by Faye Avalon
“Not yet. I have a surprise for you.”
She folded her arms over her chest, trying to keep from totally freaking out. “I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime, thanks. I’d as soon get back to London.”
At least there she would be around familiar people, and although she could never tell them the truth of what was going on, she would have their comforting presence everyday. She had liked her colleagues and enjoyed their easy banter and the socializing after work. Although that had changed somewhat since she had hooked up with the boss, and some of her colleagues had become a little wary of her, she’d still enjoyed a pleasurable circle of friendships and camaraderie.
She thought again about going to the police, but what would she say? How would she convince them? If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would find it impossible to believe, so how could she expect anyone else to accept her story? They’d probably turn her over to the nearest psych ward for evaluation. Especially since she would be dissing the much-revered Tor Vladimir.
An incredibly successful businessman, Tor handled security for many high-ranking officials, including politicians and royalty. Self-made, well respected, and highly regarded. If you needed security, and you needed the best, you hired Tor.
He didn’t spend his days directing operations from behind a desk either, much preferring to get down and dirty and into the thick of things. Citations for bravery didn’t get awarded to desk-jockeys. He had worked in some of the world’s most formidable war zones, in some of the most perilous terrains and most unforgiving regions on the planet. He had awards and distinctions to prove it.
Which raised the question, why would anyone in authority trust the word of a software developer over the likes of Tor Vladimir? Especially since they would no doubt see her as a spurned ex-lover or an embittered employee seizing an opportunity to make a name for herself in the tabloids.
Spurned ex-lover accuses high-flying billionaire of being a werewolf.
She’d be a laughingstock. And for sure the offers of work would come flooding in then, wouldn’t they? Who wouldn’t want to employ a nut ball who dreamed up stories of werewolves and the like?
Not that she had any intention of going to the authorities. At least not to tell them about Tor’s incredible ability to change into a wolf. That wasn’t his fault.
Such an ability is not of my choosing.
What had happened to him? she wondered. What events had shaped what he had become?
While Tor occupied himself on his smart phone, Connie stared out the window and mused on those questions. Growing up, she had read fabled tales of people being changed into werewolves or vampires but had never considered the stories to be remotely true. Yet now she had solid proof that they were, and that proof was sitting right beside her.
As the miles sped past, Connie’s head began to pound from all the unanswered questions spinning around in her head.
“Where are we going?” she asked again when Tor eventually looked up from his phone.
He glanced at his watch. “In twenty minutes or so, you’ll see for yourself. Why don’t you take a nap?”
As if. She was so damned hyper, her nerves becoming more and more strung out with each passing mile. They were heading into a hilly, almost mountainous region. A perfect location for a man with Tor’s ability. While she had seen him for mere moments in his primal state, she had no difficulty imagining him in wolf form bounding through those hills, sniffing the air and picking up scents, picking up sounds.
Panic bubbled up, and she drove the image back. She looked across at him, as if to reassure herself that he was sitting there and she hadn’t been having some bizarre daydream where she’d wake up back behind Darius’s bar.
He caught her look. “Relax, milaya.”
“Relax? Are you kidding me? How can I do that when I don’t know where the hell you’re taking me? But then you always were secretive, and now I know why. You had to protect yourself.”
She shook her head. Would there ever come a time, if she thought about it enough, that she would come to terms with what he was?
“You need to open your mind. Admit there are things in this universe that transcend the ordinary.”
“I think I’d just as soon stick to the ordinary, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She wasn’t going to play along. It was best she remain silent and not get into his mind games. She sat back, giving herself a mental pep talk while the car hummed along on its path to wherever the hell knew.
****
Tor focused again on his phone, although it was impossible to concentrate when the woman beside him challenged him so admirably. Connie refused to back down and was determined to give him grief. While he commended her show of bravado, it was an act. He saw the fear in her eyes, and how could he blame her for that? It had taken him years to accept the unbelievable truth of what he’d been made into. He’d fought against it so hard he had almost killed himself in the process. How could he expect Connie to accept it readily?
As the woodlands gave way to a clearing, Tor put away his phone. He felt himself relax for the first time since he’d followed his instincts—and her scent—to the sleazy bar in central Milan. It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated to find her, and he’d feared that he was losing his touch. That his instincts had dulled since the moment he’d looked up and found her watching him as he’d shifted back from wolf form. He would never forget the sheer terror in her stricken eyes, or the way her hand had covered her mouth as she stood rooted to the spot.
Something had happened to him. And it had taken him these last four weeks to discover exactly what it was. He had allowed emotion to rule him. He had permitted himself to care. Deeply. He had vowed a long time ago that he would never care for another being. Not enough that it would overrule his logic, his judgment. He had let his desire for Connie, his need to have her, his determination to possess her, overcome his instincts.
He wanted her. She was his. Only his. Now he had her, and would keep her.
