Crave The Night by Michele Hauf, Sharon Ashwood, Lori Devoti & Patti O'Shea

by Michele Hauf

  “Yes.” “Then I agree on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Give me your oath you won’t try to leave the house.”

  “Don’t!” barked Darak from beneath the gargoyle. “Never give your word to a fey. You’ll always regret it. No exceptions.”

  The gargoyle pressed a leathery hand over the vampire’s mouth and gave a rattling hiss, forked tongue flickering.

  Rafe glared at Lila, but his words were for his trusted friend. “I accept the terms. Just get my father out of here.”

  Chapter Three

  Lila wasn’t sure what to do with this latest wolf creature.

  She marched into her office, her jeans still uncomfortably wet from the spilled ice water. At least she was more comfortable than whatshisname now chilling in the caged room in the basement.

  It had been unpleasant to watch her gargoyles drag him from the room. They weren’t the gentlest when it came to transporting reluctant prisoners and, despite what had just happened, Lila wasn’t a fan of brute force.

  The office was dark, but she fell into the chair behind her desk without switching on the lamp. There wasn’t a lot to see in the white-on-white room. Desk, chairs, a couch and a TV she occasionally watched to ensure her activities hadn’t hit the nightly news. So far, not a peep. She’d been both careful and lucky.

  Lucky. The word echoed mockingly in her mind. She stared for a moment at the starry sky outside the large office window to her left. This side of the house faced the cliff and the view was breathtaking. So was the zillion-yard drop to a rocky death below. Unlike most fey, she couldn’t fly. Tonight, that seemed as much metaphor as fact. My luck is dropping like a stone.

  She turned away from the skyscape and planted her elbows on the desk, resting her face in her hands. Wolves. Big, bad, bloody nuisances. Weariness washed over her, leaving her feeling as bleached as driftwood. Ralph? Rafe. That was his name. C’mon. You knew that. You don’t forget the name of a guy with abs—and stuff—like that.

  He’d walked right into the enemy camp armed with nothing but a handgun and a vampire. Something about his defiance had broken through her studied calm. Not good.

  She should really put him to sleep with the rest. Curiosity was a fey’s greatest weakness, and Lila knew herself too well. In more carefree times, she’d been all in favor of unruly naked men. But that was then. Now was not a time when she could afford indulgence. There was oath-magic at work.

  Three vows had been made, each dangerous enough on its own, but piled together they made a precarious house of cards. The first and most serious one she’d made was an oath to save her people, whatever it took.

  Second, she had made a bargain with the man who threatened them. No ordinary human, he had the backing of a powerful corporation, wealth, and the law. He’d promised to leave the fey alone for a year and a day or until she gave him something he wanted even more than their annihilation.

  The third vow hinged on the second. Her sisters had agreed to help her. The price for their generosity had been high, for magic never gave without taking away. In order to empower Lila, they had traded their exceptional beauty to become gargoyle servants for the term of her quest, or until her mission failed.

  Three vows. One tangled web.

  She’d used the energy from these three spells to do a lot of things: she’d found Wolf Creek and its riches, and then built the opulent house calculated to reassure her wolfish visitors—right before she hit them with a sleeping spell. Most of all, the triple-spell magic kept her activities cloaked in secrecy. That had been part of the bargain: Lila had to keep the whole affair out of the news and invisible to the eyes of human law.

  There were too many “ifs.” If she could pull it off. If her magic didn’t fail. If her enemy kept to his half of the deal. If it all worked out, she could go home knowing her family would be safe. If not . . .

  The phone rang and she started upright, heart racing. The backlit caller ID read “Masterson. Cell.”

  The boss. He who had threatened—still threatened—everything and everyone she held dear. The enemy.

  Her pulse hammered in her ears. Every time Masterson called, she worried he would renege on his part of their deal and bring everything crashing down. Fey charms were useless on the man. She would have had to dress up like a net profit to make her seduction spells work.

