Wolf at the Door

by Christine Warren

  If she had counted on the element of surprise to give her an opportunity to escape, she needed a recount. She stretched and shivered, fur replaced with smooth skin, newly broadened palms planting themselves on the slate to help her slither away.

  They didn’t.

  She blinked, and he shifted with her. Though she had spent her entire life moving between forms, between worlds, and watching other shifters do it, too, she’d never been this close to anyone during the transformation. She’d never gotten to watch skin expand to envelop fur, bones shifting from animal to human, features shifting from muzzle to nose, jowls to lips. She’d never felt someone shift against her skin, tickling in ways she would have tickled him. It fascinated her, and put her just far enough off balance that her movements slowed to give him an advantage. Before she could scoot away, he dropped, his weight pinning her to the cold slate, legs between hers, hands darting to capture her wrists and pin them to the floor above her head.

  He smiled down at her then, and somehow the expression looked as feral on the human face as it had on the wolf. Her eyes widened, and she became acutely conscious of her nakedness as this man pressed intimately against her. She kept her gaze fastened on him as the grin widened and he dipped his head toward her throat. She braced herself for the pain of teeth in her flesh or the intimate lash of an exploring tongue, but instead he pressed his face to her skin and inhaled deeply.

  “God,” he growled, in a low, smoke-and-whiskey voice, “you smell so damned good. It’s been driving me crazy all night. I have to know if you taste half as delicious.”

  She felt his mouth open against her skin and parted her lips to scream.

  She opened her mouth. She even drew in breath, clenched her diaphragm and began to pass air through her vocal cords. The sound never made it any farther, though. Instead, Cassidy was taught a valuable lesson about the difficulty involved in screaming when a very determined Lupine had his mouth plastered against her own.

  His aggressive, warm, persuasive, delicious—

  Whoa-hoa-hoa, Nelly!

  Screaming seemed to be out of the question, but that didn’t mean Cassidy intended to remain quiet. She gave an indignant squeak instead. Right after she uncurled her toes and managed to convince some of her less independent bits that being pinned to the floor and kissed by a strange, naked man wasn’t really in her plans for the evening.

  Was it?

  “Mmfrmrrrf!” she squeaked again.

  Said strange, naked man responded with a rough growl and a sort of full-body shimmy that made her eyes roll back in her head. Then her hips arched in sympathy, and suddenly she remembered why she didn’t usually strip naked and make out with unfamiliar men on the roofs of Manhattan brownstones. The reminder currently pressed against her right thigh, making itself known to her in a rather pointed introduction.

  “Mmfrmm-mmkrfm!”

  She finally mustered enough common sense to make a play for freedom, shifting her wrists into paws and sliding free of his grasp before his reflexes could catch on and tighten his grip around her instantly smaller limbs. Trading on the element of surprise, she slithered free and scrambled a few feet away before he could do more than growl and curl his lip in a snarl.

  “Back off, Benji!” Her voice sounded husky and dense, as if she should maybe consider a new career in the field of adult telecommunications. But talking still beat kissing.

  In a responsible, it’s-not-nice-to-have-sex-with-total-strangers sort of way.

  “Did you just call me Benji?”

  She almost couldn’t understand the question. At first she thought it might be because he’d rumbled it through clenched teeth, but then she realized it had more to do with the fact that he wasn’t speaking English. He was speaking Lupine, and being a Foxwoman listening to Lupine was sort of like being an Italian listening to Spanish—you kinda-sorta got the gist of what was being said, but it sounded pretty darned weird all the same. Even when his words did sink in, they didn’t do much to calm her panic.

  “You’re right. Bad analogy.” She scooted a few inches farther away and drew her knees up to her chest, crossing her ankles to cover her pinker and not-for-public-consumption parts. “Benji was the mellow, acid-trip Lassie of the seventies. You’re more like a modern-day Cujo on meth.”