He would show her that she had nothing to fear from him. Show her that beneath the amazing ability he had been given, he was still the man she had taken as her lover. Whatever it took, he was prepared to do it. Maybe making threats hadn’t been the best plan, but he couldn’t take the chance that she would run again. He feared she might run too far next time, bury herself somewhere remote where it would take him even longer to find her. Besides, threats or not, he would make it up to her. She would want for nothing, would be completely pampered. He would fulfil her every wish, and she would come to understand that she was his. His to desire, control, possess. To own.
He heard her soft gasp as Grigor swung the car around the tall hedge of cypress trees and the villa came into view. She leaned forward, her mouth falling open.
“Do you like it?”
She didn’t say anything, just continued to gawp at his Italian home at the foot of the mountains.
“It has an indoor pool,” he heard himself say. “Heated. I recall you enjoy swimming.”
She went every single morning, he remembered. To the local swimming baths for their early bird sessions before the workday began. He hoped his pool would please her while they remained in Italy.
“Why are we staying here? In this hotel?”
“It’s not a hotel. It’s my home.”
“Your home?” Her tone wasn’t incredulous. It was accusatory. “You own this?”
His temper hiked. “Da. Is there a problem?”
“But you live in London. You never said anything about this.”
He had planned to tell her. That weekend in the New Forest.
Her eyes went wary. “Do you live here alone?” Now there was trepidation, perhaps even fear since her voice shook a little.
“I do. Except for the staff, of course.”
“When do you have the time to come here?”
“Not as often as I would like, but I usually manage to f
it in a stay before or after my overseas trips. It allows me the freedom I need.”
She didn’t acknowledge that, but he knew she had grasped his meaning. He needed the nearby woods, the mountainous terrain. Only in places such as this could he freely release his beast.
The car pulled up at the portico entrance, and Tor stepped out. Before he could come around to open her door, Grigor beat him to it. She was already on the first of the stone steps leading to the double wooden entrance doors when he came up beside her.
“Perhaps you’d enjoy some refreshment before I give you a tour.”
“What I’d enjoy is a ticket on the first plane out of here,” she said tersely. “Alone.”
“That’s not an option, but perhaps a champagne cocktail might soften your mood.”
Another of her favorite things. He planned to shower her with whatever her heart desired.
She said nothing, but he knew she took in everything. All the while he showed her around—from the marble floored hallway, the east to west living room that faced a huge lake and beyond it the mountains, the state-of-the-art kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances—she remained silent.
But when he led her down a flight of stairs into the basement and beyond it the huge glass-domed pool area, she actually gasped. “Oh my God. This is bigger than the municipal baths.”
He liked it, he realized. He liked pleasing her. It was something he rarely focused on, pleasing a woman, at least beyond the bedroom. Oh, he wined them, dined them, lavished them with gifts, but he had never really been intent on truly making them happy. For some reason, with Connie, he wanted to do just that.
She dropped to her haunches and stuck her hand in the water. “It’s warm,” she crooned. “And it smells of something I can’t put my finger on.”
“Citrus?” he asked, knowing that it was exactly that since he insisted on the fragrance.
“Yes.” She breathed in deeply, briefly closing her eyes. “It makes a refreshing change from chlorine.” She stood. “I didn’t know you swam?”
“I prefer the gym. Want to see it?”
Her eyes went wide, but she just nodded. He led her off the side of the pool and into another annex, which again faced the mountains. He took a deep breath of his own, taking in the comforting scent of pine that washed through the window he had instructed be opened pending his arrival. Whenever he worked out, he preferred the scent of fresh air and sweat to any man-made fragrance.
She wandered around the room, sliding her hands over running machines, treadmills, and an assortment of dumbbells and weights. “Impressive. I knew you had to get that physique from somewhere. But the treadmill seems a little overkill. Don’t you get enough exercise running around on all fours?”
Her barb stung, but maybe she deserved the odd swipe at him. He’d allow her to have her fun. It was a whole lot to slap a woman with, especially since she’d been thrown in at the deep end, so to speak, and had actually seen him transform before he could warn her, before he could talk to her about what he was, about what to expect when she saw him shift.
“When you’re done here, I’ll show you upstairs.”
A wariness came into her eyes again. He preferred it when she was baiting him, he realized, preferred her sarcasm and snipes to the fear that could so easily flash when she looked at him.
He led the way back up, and she followed him along the landing. He’d fully intended that she’d share his bed. That, while she might be hesitant, he would have no problem in persuading her that he was still the same man who had pleasured her, thrilled her, and taken her to the very heights of sexual ecstasy. But at the door to the master bedroom he hesitated. He needed to seduce her. He didn’t want her scared of him; he didn’t want her guarded. He wanted the passion they had once shared, the desire and the craving. He wanted her opening to him with abandon, taking him in with no doubt in her mind that they were meant to be together. That they were meant to be lovers. That she would get as much from the relationship as he would.
He walked on past the master bedroom, stopping at the door of the next room. Saying nothing, he swung the door open and stood back. Connie’s eyes stayed firm on his as she walked past him into the room. Her caution made his temper flare. It seemed he was a long way from gaining her acceptance.
