“What happened?” she asked, pressing her palm to her forehead.
All I knew was that she’d passed out and I wasn’t going to leave her lying out on the pavement. “I—”
Before I could get my sentence out, she leapt off the lounge chair. “You!”
“Well, who did you think it was? You’re the one who fainted and nearly fell to the ground in front of me.”
I stood up, hoping to hell she didn’t blast me again with her witchcraft. Any sane wolf would have gotten the hell out of Dodge after being threatened by a witch’s magic. I was more convinced now than ever before that I was a fool. All because my wolf wanted to lay claim to her. The human part of me wanted to know why, but the wolf just wanted to claim. All of this was confusing the heck out of me. Had she cast a spell on me the other night?
“How did you get in here?” she asked, looking around.
“I brought you in here.” I pointed to the counter at the handbag and keys I’d brought inside. “I figured your gallery would be a safe place for you to wake up, instead of on the asphalt outside or in your car. You recovered mighty quickly.”
“It’s happened before.” Her breath came out in a rush. “I pass out when I try too hard.”
“When you try too hard…?”
“Look, you shouldn’t be here.” Her gaze flitted over my shoulder at the door as if she were nervous about someone coming in.
I took a good look at her. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. She wore her brown hair straightened. The ends swept the delicate skin just below her collarbone like a curtain. Most everything she wore was black, except for her necklace, which was a blue crystal point pendant, suspended from a gold cap on an aged brass chain. She had her nose pierced—a tiny, clear diamond. More jewelry adorned her ears and fingers, but nothing as striking as the crystal necklace. Under her body-length wool coat, she wore a fitted blouse and a short, denim skirt. Her leather boots were thigh-highs, leaving only an inch of flesh on her legs exposed to my gaze. Almost everything else about her was left to my imagination and I found it sexy.
She had looked breathtaking under the moonlight outside, even with her lethal powers. My wolf had seemed to possess a mind of his own when he propelled me to pursue her. Maybe if she were a wolf, she’d understand my urges. But she wasn’t a wolf, she was a witch. She certainly wasn’t easy like other women. If I wanted to get anything out of her, I’d have to put forth more of an effort.
I wanted to bridge the distance between us and touch her so badly it hurt. If it were any other woman, I probably would have already had her beneath me in my bed.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
Her features softened a bit. Her lips parting for a brief second before she pressed them together again.
“My name is Dawson and I’m a wolf,” I said. As I said those words, I knew it marked the moment that my life would change.
She pursed her lips. “I knew that.”
“You knew my name already?”
“No. I knew you were a wolf from the moment you approached me. You didn’t have to confirm anything,” she replied.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest. I’ll know if you’re lying,” I told her.
She smiled and her whole face lit up. “Really? Do you think I care if you know that I’m lying?”
I bit at my bottom lip, contemplating a comeback. I was at a slight disadvantage. My wolf and I shared certain abilities, but nothing as deep as the magic she possessed. So, she already held something over me that I didn’t have. The ability to use her powers on something and someone other than herself.
“Go ahead and ask me anyway,” she said, eagerly.
“I think that someone sent you after me and this is all a front. That you’ve somehow used your…spells to lure me here.”
“Spells?” Her lips formed the perfect smirk as she tried to hide her giggle. “Go on. What’s your question?”
“If this is the end of the road for me, give a wolf a break and tell me. Are you trying to take my life or my spirit?”
“Neither.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “To be really really honest, besides the name you’ve given me, I don’t know who the heck you are.”
“What? Me being a wolf shifter named Dawson doesn’t fascinate you?”
“Dawson who?”
“Caedmon.”
“Right.” A flash of recognition crossed her features. She tilted her head slightly and her gaze roved slowly across my face. “Caedmon…”
“Does the family name ring a bell?” I asked.
“My first time seeing the name was above the crest on your door. So, I guess it’s true that you own that mansion.”
I nodded. “What were you doing there?”
She looked at me sheepishly. “I borrowed my friend’s invite.”
I made a mental note for tightened security at my parties, because, apparently, the guards were getting a little lax. Even though the oversight had allowed me to meet the woman who was possibly my fated mate, I couldn’t let the wrong people into our close-knit community. “And what were you looking for while you were there?”
She frowned. “I don’t know exactly.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Most people know what they are looking for before they start looking.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not most people. I’m not as privileged as you are.”
“Privileged? How do you know that I’m privileged?”
“I don’t. But at least you know what your problem is.”
“My problem?” Sure, I had a lot of problems, but I didn’t like naming them, and I certainly wasn’t keen on women identifying them.
“Yes. The fact that you’re a wolf with a man’s body.”
She feigned disgust with her tone and body language, but lucky for me, I was able to pick up on something more. Her eyes told a different story as she sized up my body from across the room. Women who were overly curious were usually easier to manipulate, but I wasn’t going to let this front fool me. She wasn’t just a woman. I had evidence that she was something more.
I grinned. “That’s not a problem, hon. At least, not for me.”
