When he turned to look at her, he was smiling. An infectious smile, but one that had a twist of pain underneath. “Related? Is that the best you can do?”
She thought about lying, but she had the strangest feeling…as if he’d be able to smell if she was. “Yes.”
He let out a chuckle—a low, melodious noise that made something dance inside her. “I’ll let you into a secret,” he told her. “I have no idea how we’re related either. It all gets very complex around the second cousin stage. Here. This’ll warm you up.”
He held out a glass of Scotch. He’d been fixing her a drink, without bothering to ask what she wanted. Arrogant…but kind with it. She stepped closer to take it and noticed that he held it out at arm’s length, almost as though he wanted to stay as far from her as possible. Maybe he’s got a thing about touching, she thought. One of those people who are funny about germs. And yet the room didn’t strike her as sterile or obsessively clean. Far from it. It felt more like a den.
“You said you wanted no part of them,” she said. “Why not?”
His mouth tightened, but she didn’t get the feeling that it was her he was angry with. His eyes were distant—regret, maybe. “You misunderstood. I didn’t mean them, the happy couple. I meant them, everyone.” He met her eyes. “I prefer to be on my own.”
“Why?” Her mind was alive now with the scent of a story. What had happened to this rich, gorgeous man that he’d lock himself away in a castle? He could be out rubbing shoulders with supermodels in London or on a yacht in Cannes.
He looked at the floor. “I don’t do well around people. Especially—” He cut himself short.
“Especially who?” she asked.
He didn’t reply.
Rachel took a step closer and noticed that he pressed back against the bureau. It was subtle, but she was good at subtle. She could spot when a politician started to rub his nose when telling a lie, or when a line of questioning had him loosening his tie. This man was nervous of her. Nervous…and something else.
“Especially women?” She took another step towards him, and now she could feel something. It was like a wave of heat, radiating off him—she swore she could actually feel it on her skin, soaking into her body and warming her from the inside out, the heat turning dark as it sank down to her groin. Lust. He wanted her, on a level she’d never known before. It was almost frightening in its intensity…and intoxicating in what it was doing to her. If a man this handsome wanted her, she certainly wasn’t going to argue. But she could see something else in his expression, in the way he backed away. He wanted her…but why did he fear her?
She took another step. The air almost seemed to shimmer between them like a heat haze as she pressed forward.
He looked around the room, his gaze everywhere but on her. She could see him gritting his teeth, sucking in little gasps of air. “Don’t,” he said warningly.
He’s scared of me, she thought in wonderment. Why is he scared of me?
She made her voice innocent and sweet. “Don’t what?” she asked. “Don’t come any closer?”
She took another step towards him and he pressed harder against the bureau. He was strong enough that it actually moved, banging against the wall. She could see his chest rising and falling under the robe—he was panting now, as if he’d just run a mile.
“Don’t,” he said again, desperate now.
“It’s okay,” she said gently. God, he’s gorgeous. Those eyes! She was close enough now that she could put her glass down on the bureau behind him. That meant reaching around him, her bare arm brushing his body, her neck sliding close to his face.
Time seemed to stop. He gave a sudden, strangled intake of breath, and when the air came back out it was in a low, throaty growl. It rattled off the window panes, as powerful as the thunder but much, much lower, so low she felt it throughout her entire body. There was something unearthly about that sound—something about hearing it coming from a human mouth. It wasn’t a human noise.
Deep inside her body, all her steely resolve and carefully-honed confidence melted to icy liquid and sluiced away, leaving her bare and exposed. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit—
She’d made an awful mistake. He hadn’t been scared of her; he’d been scared of himself.
His eyes changed and, this time, there was no doubt. They shone like two gold coins as he grabbed her upper arms and twisted her, ramming her back against the bureau so that the hard edge of it dug into her ass. His mouth was on hers, those full, sensual lips finding her softer ones, his tongue plunging between them, demanding and possessive.
She gasped with the shock of it but she felt her eyes close, her lips flower softly open…and then she was kissing him back, mouth as open and hungry as his. He was pressed against her from shoulder to groin, his muscles like iron, and against her thigh she could feel the hot hardness of him.
There was pain on her bare upper arms, but it only deepened the intensity of the kiss. Their bodies writhed together, her breasts pressing against his chest, until suddenly—
He tore away from her, whirling to hide his face, and staggered halfway across the room. She gasped and panted, her legs suddenly weak. She had to blink to make sure she was seeing what she thought she saw: thick, black and gray fur on his exposed neck. Her upper arms stung. When she looked down at them, there were thin red scratches where he’d gripped her. She looked back to Alex and caught a glimpse of his hands. Shining black claws extended beyond his fingers.
He seemed to feel her eyes on her, because he snatched his hands in front of his body to hide them. He hunched his shoulders, flipping the collar of the robe up to hide his neck, and stood there for a second, breathing slowly. She thought to look down at his feet, but they were normal. When her eyes made it back up to his neck, he’d relaxed his shoulders and his neck was just tan, perfect skin again. A second later, his hands dropped to his sides and they, too, were normal.
