WEREWOLF IN GREENWICH VILLAGE
A Wild About You Novella
Vicki Lewis Thompson
New American Library
New American Library
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First E-Book Printing, September 2011
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Vicki Lewis Thompson, 2011
All rights reserved
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this e-book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
CHAPTER ONE
Any self-respecting female werewolf knew how to walk into a nightclub by herself. Nadia Henderson had mastered that skill so well that she made walking into a nightclub alone look like her preference.
That talent would come in handy tonight. She wasn’t about to give up an espresso martini at her favorite club because her assistant, Sherry, had decided she would rather see an obscure Broadway play than accompany her. Nadia had been anticipating her martini ever since leaving Chicago. And while she enjoyed her nights out with Sherry, she certainly didn’t mind going to the club, Jessie’s, alone.
The powerful Wallace pack owned the members-only club located in the heart of Manhattan. An elegant black enamel door at street level admitted members to a small ground-floor lobby. Jessie’s was one flight up, accessed either by a red-carpeted stairway or a walnut-paneled elevator.
Although the membership consisted solely of Weres, human guests were allowed. The Wallaces insisted on a strict no-transformation policy while in Jessie’s, so the guests had no idea they’d entered a wolf den.
The continued business success of Were packs all over the world depended on that kind of secrecy. If humans ever discovered that werewolves lived among them and controlled much of the wealth in several large cities, panic would ensue.
Stepping out of the car she’d hired for the length of her stay in New York, Nadia thanked the driver, who’d come around to open her door. She’d managed to find a company progressive enough to offer hybrids, but the driver was old-school, which she appreciated.
As the driver got behind the wheel again and took the car back into traffic, Nadia snapped open her evening bag and pulled out a key card. The Wallace crest on the front of the card reminded her of how drastically her future plans had changed in less than a year. Just last January she’d rescinded a lifelong pledge to mate with Aidan Wallace, elder son of the Wallace pack alpha.
Given mirror-image names, Nadia and Aidan had been promised to each other at birth in hopes of uniting the Wallace pack of New York with the Henderson pack of Chicago. That hope had died when Aidan had fallen in love with a human. Initially everyone in the Were community had been horrified for both political and security reasons. Everyone except Nadia.
Once she’d seen how much Aidan and Emma loved each other, she’d known they had to be together. And she knew Aidan well enough to trust them both to work out a life together that wouldn’t jeopardize the fate of all Weres. Releasing Aidan from his pledge had been the right thing to do. The affection she felt for him was a pale emotion compared to the passion he and Emma shared.
But this was her first visit to Jessie’s since Aidan and Emma’s wedding last spring. She’d dressed carefully in one of her organic cotton creations, an autumn-orange wisp of a dress that was perfect for a warm fall evening. She’d left her black hair loose and it cascaded to the middle of her back.
As she gazed at the street door leading to Jessie’s, she admitted that coming to a nightclub that reminded her of Aidan had been a test to see whether she could carry on with style, as if her life hadn’t undergone a major sea change. Until Aidan met Emma, Nadia’s future had seemed secure.
Although no date had been set, she and Aidan had planned to take a werewolf oath of fidelity when the time was right. The fact they’d never managed to set a date should have warned her that the plan was flawed.
Now she had no idea what the future would bring. Her father was the Henderson pack alpha, and he’d begun hinting that Nadia would inherit that role instead of her only brother, Theo. She’d always known she was more alpha than Theo, and recently Theo had become far too unbalanced to lead the pack. If Nadia had mated with Aidan, she would have become part of Aidan’s pack, forcing her father to choose an alpha outside the nuclear family. But now she was free to serve instead of Theo when the time came.
As she started toward the door, she heard a car pull up to the curb. The soft purr of the engine suggested it was a luxury car. She glanced back and her pulse rate spiked. Aidan’s chauffeur drove a black Town Car much like this one.
Aidan could have scheduled an intimate evening at Jessie’s with his new wife Emma. Nadia hadn’t factored that into her plans. Pausing on the sidewalk, she turned and took a steadying breath.
After years of visiting New York, she knew most of the Weres who lived here, and she’d likely recognize the Town Car’s passengers. They’d know her, too, so walking away would be rude.
If Aidan and Emma climbed out of the car, she’d greet them with a smile. If they invited her to share their table, she’d accept. She genuinely liked Emma, who agreed with many of Nadia’s green initiatives.
And deep in Nadia’s heart, she knew that Emma was a better mate for Aidan tha
n Nadia would have been. Nadia and Aidan were too much alike, both mired in tradition. Emma forced Aidan out of his comfort zone.