Her pretty brown eyes widened. “So you want to be the way you are?”
“I’m not ashamed of what I am. And neither should you be about what you are.”
“I just know that something’s very wrong with me. I’m not normal.” She sat down on the lounge chair, slouched, and wrung her hands together.
I crossed the distance then, forgetting about her powers and what she was capable of. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You said I was a witch. How do you know that?”
“Wolves of my lineage know these things,” I said, carefully. “And I know my history.”
Witches were considered a threat to the Caedmon wolves unless they had already pledged allegiance to the Pack. Considering the fact that I could have been lying dead on the pavement as a result of her blasting me with magic, I understood why most witches were labeled that way.
“Then maybe you can help me with my history. Help me find what I’m looking for, like you suggested earlier,” she said.
Finally, she caught my gaze, and mine remained locked with hers for what seemed like minutes.
“What’s your name?”
“Alessia.”
“Alessia.”
“Van der Hoeff,” She blushed and then pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth.
She dropped her chin, and I noted the thickness of her mascara-darkened lashes against her high cheekbones.
I moved closer, slid my fingertips against the underside of her chin and lifted her face gently so I could see her beauty again.
“I’ll do anything you ask if you promise not to kill me,” I told her.
Her smile was worth a thousand moons. There was no doubt that I had already succumbed to her lure. She was irresistible. She was mine.
If Alessia van der Hoeff were going to be the witch responsible for my demise, and maybe even my death, at least I would go down knowing that my mate existed.
Chapter Six
Alessia
After his touch had left me, I still experienced remnants of how he’d made me feel. Intent on not being seen as the woeful damsel, I rose from the lounge chair and walked to the other end of my art gallery. He’d left the locks unsecured so I bolted them shut and then closed the curtains.
“You’ve got a nice set up here,” Dawson said. He walked around, perusing and touching some of my paintings. “How long have you been doing this?”
“My dad told me that I began painting right before the fire. Most of my earlier works were lost, but he found a few pieces in a small suitcase in the trunk of my mom’s car. I’m blessed enough to be able to pursue something I’m so passionate about. I absolutely love painting and creating. Emotions, mine and others, drive my muse. Painting allows me to focus and meditate.”
“There was a fire here?”
“No, not here. My childhood home burned to the ground when I was five.”
“I’m sorry about that. You didn’t lose your talents, that’s for sure. Beautiful work.”
“Thank you. How’d you find me?”
“You told me you were an artist at my party. A small coincidence and a few clues led me here.”
I walked around my counter and pulled out two bottles of water from my mini refrigerator. I offered one to him. He accepted with a nod and unscrewed the cap.
My gaze dropped to his hands. I’d read in magazines that you could tell a lot about a man by his hands, but just like the confusion I’d experienced when identifying whether or not he was a good soul, his hands told the same contradicting story. They were calloused, but his nails had been recently manicured.
“Do you have parties all the time?” I asked him.
He took a long chug of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his thick neck as he guzzled. “I do.”
“I guess I didn’t stay long enough to experience the full swing of it.”
He smiled. “I can fix that for you. You’re looking at the party planner of the century. I do private parties, too. But just for you. I’ll entertain you. You’ll entertain me. We’ll have a good time.”
I withheld my amusement by pressing my lips together.
“What?” He lifted his arms away from his sides. “You don’t find me entertaining?”
I swallowed my laughter. His ego was huge; he was funny, and quite the charmer.
“Seriously. Throwing bomb-ass parties is one of the things I’m known for among my people,” he said.
His people? Of course, that meant there were more shifters like him. Wolf shifters had fascinated me from the time I’d discovered that I could identify one without them being in their true form. I wasn’t as shocked anymore when I stumbled upon one. They just existed…just like a host of other species. We were all trying to survive and co-exist in the same environment.
“Well, I don’t get out much. And sometimes people are strange to me.” There, I’d said it.
He arched an eyebrow. “People are strange? Do you mean that people not like you are strange?”
He’d read me like a book. “Me coming to that party was sort of my first step toward getting out despite my…differences.”
He looked at her sternly. “Then you’re a closeted witch.”
“Wow…okay…I’ve been called many names but never that.”
“I didn’t mean—”
I smiled. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. The answer is yes. I like being alone. With my work…right here. Mostly here, but in nature, too. The majority of my inspiration comes from being outside. My energy comes to me that way, too.”
He paused for a second, and I suddenly recalled how I had threatened to kill him only moments earlier.
“Look, I’m not going to kill you,” I said. “You just have to promise you won’t tell people about this. It’s what my dad is afraid of. He thinks some doctor or something is going to cart me off because of what I can do. I’m trying to find others like me. Hopefully, before my birthday, which is right around the corner.”
“How old will you be?” he asked.
“Twenty-five.”
“Got any plans?”
I shrugged. “To become a millionaire,” I told him before I could stop myself.
This time, he laughed.
“No, seriously.” I mocked him, holding my arms away from my sides. “What? You don’t think I can become a millionaire in just eight days?”