  “That’s twice. Twice in one bloody day someone has called me Cujo. Are you all Stephen King freaks in this godforsaken city?” He winced and shifted position, probably trying to make more room for his . . . um . . . point. “Try reading some Poe, by God, if you really want a fright.”

  Poe? Was that supposed to be a joke?

  He had switched to English, but it took a moment for Cassidy to catch on, because even that language sounded unfamiliar on his tongue. Then she figured it out. He had an accent. A shamrock-and-peat-brick accent that seemed to thicken with every growl. Her Lupine was Irish.

  Irish and Lupine.

  “Oh, shit.”

  According to her grandmother, the head of the international delegation honored by tonight’s party was Irish and Lupine. Damn it, why hadn’t she paid attention when Nana had rattled off the names of the delegates? At least then she’d know who she was showing all her beauty marks to.

  Cassidy scrabbled to her feet and began to calculate the distances between her, the door, and her downfall. But before she could finish, the Lupine rose, too, in a ripple of mouthwatering muscle.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t like Poe?”

  Honestly, what Cassidy didn’t like was the glint of determination in his wily predator’s eyes.

  “He’s . . . ah . . . he’s tintinnabul-icious,” she said, figuring a Poe fan might get the reference. She’d always loved the work of the mad writer whose name she shared. She edged backward, now too focused on escape to worry about clothes. In a battle between modesty and self-preservation, call her an exhibitionist every time.

  “Ah.”

  She watched a slow grin bloom across his face. She wasn’t comforted. In fact, she backed up another step.

  “Are you worried, then? Afraid I’m neither beast nor human?”

  He took a step closer, his body a symphony of coiled power, amber eyes catching the faint echo of lights from outside and seeming to ignite as they watched her.

  She shivered and tried to tell herself it came from being naked on a roof in January. Herself snorted. “You seem to have both those bases covered.”

  “I do,” he all but purred. If she hadn’t seen him shift with her own eyes, the deep, rough rumble might have made her wonder if he could be Felix instead of Lupine. It was that close to a purr. “But rest assured, I have much more interesting plans than locking myself up in a steeple with naught but a bellpull for company.”

  He’d taken her Poe reference and run with it, and she tried not to like the fact that he recognized “The Bells,” one of her favorite poems. She felt his gaze rake over her and fought against wishing it were his fingers. Her libido, however, started lighting birthday candles and taking deep breaths. Stupid hormones.

  “I can see that,” she said, trying quite hard not to see. Or at least not to stare. “But, uh . . . you might want to put a leash on ol’ King there before he slobbers all over someone.”

  A fang glinted silver in the moonlight. “Oh, but he’s ever so friendly. Wouldn’t you like to give him a pet, love?”

  Cassidy nearly swallowed her tongue. She also nearly hyperventilated at the images that offer sent racing through her mind. “Um, thanks, but my mother always taught me not to pet wild animals.”

  He stalked forward, eyes intent and amused. “No need to be afraid. I promise not to bite.” He paused, grin widening. “Much.”

  “Right. In that case, I promise not to scream.” She paused. “Too loudly.”

  The Lupine raised an eyebrow and made a point of looking around them with exaggerated thoroughness. “I’m afraid it looks as if the cavalry might have suffered a puncture, love. A flat tire, as you Yanks so elegantly put it. I don’t see
anyone coming to your rescue.”

  “What makes you think I need rescuing?” she bluffed, eyeing the short distance between herself and the door in her peripheral vision. “I’m not the one who has to hunt in a pack and let someone else have the first taste of my prey.”

  Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

  Cassidy ignored the blaring alarms in her head and the narrowing of the Lupine’s eyes. Apparently, the warranty on her common sense had just expired. She couldn’t think of any other logical explanation to justify the next words that came out of her mouth. Well, aside from suicidal tendencies, which she’d never exhibited before.

  “And the last time I looked, of the two people in this greenhouse, I was not the overgrown, oversexed golden retriever who seems to have missed one too many obedience classes.”