  Suddenly needing the comfort of light, Lila switched on the lamp before picking up the receiver. “Lila Wilding.”

  “Progress?”

  That was how he started every call. And like every time, her tongue was suddenly sandpaper. “Um. Well, sir, I acquired a new guest tonight.”

  “How many does that make? What use is he?”

  Lila put the situation in terms a shark like Masterson could understand. “He has the means to persuade others. He’s valuable to the wolves.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s the son of their king.”

  “Then make it happen. You’re almost out of time.”

  The line went dead in her hand. Lila took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. Masterson was right about the ticking clock. The year and a day she had to work a miracle was almost up.

  Oberon’s balls! Rafe Devries wasn’t going to betray his Pack. Her instincts said he was far too stubborn.

  But nothing was as tricky as a fey.

  And no fey was as desperate as Lila.

  The house had been built on a slope, leaving half the basement—mostly utility rooms—with plenty of light. In the other, windowless half were chambers equally useful but far less ordinary. At the end of a long hallway, deep under the earth, were the darkest places. Lila walked down the corridor toward her prisoner, wishing she’d thought to bring a sweater. It was cold and damp.

  Lila slowed as she neared her destination. Rafe was alone in the cell. She could see everything, since the door of the room was made of bars like a cage at the zoo. He slumped on the edge of the hard single bed, pulling on his socks. Evidently, her servants had reunited him with his clothes. A pity, but she had to admit beefcake wasn’t quite the same with goosepimples.

  Her irreverent thought vanished as he looked up, dark eyes smoky with anger. He had the typical werewolf looks: dark springy hair, high cheekbones, narrow jaw, straight nose. He was tall for his kind, but lean. Wolves moved like coiled springs, all edgy tension that filled a room even when they were completely still. Despite their civilized facade, it paid to remember they were still wild beasts.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky with resentment.

  “Your co-operation, wolf.”

  “Try ‘please.’ There’s an old human saying that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” He pulled on his other sock, then started on the boot.

  Irritation pricked at Lila. She’d grown used to the adoration of the males she’d held captive. His indifference chafed. “Then how do I catch wolves? Something squirmy from the pet shop, or will a raw flank steak do the trick?”

  He gave her a look that made her regret her words. Attitude wasn’t going to get her very far with this specimen. He finished with the boots and stood up, dusting his hands on his jeans. “You don’t know a thing about us, do you?”

  Not much. Then again, the wolves probably thought she was the villain. Secrecy had its down side. You think you’ve got problems, wolfman. Try some of mine.

  She folded her arms. “So then tell me.”

  He paced, quick, restless steps. “What?”

  “Anything. Do all your people live in Wolf Creek?”

  “We’re ranchers. Where else would we be?”

  She shrugged. “Just asking. You don’t seem the type to spend your days chasing cows.”

  “We’re not like the urban Packs. The Devries wolves don’t do appletinis and book clubs.”

  “Yoga?”

  “Not so much.” His words were clipped with impatience. “Now it’s my turn to ask something. What did you do with Wyatt and Tom?”

 
; “I sent them home with your vampire friend.”

  “To die of broken hearts,” he snarled. “La Belle Dame sans Merci.”

  The name meant beautiful, pitiless woman. Bloody hell, she hated that poem. “No, of course not. I took the spell off. They’ll bounce back.”

  “How very generous of you.”

  “I’m not a monster.” His look said otherwise, and she felt herself flush.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why did you take them in the first place?”

  “To prove a point. To scare you. I have power. I can glamor the wolves whenever I please.”

  “Not all of us.” He stalked back and forth, looking more like a caged tiger. “That’s why you put the others to sleep. Those are our leaders. Those with Alpha blood. Your charm is powerful, but not enough to control a very strong will. Easier to knock them out.”

  He was right and by the look on his face, he enjoyed finding a weakness. She wasn’t going to add to his satisfaction by telling him that the others had come far closer to surrender than he. His will was forged of an iron she could not break. So far, anyway. I’m not out of the game yet.

