somehow, he needed to draw them away from the villa before he showed them what he was made of.
They had to smell his scent markings and realize he was damned serious that any wolf in the vicinity should know to keep his distance. These men probably assumed that Duncan was snuggled in bed with the she-wolf, not standing out here in the dark and sensing them while they observed the villa.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” the first man groused. “I know you said he’s got to be inside with her, but, hell, I swear he’s just remarked the area with his scent, as fresh as it smells. If that’s so, he might very well be out here still… with us.”
The other man didn’t say anything, just crept toward the house, his eyes glued on the villa. Either he wasn’t afraid of meeting Duncan out here, so he wasn’t looking out for him, or he was like Sal might also be, not used to being a wolf. That would make him more wary and cautious, constantly on the alert when faced with the danger of a wolf fight. The other man’s head kept swiveling around like an owl’s, peering into the darkness and watching for any signs of Duncan.
Two male wolves to one were not good odds in wolf-to-wolf combat. In his wolf form, Duncan could handle a couple of humans, but only if neither was armed with knives or guns. He could manage one of these wolves before the other responded, though.
Still, he waited, listening, anticipating their next move and trying to determine what they were about. If they thought he and Shelley were in bed together, what did they hope to accomplish?
They came into view around a stand of palms, both men slightly bent in a crouch to be inconspicuous. Were they armed?
Both wore black jeans and black boots, but one had on a button-down, charcoal gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, while the other had a crinkled black polo. Neither looked to be carrying a gun, but they could easily be sporting knives. They were muscular, tall, and looking for trouble.
“Wait,” the talkative one said, the one in the polo shirt. He was dark haired, yellow eyed, and wearing a two-day growth of beard, with a long, hard jaw. He had a swagger to his step, like he owned the world, as if the other man’s silence and steady approach toward the house assured him that they’d run into no trouble.
They must not have dealt with a Highland wolf before.
Big Talker suddenly stopped, lifted his nose, and took in a deep breath. “We’re just supposed to scout the area. We don’t need to get any closer to the house. Not right now.” So a case of nerves was finally melting his steel exterior.
Again, Duncan wondered what the hell the two planned on doing.
The other man paused, his dirty blond hair streaked with red highlights, his chin smooth and stubby, his gray eyes narrowed as he studied the house. They were still a good three hundred yards from the back porch. The waves crashed along the beach, the wind flapping the palm fronds about, particles of sand shifting, a bank of clouds obscuring the moon as the two men remained half-hidden in the stand of palms.
Duncan hadn’t seen either of these men before. He thought they must have arrived at the island today or been in hiding all this time. But he suspected the former was true. Sal must have figured that since he couldn’t persuade Duncan to leave Shelley for a small amount of money, maybe some wolf muscle would do the trick. Sal didn’t have the strength to fight Duncan on his own.
The dirty blond took another step toward the house. “I don’t want to wait. We don’t get paid if we don’t take care of business. The sooner we take care of this, the sooner we’re outta here.”
Duncan let out a very low threatening growl, warning them not to get any closer. The natural instinct erupted before he could even think further of the consequences. He wasn’t worried about the villa or the territory around it. Shelley being inside the house concerned him the most. Big Talker stood rooted to the ground as if he’d become one of the palm trees he was standing between. The dirty blond twisted his head in the direction he heard the ferocious growl come from. Both men’s eyes were wide as they tried to see Duncan in the dark.
Neither man said a word. Neither moved an inch.
This was when they’d pull weapons—if they had them—and stand and fight. Or begin yanking off clothes to shift into the wolf with the same intent, only planning to fight wolf to wolf. Or back away slowly so to not further antagonize one pissed-off wolf, which was the only way they would get out of here alive.
Duncan needed to wait and see how each of them reacted. For now, the two men couldn’t see Duncan; they could only hear another rumble of menacing ferocity slip between his bared teeth.
He was concentrating so hard on the men’s reactions, although he seemed to have turned them to stone, that he didn’t at first notice the smell of her—Shelley—somewhere in the direction of the men.
He stood up straighter, frowning, smelling the air. The men slowly turned, realizing that she was behind them and they could smell her scent. They didn’t move quickly, maybe concerned she might take anyone’s sudden movement as a threat to her well-being. Duncan’s heart instantly leapt with distress as he realized she was behind the men, meaning they were between him and his mate.
Damn it to hell. He didn’t want her out here in any danger.
The men had to be concerned, even though she was a smaller female. She still had one hell of a mouthful of sharp teeth if they tested her strength or willingness to attack—and they were still in human form.