He looked around at my paintings. “It’s quite possible. I can tell that you put a lot of time and effort into your work.”
“Well, I do have a lot of time on my hands.”
“Where’d you go to college?” he asked, joining me at the counter and leaning on it.
I took a long sip of my water, a little uncomfortable now that the conversation had shifted directly to me. “I didn’t.”
By the look he gave me, I was sure that he was a little surprised by my answer.
“I’m not the stereotypical woman, as you can see,” I added. “I was homeschooled virtually all my life. After getting my diploma, I was already making enough money on my paintings to know what I wanted to do with my life to be content. Most of the classes I took were completed online through community colleges to help me learn how to run my business.”
“You have lots of ambition, then. That’s amazing,” he said. “If you’re anywhere near that million dollars, you’re clearly on your way to a successful future.”
“Thank you, but the money has never made me happy.”
“Your natural talents can never be learned in a textbook, and you’ll always have those no matter what you do in life. That’s something to be happy about,” he said.
“I guess so. What about you?” I asked. “Did you go to college?”
“Yeah. I started out at the local state college when I was sixteen and then moved to an Ivy League and earned my Ph.D. in Law just last year. I still consider it my alma mater. The current Dean of Students and I are pretty cool. We go out for beers every once in a while,” he said. “But when I’m not conducting business, I’m known as a troublemaker because I question things. And contrary to popular belief, I don’t trust others freely anymore. Which is partly why my occupation sits well with me.”
“You’re a lawyer, then?” I was only guessing, but all the clues so far led to that conclusion.
He nodded. “I moved back here to Virginia when Dr. Markham, one of my childhood mentors, offered me the chance to become part owner of his law practice.”
“Very impressive. Maybe I’ll keep you in my little black book just in case I need a lawyer one day,” I teased.
“Hmmm, where is this little black book?”
“Witches never tell all their secrets.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So you’ve finally admitted that you’re a witch?”
“I don’t know that I can call myself that since I don’t practice. It just so happens that I have this strange ability to absorb energy…and sometimes emotions.”
“There’s nothing strange about it at all,” Dawson said.
I looked away from him and glanced down at the wood grain on the counter. I traced the dark lines with my fingertips as I contemplated what to tell him. He was still a stranger to me. But stranger or not, I’d felt an instant connection to him. Now that it was just the two of us here in private, I was comfortable around him. Some strong force drew me to his essence, both man and wolf. And I had a gut feeling that the force urging me to open up to Dawson was a result of more than just my ability to read people and their emotions. What was it about him that quelled my greatest fears about myself?
Dawson touched the back of my hand with his palm, and I almost jumped back from the sudden rush of heat that came with his touch. When I didn’t move away, he placed his other palm over my other hand. He came around to the other side of the counte
r and closed some of the distance between us. The only thing separating him and I was a thin veil of hesitation. When I glanced into the depths of his eyes, I saw straight through to his soul, and once again confirmed the existence of the wolf spirit residing within him. He took a small step forward, and my heart thudded against my breastbone. When he lifted his hands, he brought mine with them up between our bodies, uncurling his fingers and allowing me to do the same. We stood almost motionless, palm-to-palm, for what seemed like an eternity. With pulse-pounding certainty, I knew that he was testing the extent of my abilities and me.
“I feel how strong you are. How strong your powers are.”
“What good are they if I don’t know how to use them?” I replied.
His forehead creased as he searched my face for answers. “No one has taught you how…?”
I shook my head. “My mom and stepdad died in that house fire I mentioned back when I was little. My biological dad found me huddled in a ravine in the forest nearby and took me in. I have no memory of what happened that night.”
I was just about to move away when he laced his fingers with mine to hold my hands. I wanted his touch more than I had ever wanted anything. He was one of the few people to ever bother to ask about my condition without being skeptical.
“Is your dad a…?”
“A witch? No, he doesn’t have what I have. This came from my mom, I’m certain of it. When he brought me to live with him, he said that his family—I mean, our family—had disowned him when he left his country to marry my mom.”
“Why would his family disown him for wanting to marry your mom?” he asked.
“He says we’re Dutch royalty with ties to the monarchy. His family never liked my mom. He thinks they knew something was wrong with her, just like I know something is wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he assured me. “Did they ever get married?”
I shook my head. “She left him to be with my stepdad, who wasn’t a good person. From what little memories I have left of my childhood, I don’t have very good ones of him. I don’t like talking about it. My dad has dozens of pictures in the attic of him and Mom together. I used to look at them—and I still do—because it’s really all I have to remember her by. Almost everything was destroyed in the fire, and I was too young to make sense of anything. For the longest, I still didn’t realize that the man who found me was my biological dad until the results of the paternity tests came back. He’d been putting it off for a long time because he didn’t trust a lot of the doctors with me. Someone had diagnosed me before as schizophrenic, and my dad was afraid that they’d send me away to some treatment facility.”
Wolf's Temptation (Caedmon Wolves Book 7) Page 4