  She was already running before the growl rumbled any farther north than his sternum. Once again, she had to count on surprise to give her an edge as she bolted for the door. She reached it at a dead run and slammed it open. The tinkling clatter of breaking glass didn’t slow her down. She didn’t even bother to look, just put her head down, said a swift prayer for strength and launched herself into another change as she charged out of the greenhouse and across the moonlit rooftop.

  She wished fervently for an eclipse, a storm cloud, a really big shuttle coming into LaGuardia Airport. Anything that would block out the pale glow of the moon and give her a few shadows to hide in. The Lupine wouldn’t have had that much trouble seeing through the darkness, but at this point, Cassidy was ready to take any small advantage she could get.

  Gulping for air, she flew across the black-tarred concrete, claws clicking in a frantic rhythm. Around her, she heard the sounds of Manhattan drifting up toward them and the rasping, growling breath of the animal chasing her. She’d seen too many movies to bother looking back. She kept her eyes straight ahead and prayed some more.

  She was just beginning to wonder if she should consider converting to another faith—one where the chief deity actually listened in an emergency—when she saw the gates of salvation opening before her.

  Well, actually, she saw a skylight on the far side of the roof that was propped open just far enough for a very small, very determined, and very willing-to-suck-it-in fox to fit through. Just then, it might as well have been pearly white and guarded by Saint Peter, it looked so good.

  Giving a sharp yip, she dove, eyes squeezing shut as she felt and heard the snap of powerful jaws just inches from her hind leg. If she had needed her coat trimmed, he’d have had her. But she made it, by the skin of her everything, flinging herself headfirst through the narrow opening of the skylight and wriggling the rest of the way faster than a chipmunk in a nut-eating contest.

  She landed on all fours with a thud, breathless and dizzy with exertion. She’d been braced for impact, but her messages must have finally gotten through to the powers that be, because she landed and bounced on a superfirm mattress in one of the private rooms somewhere on the upper floors of the Vircolac Club. The bed didn’t even squeak when she shifted back to human, just dipped and recovered, leaving her crouched in a puddle of down-filled duvet, while above her a howl of pure frustration rose over the city and echoed in the crisp winter air.

  Four

  “Um, hello?”

  Grabbing a corner of the duvet, Cassidy twitched it over her to cover the most vital spots and looked toward the sound of the greeting. A woman stood in the doorway of the bedroom, one hand on the doorframe while the other adjusted the chic wire-rimmed glasses that perched on the end of her nose.

  Cassidy tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t the color of ripe pomegranates and forced a smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The brunette gave a casual smile, as if she walked into rooms occupied by unknown naked women every day.

  “I, ah—I guess you must be wondering what I’m doing here . . .” Cassidy struggled to think of a plausible explanation and turned up a big, fat nada.

  “Not really.” The brunette smiled and closed the door behind her, not sparing Cassidy another glance as she crossed to the small dresser placed against the bedroom wall. “If I were here with your grandmother, I’d need a few minutes of peace and quiet myself.” The woman gave a short chuckle. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Cassidy shrugged deeper into the duvet and resigned herself to an unusual evening. As if she often had any other kind. “Um, do you know my grandmother? Or, um, me?”

  “Dame Berry? Only by reputation. I’ve met her a time or two, when the pack and the Council have had reason to meet up, but I doubt she’d remember me. Same with you, which I think proves my point.”

  Cassidy took a discreet breath and smelled the Lupine on the other woman. Good thing the stranger didn’t have an accent, or she might really have freaked.

  “Silverback?” she guessed.

  The brunette nodded, took a small book from the dresser drawer, then turned back to Cassidy and smiled.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. Just because I know you, that doesn’t mean you know me.” She held out her hand. “Annie Cryer. And there’s no reason you should know me. My wandering around the place has more to do with the fact that I’m friends with the Alpha’s wife than that I’m someone important. I’m just pack rank-and-file. Your average growl next door.”

  Cassidy pinned the duvet to her chest with her left arm and shook Annie’s hand with the right, smiling at the Lupine’s sense of humor. Especially given the circumstances. “Cassidy Poe.”