She quickly let Duncan know she was with him—part of his team, so to speak, and not there needing his protection. Her deep growl pierced the sounds of paradise, of the breeze tossing palm fronds and the waves beating and sliding over the beach, of the shuffle of sand. Her growl was a discordant sound like his had been. It didn’t belong in the idyllic islands, a predator’s threat that had to have rarely been heard here, if ever.
She growled again at them, as if her first wolfish statement hadn’t had the right impact, warning them to disappear or else. She wanted to be taken seriously. Duncan knew beyond a doubt that she intended to attack if they made any move to harm him. But he didn’t want her anywhere near them.
“Shit,” Big Talker said, half looking over his shoulder in the direction of the she-wolf’s growl and unable to see her, jus
t like Duncan couldn’t. The men had to recognize her voice was not as deep as a male’s. That she was half the threat that Duncan was.
She was playing it safe, though, keeping out of view. Duncan was damned grateful for that.
The other man turned his attention back in the direction of Duncan, the bigger threat.
“Shift,” the man said under his breath, undoubtedly figuring Big Talker could hear him while Duncan was too far away to make out the whispered word. Or maybe thinking Duncan would mistakenly believe he cursed instead of giving the order to shape-shift.
Duncan knew Shelley would fight them. He just didn’t want her getting hurt.
He lunged for the man who had taken charge of the situation and knocked him to the ground, growling and threatening to rip him to shreds.
The other man tore off toward the road where Duncan suspected they’d parked a vehicle. Shelley didn’t take chase, for which he was glad. Instead, she moved in closer to the remaining man, watching Duncan as he bit at the man’s hands, his teeth exposed for a killing blow. The man was trying to keep Duncan from reaching his throat while grabbing for Duncan’s muzzle. Duncan was considering his options as he snarled and snapped and cut the man’s hands with his sharp teeth. Kill him, maim him, let the bastard go.
The bastard held up one arm to block Duncan’s teeth. With his free hand, he slipped a dagger from beneath his shirt.
Knowing the man was armed, Duncan was certain that if he let him go instead of killing him, he would come back to murder Duncan and take Shelley against her will.
It didn’t matter that the man hadn’t had time to shift. He’d intended to murder Duncan, and if Duncan had given the two men a chance to shift, Shelley would have gotten into the battle and could have been seriously hurt. He made the decision, the correct one as far as a werewolf’s thinking went, and bit into the man’s hand, gripping the knife to neutralize the threat to himself. The man screamed in pain. Duncan lunged for his throat one last time, severing the spinal column in a killing blow.
He wished he hadn’t had to do so in front of Shelley. He suspected she hadn’t ever seen a wolf kill a man before. Or at least he assumed she hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this, in such a black mood with only one thought in mind—to kill before being killed.
He glanced up at her. Shelley looked in the direction of a car engine rumbling. Duncan sidled up to her, nuzzling her to come with him. He wanted her in the house before he made his next move. This time she was not leaving the villa if he had any say about it.
Proud of Duncan for taking care of the threat but unable to clear her head of the image of him killing the wolf-man, Shelley locked the villa, per Duncan’s instructions after he made her go back inside. She had wanted to come with him, but he’d refused. What if the other man returned, and she was alone? But in truth she was part of this and didn’t want to be left out. She needed to stand by him, no matter what happened. She needed to be with him in wolf form and help if he needed her.
Her argument fell on deaf ears.
After Duncan had shifted, cleaned up, and dressed, and she was locked inside, he left her alone in the villa.
She’d watched him through the back patio’s glass doors until he’d disappeared from sight, headed in the direction of the dead man. She expected to hear the rental car engine start after several minutes and that he’d take the body away to some other location. The car never moved from the driveway. She was left wondering what Duncan had done with the dead man. Hauled him into the ocean? Swam out with him into the surf? Fed him to the sharks?
If Duncan had, they’d better not swim in that part of the ocean again. She couldn’t help worrying about his safety if he did swim out into deeper water with the bloodied man, potentially drawing sharks into the area.
She wasn’t sorry for the man. She’d known as soon as he whispered to his partner in crime to shift that they intended to fight and kill Duncan. He was only one wolf against two. Not that she wouldn’t have done her part, but she would have been at as disadvantage against the bigger males. The man had been armed with a knife, and even though werewolves had faster healing capabilities than humans, she knew that if he had cut Duncan in a lethal place, he could still have died.
She knew that’s why Duncan hadn’t hesitated to attack the man who appeared to be in charge and that he’d worried if he didn’t survive, she’d be left on her own. His mate.