  She kept her own voice ice-cold. “They might be stubborn, but not smart. They were easy enough to lure here.”

  He matched her chilly look with one of his own. “But once your victims arrived, you couldn’t get them to sign over their land. Not even to save their friends.”

  When she didn’t answer, he went on. “Once they knew what you were after, you couldn’t let them warn the rest of Wolf Creek. So you put your victims to sleep, turning them into hostages until you’re ready to make your move. Since the individual approach didn’t work, you’re going to force the whole town to give in. Our land for our Alphas. And you want me to be your mouthpiece in this hellish blackmail.”

  Lila folded her arms. He’d figured it out. Smart wolf. “When the time comes, your people will awaken with no ill effects.”

  “They’re bargaining chips.”

  “More or less.”

  “What a wonderful Alpha bitch you would make.”

  “I assume you mean that literally.”

  “You’ve already got there metaphorically.”

  “I’m a quick study.” She gave him a thin smile. “And I’m not going to spend all night trading insults. I have better things to do with my time. Let’s get down to business.”

  “Fine.” He whirled mid-pace, frustration contorting his features. “What can I do to end this?”

  “When I get Wolf Creek, you get your people back. Your daddy gets his heir back. Like you said, you’re my mouthpiece.”

  The muscles in his jaw twitched with anger. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t do it.”

  Lila kept her cool. As long as he was emotional and she wasn’t, she had the upper hand. “I’ve been patient, but the clock is ticking.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  She shrugged. It wasn’t any of his affair.

  “Well?” he repeated.

  She looked at him through the bars, still wondering how the hell she was going to persuade him to fall into line with her plans. She’d be smart to put a few cards on the table. “I represent the Masterson Group.”

  The name made him recoil. Well, at least they had that feeling in common.

  Then a look of understanding washed over his face, as if he were connecting a whole lot of dots. His lip curled, the human version of a wolf’s snarl. “They’ve been around here before, doing geological surveys. There’s a notion Wolf Creek is sitting on an oil field.”

  “Your families were the original homesteaders. You still hold the mineral rights.”

  Rafe gave a single nod. “So let’s get this part out of the way: I know oil companies lease the right to drill in return for a cut of the profits. We’re not interested.”

  “If we can’t lease the rights, then we have to force you to sell.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Lila curled her hands around the silver bars, exasperation making her want to bang her head against them. She’d had this conversation with every one of the sleepers upstairs. Even charmed right off their paws, she couldn’t make them sign their land away. “You could be rich and still keep your ranches. Be reasonable. Do it for the sake of your people.”

  Rafe glowered, stalking back and forth just the other side of the bars. She could feel his body heat as he passed. “Rich in human terms. We’re wolves. We don’t look at things the same way.”

  She gave the bars a shake. “Then change your perspective, Mr. Devries.”

  “Money isn’t everything. You don’t rent out your home so that some oil guys can wheel up a drilling rig and suck the life out of it. It’s a violation of everything that matters to us.”

  Frustration grated along her nerves. She turned from him, now pacing herself as she waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, come now, I’ve heard of werewolves who live in downtown apartments. Their idea of a good hunt is finding a drive-through window.”

  Rafe kicked the bars, his heavy boot making them ring like the bell from the Tower of Doom. The sound made her flinch.

  “We’re good, old-fashioned, howl-at-the-moon varmints, and we like our grass green and our water pure. Each Pack member might own his or her mineral rights, but it was decided long ago, the first time the oil barons began sniffing around our land, that we’ll move together. Either the whole Pack agrees to a deal, or none of us do. And we won’t.”

  Wolves and their territory. It was starting to make a weird kind of sense. “So you say.” Her bottom lip curved into what she hoped looked like a knowing smile. “I say you’ll change your mind.”