But when the Town Car’s back door opened, Nadia’s Were sense of smell told her Aidan wasn’t there. Instead Aidan’s brother, Roarke, stepped out. Another Were male was in the car, as well. She couldn’t see him clearly yet, but his scent was disturbingly familiar.
Roarke grinned and hurried toward her. “Hey, Nadia! I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just got in.” Roarke was the kind of brother she wished she had as opposed to Theo, who was a royal pain in the ass. Roarke had the same great physique and chiseled profile as his older brother, but Roarke was blond instead of dark-haired like Aidan. Still, no one seeing them together would doubt they were closely related.
Roarke gave her a warm hug. “That’s my good luck, then. Come on up and have a drink with Quentin and me.”
The tension that had drained from her at Roarke’s arrival rushed back with a vengeance. So Quentin Wallace, Roarke and Aidan’s cousin, was the other Were she’d scented.
Each time she’d met him at pack gatherings, she’d been swamped with lust. The werewolf code encouraged single Weres, even those who were pledged as Aidan and Nadia had been, to explore their sexuality before committing to one mate for life. But Nadia hadn’t liked the idea of having an affair with the cousin of her mate-to-be, so she’d armored herself against Quentin’s powerful appeal.
She suspected he’d felt the same sizzle whenever they’d met, but he’d never acknowledged it, either. It was bad manners to covet the female intended for the crown prince. Quentin hadn’t stayed long at Aidan and Emma’s wedding reception, so this was the first opportunity for Nadia to spend time with him since being released from her pledge.
He walked toward her with the lithe grace of a werewolf in his prime. As a contractor specializing in remodeling, he usually smelled liked fresh-cut wood with an underlying aroma of sensual musk.
“Hello, Nadia.”
His deep voice plucked at her tightly stretched nerves. “Hey, Quentin.” She gave him a breezy smile that she hoped disguised her gut reaction to him. He looked . . . incredible. Most Were males were broad of chest and lean of hip, but Quentin elevated that eye-candy potential to a whole new level.
His somewhat careless choice of clothing only emphasized his innate virility. He’d dressed as she would picture him on the job. He wore a soft blue chambray shirt, collar open and cuffs folded back, along with a pair of jeans that fit him with heart-stopping precision.
By today’s standards, he needed a haircut, but the russet hair that brushed his collar only made him look sexy and unconventional. Quentin’s style was in stark contrast to his cousin Aidan, the Were she’d thought would be her mate for life.
While Aidan favored Armani suits, regular trips to a barber, and chauffeured Town Cars, Quentin looked as if he’d be happiest wearing a leather jacket and riding a Harley. Nadia wondered if that contrast might be part of Quentin’s appeal for her. She glanced into his hazel eyes and wished she hadn’t. They burned with the same fire that threatened to consume her.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m dying of thirst,” Roarke said. “And Quentin’s buying, so let’s get a move on.” He gestured toward the door.
“You’re buying?” Nadia congratulated herself on sounding as if she were one of the guys joining in the fun instead of a woman wallowing in a hotbed of hormones. “What’s the occasion?”
“Roarke’s flying to Oregon in the morning to take on Bigfoot. I offered to buy him a drink at Jessie’s before he left. He can think back on it while he’s trekking through the woods searching for that smelly animal, with not a single bar in sight.”
Nadia glanced at Roarke as he ushered her through the door ahead of him. “Somebody’s spotted Bigfoot again?”
“Unfortunately. Some old guy in Portland saw a mated pair, and the local pack asked me to use my cryptozoology credentials to discredit his discovery.”
“That seems kind of mean, Roarke, picking on an old guy like that.” Nadia’s four-inch heels sank into the plush gray carpet as she crossed the small lobby and started up the stairs.
“I know it sounds cold, but Bigfoot fanatics are overrunning the Were’s estate and threatening security. Besides, the Sasquatch shouldn’t be wandering around so close to civilization. Maybe I can move them to a more remote location.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “What about your classes at NYU? Didn’t the fall semester just start?” The mellow notes of a saxophone solo drifted down the stairs.
“Yeah, classes are in full swing,” Roarke said. “Fortunately I have a great TA and I don’t expect to be gone long. But Quentin sees my trip out there as some sort of major deal, so don’t disabuse him of that. I want my free drink.”
“It is a major deal,” Quentin said as he walked up the stairs behind them. “I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Bigfoot, and I don’t like the idea that this mated pair might be turned into a tourist attraction.”