  “Oh, I know. In these parts your family is a little like the Kennedys are to humans.”

  “Don’t say that where my grandmother can hear you. She doesn’t need the encouragement.”

  Annie laughed. “She doesn’t seem to, does she?” She watched Cassidy adjust the duvet yet again. “You look like you’ve had an interesting evening. Did you leave your clothes in the bathroom? I could leave you to get changed. Or run in and get them for you, if you want.”

  “Ah . . . no. They’re not in the bathroom.” Cassidy grimaced. “It’s a long story, but I’m afraid I lost them.”

  “You lost your clothes.”

  “Yeah. There was a . . . an . . . incident. I have an emergency change of clothes in my car, but I’m going to have to figure out how to get to it without, you know, getting arrested.”

  Or being seen by Nana.

  “You have a car in Manhattan?”

  The question about the car sounded more incredulous than the one about the clothes had. Only in New York.

  “Yeah. I like to get away from the city on weekends. Stretch my legs. And my tail.”

  “I know the feeling. Sometimes Central Park just doesn’t cut it, does it?”

  “Not so much.”

  Annie shared a commiserating smile and gestured toward the door. “If you tell me where you’re parked—and what patron saint you use to get a parking space in this neighborhood—I’d be happy to run down and get them for you. Or if you don’t want to give me your keys, I’m sure I can scrounge up something for you to wear so you can get them yourself.”

  Cassidy groaned. “Shit. Keys.”

  “Oops. Are they with your clothes?”

  Cassidy shook her head and slumped back onto the bed. “They’re on the roof.”

  “On the roof? Your keys or your clothes?”

  “Um, both, I assume. In the greenhouse. Fat lot of good the clothes will do me now, though. They’re probably shredded.”

  Annie’s eyes widened and her voice took on mingled notes of shock and admiration. “Okay. You have had an interesting night.”

  “In the Chinese sense of the word. Yeah.”

  The other woman paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  The laugh came out before Cassidy could stop it, even though she wasn’t quite sure what she found funny. “Thanks, but honestly, I’m trying not to think about it.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, tugging the duvet with her. “I think I’m goi
ng to have to go back up on the roof and get my keys, if I ever want to get home. Did you mean it when you said you might have some clothes I could borrow? I don’t think we’re the same size, but I’m not going to look a gift sweatshirt in the mouth.”

  Annie smiled and headed back to the dresser. “Sure. They’re not mine, though. They’re emergency stock the Luna of our pack keeps here in the guest room. When she first met our Alpha, she found herself needing to borrow clothes a few times, so she always makes sure to keep a few things available in case someone else ends up in a similar situation. When you lead a pack, someone is always turning up on the doorstep looking the worse for wear.”

  Cassidy just nodded, absorbing the chatter and gratefully accepting the mismatched garments Annie handed to her.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. You look like you’re about a ten, so I hope those aren’t too big.”

  “Twelve. But I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.” Annie grinned. “You know where the stairs to the roof are, right? Of course you do. How else would you have gotten down here?”

  Cassidy paused on her way to the bathroom door Annie had indicated.

  “Um . . . actually . . . I’ve got a pretty lousy sense of direction.” She forced a smile and tried to sound sheepish. Which wasn’t too difficult, come to think of it. “Could you just refresh my memory before you go?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you. This place is riddled with hallways and weird hidden doors.” The brunette made shooing motions toward the bathroom. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll wait here.”

  It only took Cassidy a minute to tug on the soft navy sweatpants and the lighter blue sweatshirt. She avoided looking in the mirror, sure her hair had to be a rat’s nest, and instead glanced down at her bare feet. Rose-polished toes shone up at her, and she gave a rueful smile.

  Told you so, Nana.

  Rubbing her hands over her face—damn . . . there goes the mascara—she took one deep breath and headed back into the bedroom. Time to get her keys, change into the emergency clothes she kept in her trunk, and get the hell out of Dodge before anything else could go wrong tonight.