Had she imagined the whole thing?
She looked at the red lines on her arms. No. No way. “What are you?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest.
He staggered over to the far side of the room and leaned against the door. He seemed almost drunk and shook his head as if to clear it. When he spoke, she could hear the anger and self disgust in his voice. “I warned you!”
He’s between me and the door, she thought. Her heart was pounding, an animal, instinctual fear still flooding her veins. And yet now, looking at him standing there so normal, so human…the whole thing seemed insane. There was something else, too, something irresistible to any reporter: the feeling that she’d caught a glimpse into a world that was normally off-limits.
And, alongside everything, the frightening intensity of the attraction. However scared she was, a big part of her wanted those lips back on hers, now.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” And she believed him.
“This is what happened with the woman from the village, isn’t it?” she asked slowly. “She came here to seduce you, and you…changed.”
He gave her a long look…and then nodded.
“Jesus.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. The wind was rising again outside, howling past the windows.
“I’m okay,” he said, “as long as I stay away from you.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be like this. It didn’t used to be. I used to be able to control it, years ago, but….” He sighed.
She picked up the glass of Scotch and drained about half of it in one swallow. It helped.
“You’re a….” She couldn’t say it. It sounded too ridiculous. “You—I mean, you change into—”
He gave her another long look. “Do you want to go?” he asked. “I can move away from the door. I want you to know that you can go.” And he backed off into the other corner of the room.
She looked at the door, and the normal, sane world that lay beyond. Part of her wanted to run back to it as fast as she possibly could.
The other part of her was remem
bering the feel of his lips on hers. She shook her head.
“Then swap places,” he told her. “I need a drink.”
They edged around the room. Halfway there, when they were at the closest point, he shook his head and gave a gasp, and she saw his hands bunch into fists as he fought it.
“What is it?” she asked, panicked. “I’m not even touching you!”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to. It’s everything about you. Your hair. Your eyes. Your body.” He said it in such a stark way, and yet that Scottish burr turned everything to poetry—somehow, the raw honesty of it made it even more intense. “If I close my eyes, I can still smell your scent.”
He moved around to the bureau, and she circled around to the door so that they were at opposite ends of the room again. He poured himself a Scotch, and the ritual of it seemed to calm him. “With the other woman that came here…it was different. She sneaked in while I was reading, put her arms around me. She was kissing me before I knew what was happening. She had to put her damn hand down my pants before I lost control. With you…I could feel it starting to happen even when you were still outside.” He suddenly met her eyes. “She was just a woman. You’re a woman I want.”
It sank in that she was against the door. She could open it and run into the night.
If she wanted to.
Hot desire was throbbing out from her core and snaking up and down her limbs. Hearing him describe how much he wanted her, how she affected him, was the most deeply erotic thing she’d ever experienced.
“It’s okay,” she said slowly. “I mean, I was scared. I’m still scared, a little. But it’s okay.”
He gave her a long look, as if judging whether she meant it, and then nodded gratefully and relaxed a little.
“Have you always…been like this?” she asked.
“It happens at a certain age. I was nineteen.” He took a deep breath. “When I was younger, it seemed easier. I only changed occasionally, a few times a month. I could control it better. Then the woman came here—” He shook his head, remembering. “I scared her so much.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Rachel said slowly.
“She nearly drowned!” He sighed. “After that, it was easier to just…withdraw. I stay here, out of sight. I have groceries sent over by boat and left outside the door. No contact with anyone.”
It made her mind spin. To be isolated like this, locked away in a castle.... “Can’t you—I mean, if people knew, maybe someone would be able to help you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Help me?” he said. “What makes you think I want to stop it happening?” He looked bitterly out of the window, the flashes of lightning lighting up his face. “The problem isn’t what I am. It’s how people would react. They’d lock me up in some damn lab.”
Rachel thought about some of the stories she’d covered. Kids with abnormalities. People with problems. He’d get the worst of both worlds—it would be a media circus and then the authorities would get involved. Some damn lab was probably right.
“What’s it like?” she asked in a small voice.
He looked at her strangely, as if no one had ever asked him that before. “Wonderful,” he said. “You have no idea how good it feels, to run through the forest fully changed. I run for hours through the trees and then come back here to sleep.”
She looked around the room—at the roaring fire and the cushions in front of it. In some ways, it didn’t seem such a bad life—apart from the heart-breaking loneliness.
She realized she’d stopped thinking about leaving. “It happens when you get…emotional, right?”
He nodded. “Angry. Or….”
“Or…worked up.”
They stared at one another for a moment. And then he seemed to shake himself, as if casting off a foolish daydream. “There’s no way off the island tonight. We’ll have to get you ashore tomorrow—can we do the interview then?” He looked down at his robe. “When I’m more appropriately dressed?”
She nodded. If she shot a video and sent it by lunchtime, she’d still make her deadline—assuming she could find a decent internet connection.
“There are plenty of bedrooms. Pick any one.” He nodded her towards a doorway—beyond it, she saw an ornate wooden staircase.