  “And what do you get for all your efforts?” Now he stepped close to the bars, peering down at her from beneath a lock of dark, curling hair. “What’s Masterson paying you to destroy us?”

  She gave him a long, considering look. He was too raw, too real for games. She could feel his presence like a gathering storm. “There are a lot of us praying he keeps his word.”

  His brow knitted, his anger morphing to something else. “Who is ‘us’? What did he promise you?”

  That look undid her. It was too close to sympathy. Pain caught in her throat and she looked away, the lights suddenly too bright.

  Though the touch of the silver-coated bars must have been painful, he reached between them, grasping her hand in his. “Lila, are you in trouble, too?”

  Like all the wolves, he ran hot. Her fey senses swam with imagery carried in his touch—racing through the woods on all fours, the hot grit of desert sand, the notion that, despite her magic more than because of it, he thought she was beautiful.

  She pulled away. The warm shadow of his grip tingled on her skin, reawakening the image of his naked body. Her mouth suddenly ran dry with unexpected desire, an electric need that pulsed through every nerve. I want him. I must be mad.

  She looked up, seeing the same uninvited interest in the set of his mouth. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he were catching and memorizing her scent.

  The moment stretched on and on. They were enemies and yet he’d reached out. That deserved a response.

  If only she could give one. She lowered her gaze, staring at the toes of her shoes. When she spoke, her voice was listless, almost sad. “My business isn’t yours, wolf, but I thank you for asking.”

  Imagery flickered through her mind, a montage of her childhood: Gilden Woods, rolling in the grass with her sisters, the snow on their house the year the elk nearly walked right through the front door.

  She blinked, and she was back in the cold basement of the white-on-white prison that magic built. She was here because she was in a fight to the death—and not just for herself.

  Now there was pity in the wolf’s eyes. Somehow he’d caught a glimpse of the real battle.

  Lila grabbed for her defenses, pulling them around her like a protective blanket. Maybe pity was the key to winning Rafe Devries over. With a sad story and some hand-wringing, maybe she could get him to convince
his Pack to sell after all.

  A wave of nausea caught the back of her throat. How low are you going to stoop before this is over? Who is the real beast here?

  She turned and strode away before he saw her cry.

  Chapter Four

  Lila hurried back upstairs, but not to her office. She slipped out the door to the poolside patio, feeling the cool summer night through the silky fabric of her blouse. The mountain air had the same snap as a crisp apple, bright and alive with energy.

  It soothed away the heat of her burning face. How dare he?

  She wasn’t even sure what she meant by the question. How dare he upset her? How dare he resist? How dare he be justified in objecting to absolutely everything she was doing?

  Maybe, how dare he be so damned appealing? She’d got an eyeful of werewolf au naturel earlier, but he was just as good eye-candy fully dressed. Added to that, he had that smouldering aura of a male beast in his prime. There’d been moments when she’d been infinitely grateful for the silver bars between them. And yet, even when he had been wrestling her to the floor, he hadn’t hurt her. Rafe Devries might be a beast, but he wasn’t a brute.

  Perhaps that was her, La Belle Dame sans Merci.

  She kicked off her shoes and padded to the edge of the pool. The lights from the house reflected in ripples from the dark water, dancing in time with the breeze. She knelt by the edge, trailing her fingers through the pools of brightness. I was so sure what I was doing was right, but every day that goes by makes me doubt more and more.

  Her vows had been hasty, made in passion. Made in front of her entire tribe of fey. She hadn’t thought through the consequences, but the heart she’d poured into the act had bound her fast. Fey held their honor dear, and promises bound them tight.

  Lila never did things half-way when her blood was up.

  Conjure in haste, regret at leisure. One of her father’s favorite lines.

  But her intent had been pure. She sank both hands into the water, cupping them to catch the water. She raised the bowl of her palms, letting rivulets fall between her fingers to bubble and splash in the pool. Show me, she willed the water and the moonlight. Remind me why I do this.