Nadia had no trouble picturing Quentin as a defender of the big, hairy creatures that had little sense of self-preservation. She admired his good heart and his disinterest in lavish living, although he could well afford any luxury he desired.
She looked forward to sharing a table with him for a couple of hours. Judging from the way he’d looked at her when they’d met outside the club, he might be interested in more than that. Now that she had no ties, so was she.
At the top of the stairs stood a tall reception desk manned by Sylvester, Roarke’s and Quentin’s uncle. Tall and silver-haired, Sylvester looked as if he’d been born to wear a tuxedo. He set the perfect tone for Jessie’s sophisticated ambiance.
He smiled in welcome. “I noticed you didn’t arrive together, so was this a planned meeting or a happy coincidence?”
“Happy coincidence,” Roarke said.
Until that moment, Nadia had forgotten about the discreetly positioned security cameras focused on the street. Anyone in the vicinity of Jessie’s would show up on a monitor tucked behind Sylvester’s reception desk. The Wallace pack was extremely security conscious.
Nadia wished the Henderson pack would follow suit, beginning with their principal loose cannon, her little brother Theo. He was under house arrest for attempting to breach pack security last winter, but Nadia suspected Theo had figured out how to outsmart the outdated security system installed years ago at the Henderson mansion.
Sylvester checked the seating chart on his computer. “Will anyone else be joining you?”
“Not unless Nadia’s meeting someone here.” Roarke glanced at her. “I didn’t even think to ask.”
“Nope, I’m here alone. I invited my assistant, Sherry, along, but there was a play she was dying to see tonight.”
“A table for three, then.” Sylvester moved out from behind the reception desk. “Follow me.”
Walking behind Sylvester, Nadia moved through the arched doorway and sighed with delight. Jessie’s was like no other nightclub she’d ever seen.
Although she knew they were inside a brick building deep in the bowels of the city, her senses told her that she’d stepped into a forested glade. The Wallaces had connections in Hollywood, and they’d hired a special-effects team to create Jessie’s.
Trees arched overhead, and through the leafy branches glittered a star-filled sky. Loamy scents of moist earth mingled with evergreen and cedar. The rustic chairs looked as if someone had made them from twigs and branches found on the forest floor, and the tables were slabs of unfinished wood still ringed with bark.
A jazz trio perched on a grassy knoll filled the air with seductive music that beckoned patrons to an intimate dance floor. Nadia imagined herself dancing with Quentin, his muscled body brushing hers, and a wave of heat washed through her.
He probably wouldn’t ask her, though. He’d invited Roarke to have a drink with him, and dancing with her would mean leaving Roarke
to drink alone. Not good form.
Sylvester pulled out a chair facing the dance floor and the jazz trio. It was also the middle chair. “It’s a pleasure to have you here again, Nadia.”
“About time, too.” Roarke rounded the table to sit on her left and Quentin took the chair on her right. “I distinctly remember telling you at the wedding that you should call whenever you came to town. I can’t believe this is your first trip since then.”
“Actually, it is.” She used to visit New York more often when she’d thought it would become her home. Now that she wouldn’t be basing her clothing business here, she no longer had to scout out potential office and warehouse space.
Roarke settled into his chair and lowered his voice. “I’ll bet you’ve stayed close to home because of pack business. Rumor has it that you’ll be the next Henderson alpha.”
“You will?” Quentin seemed surprised. “I didn’t hear that.”
“It’s possible.” Nadia kept her voice low, too. Although she hadn’t scented any humans in the nightclub, they could walk in at any moment, so all Weres in Jessie’s had to be discreet. “My father’s always favored Theo for the job, but even he now realizes Theo’s not a good candidate.”
“No, he’s not.” Roarke shook his head. “I know he’s your brother, but he’s . . .”
“I think the clinical term is manic-depressive, but my parents haven’t accepted that quite yet. Still, my dad has listened to his advisors, who’ve convinced him that turning the pack over to Theo at any point in time would be a disaster.”
“And you’d be great in the position. I have always— Excuse me a minute. My phone’s vibrating.” Roarke pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the readout. “I need to take this. Order me an espresso martini, okay? I’ll be right back.” He left the table, walked across the room, and exited through the arched doorway.
A cocktail waitress dressed as a wood sprite arrived and took their order. Nobody mixed an espresso martini like Frederick, the bartender at Jessie’s, and Nadia looked forward to the treat as she ordered one for her and one for Roarke.
Werewolf in Greenwich Village: A Wild About You NovellaAn eSpecial from New American Library Page 1