Just inside the room, she stopped and glanced around.
“I trust it’s to your liking.”
“I’d challenge anyone to say it wasn’t.” Slowly, she moved into the room, her gaze taking in the polished wooden floors, the antique Persian rug, before moving up to the massive glass chandelier he’d had made especially in Venice. “Couldn’t you have found a bigger bed?”
Since the bed was large enough to accommodate several people, he raised an eyebrow, enjoying her barbed snipes while figuring he owed her the shots.
She walked toward the French windows and crossed her arms as she surveyed the view of the lake.
“I’ll have Grigor bring up your bag,” he said, resisting the urge to join her, to breathe her in. From the first moment he’d seen her in Milan, her scent had settled in his nostrils and had been growing stronger until it all but swamped him. He cleared his throat. “If you need anything, just say and I’ll arrange it.”
She turned sharply, her eyes flashing blue fire. “I doubt you’d arrange what I really need.”
He drew in a breath, summoning every scrap of patience he had. “We’ve been over this. You made a choice. You’re free to leave at any time.”
“But if I do you’ll just keep coming after me.”
“That’s the deal.”
She huffed. “Some deal. And you’re hardly sticking to it. You said if I stayed with you I could go back to London. Resume my career.”
“I did.”
“Then why are we here? You’re holding me like some sort of prisoner miles from anywhere. That certainly didn’t form part of any deal. You threatened to do that only if I refused to come back with you.”
Because he couldn’t bear to see the accusation in her eyes, he wandered across to her, but she sidestepped him. Once again, he kept his thinning patience in check. A little time. That’s what she needed. Time to realize that deep inside he was still the same man she had taken as her lover. Time to understand that she had nothing to fear from him. “I thought you’d enjoy a short break in pleasant surroundings before we return to London.”
“Well, you thought wrong. I want to go back. Now.”
“That’s not possible. Snow can move into these parts quicker than you can blink.”
She looked out toward the perfect blue sky. “Doesn’t look like snow to me.”
“The weather changes by the hour. Especially this time of year.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How very convenient.”
He turned, still trying to bank down his irritation, and went to the door. “This continual need to fight me is a futile exercise, milaya. Why don’t you simply accept the reality of your situation and enjoy these next few days before we return to London?”
Pointedly, she glanced around the room again. “I assume this is the master?”
“It isn’t.” He almost smiled at her look of surprise. “I’ve decided to give you some breathing space, a little solitude from which you can fully come to terms with the choice you’ve made and learn to accept it.”
“What does that mean? I don’t have to sleep with you?”
He might have laughed at the sheer hope in her expression, but her words cut too deep for that. “Is my lovemaking so repulsive to you now that you would wish to deny us both the pleasure of sex?”
“What do you think? You’ve kidnapped me. And you’re a wolf,” she added as if he might have forgotten.
“I’m a man.” His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth. “With a special ability.”
“A special ability for most people would be playing the piano, or tap dancing, or being able to whistle through their teeth.”
“All of which are admirable, but alas, curren
tly beyond my own capabilities. Except, perhaps, whistling through my teeth.”
Her lips thinned, and she glared at him. “How about giving me some of that breathing space? Believe me, I could do with it about now.”
He inclined his head, pushed his hands in his trouser pockets, and strolled to the door. “Explore a little if you like. But stay within the grounds. Like I said, the weather could close in.”
With one last look at her seething expression, Tor closed the door and headed downstairs to speak with Grigor.
****
Even after Grigor had eventually arrived with her bag and told her that dinner would be served at seven o’clock, sharp, Connie was still desperately on edge. Free of Tor’s overwhelming presence, she had the space to begin to process everything. It was all too surreal for words. She was somewhere in what she assumed were the Italian Alps, the captive of a man who could transform into a wolf. A wolf. Besides which he was a ruthless tyrant who demanded his own way.
She’d tried to draw Grigor into conversation, hoping to obtain a smidgen of information that might work in her favor, but the burly man barely gave her eye contact, let alone talked to her.
Refusing to hang her few items of clothing in the vast wardrobe, she instead laid them out across a chair, and kept her toiletries in her wash bag. That way, she could make a quick escape if the opportunity presented itself.
But having been unable to resist taking a shower in the en suite—which was almost the size of her whole flat back in London—she changed into a fresh t-shirt and, deciding to take Tor’s advice, set out to explore.
It was hard to deny that the villa was an exceptionally stunning building, with exquisite marbled floors and amazing stucco paneling throughout. She didn’t want to like it. She wanted to hate it. She wanted to hate Tor.
But it seemed she couldn’t do either. What sort of idiot was she that she couldn’t stop reacting to him whenever he was near? That she couldn’t switch off her feelings, even knowing how ruthless he was. She’d been relieved that he wasn’t expecting they’d just hop right back in bed together, and she appreciated his giving her that much-needed breathing space, but she was a little disappointed, too. Which just went to show how bizarre this whole thing was. Perhaps she was actually starting to lose her mind with the stress of it.