She was glad the other took off running like a scaredy-cat. Unless he got more backup, she really didn’t expect he’d return anytime soon. But what if he ran to Sal and the two of them came back seeking revenge?
She knew that Duncan had to have taken the wolf-man’s body somewhere, but not where. Shivering as the adrenaline spiking her body and readying it for a fight began to drain from her bloodstream, she waited and paced, anxious that Duncan was taking way too long to return to her. A million scenarios raced through her mind. The police would catch him carrying a dead body over his shoulder. Sal’s other wolf would have changed into his wolf form and caught up to Duncan to avenge his buddy. Sal himself and the other remaining wolf would gang up on Duncan. What if there were more than just the two?
She so wished Duncan had allowed her to watch his back. They were in this together, as far as she was concerned. But the warrior in him insisted that he take all the risk, damn it.
Nearly an hour later, Duncan materialized out of the dark, stalking toward the villa, his face grim with a warrior’s stern expression, a battle obviously fought and only partially won. It would only be done when his clan’s money had been returned.
She opened the door for Duncan, and before she could do anything or say anything, he locked the door, seized her hand, and hauled her back to the bedroom. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he said, leaving her next to the bed. He looked displeased, but she didn’t think it was with her. Unless he was pissed off that she had approached the men in her wolf form from behind and growled. Yeah, she imagined that he planned to take her to task for that.
She wouldn’t have done anything differently. She had been staying downwind from Duncan the whole time he’d been scent-marking their territory around the villa—and even around Sal’s as a heightened threat to let the man know Duncan was serious about Shelley being his. She had added her own special scent to ensure that everyone knew they were a pair. Duncan wouldn’t have been aware of it. When he went wherever he did to dispose of the dead man, Duncan would discover what she’d done.
Maybe that’s what he was pissed off about it. She wouldn’t have reacted in any other way.
She hadn’t believed Sal would send some wolf muscle their way.
Without another word, Duncan went inside the bathroom and shut the door, the shower coming on again. Not to wash away the blood, though. He had already done that in the ocean, and his clothes were salty and wet from the sea. Now he was removing the salt and sand from his skin and hair and clothes.
She wanted to wait for him before she undressed and crawled into bed, wanting to hear what had happened. She figured he needed to think about what had occurred and what he thought best to do next without talking it over with her first. So she did what she thought best. Took off her clothes and returned to bed and waited for him to join her.
He soon left the bathroom but he didn’t join her right away. With a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin glistening with water droplets, he said in a low, reassuring voice, “I’ll join you in just a few minutes, Shelley. Sleep. I won’t be long.”
He lifted his phone from his pants and stalked out of the room. She knew then he was calling his brother to tell him the news.
That meant she wasn’t part of the package when it came to dealing with the bad guys. In his estimation, she was only the maiden in distress. Annoyed to the max, she harrumphed at that and decided she wasn’t about to wait for him to join her in bed. She was going to go to sleep, damn it, and pretend she didn’t care what he’d done.
Closing her eyes didn’t shut her brain
down. Not until he climbed into bed with her and pulled her against his hot, hard body—and knowing tomorrow would bring all kinds of new trouble—did she finally fall asleep.
***
Early the next morning, Duncan seemed to be in deep thought, his expression dark as he went about preparing breakfast before he got a call from Ian. Was his brother telling him Cearnach’s arrival time that night? Duncan and Shelley hadn’t made love since the previous night, not that she hadn’t been in the mood, but Duncan seemed so absorbed in what had happened that she didn’t feel he was interested.
He hadn’t talked to her about the men last night. She didn’t bother broaching the subject because she figured she’d get a lecture. If he even thought about lecturing her, they were going to get into a fight.
Shelley’s phone began ringing, and she hurried to get it. Good thing they had both turned off their phones last night, or she was sure she would have been awakened way too early. When she answered the phone and saw it was Wendy, Shelley was not happy. “Wendy, did you call my mother and tell her I was rooming with a wolf?”
“I didn’t mean to tell her anything, but she was upset about the grant money. You know, heard all about it on the news. She knew you couldn’t afford the cost of the villa on your own. I had to explain that you were okay, but not… exactly alone. I told her you had a roommate, and he was helping to pay for half of the cost. I didn’t mean to tell her he was a he. But you know how she is. She started grilling me. She told your Uncle Ethan. He started in on me, trying to learn all the details. Somehow I let it slip that your roommate was a wolf. From Scotland.”
Shelley glanced at Duncan, expecting him to be doing anything else but watching her. She was wrong. He was observing her expression like a wolf would, watching closely and looking for signs of trouble.