He’s sending me to bed…alone. A part of her was disappointed. Of course he is! Are you nuts? You only just met him and he’s a—a— God, had she really been thinking about…she blushed. “Thank you, Lord McKillington,” she managed, and headed toward the stairs.
She thought he wasn’t going to reply. She was almost past him when he suddenly said, “Alex.”
She turned and blinked at him.
“Alex. You can call me Alex. I mean, you can call me Alex if you want to.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I had to make small talk with a beautiful woman and I wasn’t great at it to start with.”
Rachel had to just nod, because all of a sudden her chest felt tight. Did he just call me beautiful?
***
She counted at least six bedrooms just in the first hallway she came to, and picked one at random. The beds weren’t made up and it struck her again how lonely he must be, living there without even a guest to break the monotony. She found bedding in a cupboard and made up the bed, then went to stare out of the window at the storm.
Across the water, now whipped up into a frenzy by the wind, she could see the lights of the village. She knew now why the locals were so afraid. Whether the woman who’d swum home had hinted at fur and claws or not, there must at least be rumors, after all these years. Her rational, journalist mind tried to square what she’d seen with what she knew of the world. Some inherited genetic mutation? Magic? It didn’t seem possible, but that didn’t make it any less true.
Standing there, she had time to think. Time to be honest with herself about what was going on. He wanted her—he’d actually said he wanted her. And yet he’d deliberately sent her to bed just to keep them at a distance.
A man who could change into a wolf. Who got partway there whenever his lust took control of him. I should be scared. And she was…on one level. The sensible, rational part of her brain that found parking spaces and pushed her career along was terrified.
But there was another part of her, the one that lived deep down in her core, the one she’d been blocking and ignoring for years. The part that told her she didn’t have time for a boyfriend and that sleeping with Karl the sound guy would make things awkward and that there was time for all of that later, when she’d made the move to a bigger station. That part of her was twisting slowly and insistently, demanding attention, and she didn’t want to admit why. He was gorgeous, yes, and even charming in that strangely British, arrogant sort of a way. And the royal connection had its own appeal—there was something about a man with a title, especially when he was a billionaire to boot. But it was more than that.
It was the fact that she could drive him so crazy that he’d actually lose control—she could feel how much he wanted her, every time he looked at her, and she’d never known that before. She’d never been wanted in that way and she couldn’t deny that she wanted him just as strongly. The knowledge of what would happen if he did lose control should have killed that desire, but, somehow, it only made it stronger. That kiss…his lips on hers, hard and demanding, her mouth panting under his—
She closed her eyes for a second, putting her hands on the window ledge to steady herself. Don’t be stupid. This whole thing wasn’t part of her world. It was some weird, dangerous thread of Scottish folk lore that had somehow survived into the twenty-first century, isolated on this tiny island from the march of time. She wasn’t going to reveal his secret to the world…but getting involved would be insane. She brushed the scratches on her arms. What if he lost control and hurt her?
She shook her head. She had to keep her distance, get the interview and go home. And leave him alone on his tiny island, just like everyone else had.
Chapter 3
Jet lag had her wide awake before six. She grabbed a shower and dressed, then padded quietly downstairs in stockinged feet to see if he was around. She didn’t want to wake him if he was still asleep; maybe she could find some coffee in the kitchen.
She reached the bottom of the staircase…and stopped.
Curled up on the cushions by the fireplace was a wolf.
Bigger than all but the largest dogs and powerfully muscled, it should have been intimidating. But asleep, curled into a relaxed “C,” it just looked…beautiful. Soft gray fur with dapples of black ran down its back, its belly and legs snow white. The long snout moved infinitesimally as it breathed, and she could see just a hint of white fangs between its lips.
It was…him. She would have known it instinctively, even if she’d seen the wolf outside the castle. There was something of him there in the room, some essence that went beyond four legs or two.
She watched the slow movement of its chest for long minutes before she crept back upstairs.
***
She figured she’d go for a run while he slept. She always took her running gear with her on trips, but pounding the sidewalk around the hotel got old pretty fast. She preferred trail running, but it was pretty rare that she’d stay somewhere with open country near the hotel, and even rarer that she’d feel safe enough to run along unfamiliar trails on her own.
Here, though, she had an uninhabited island to herself, right outside the door. It didn’t get any better than that.
She put on her gear and found a back door so that she didn’t have to wake him. She dithered for a moment over whether it was okay to leave it ajar so that she could get back in…and then it hit her that there was no one on the island to burgle him. Yeah, owning your own island has its advantages.
She hadn’t seen much of the island the previous day. It seemed to extend for a good few miles behind the castle, with long-overgrown paths winding through a forest. She didn’t bother with music. She wanted to soak up the atmosphere of the forest and enjoy the crisp, clean air. It wasn’t much warmer than it had been the day before, but the trees in the forest were so dense that they kept the worst of the rain off the forest floor, so it wasn’t too squelchy. Soon, she was running at any easy pace, the only sounds her pounding feet and the call of birds overhead.
The Reporter and the Billionaire Scottish Wolf Lord (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Page 2
