Werewolf in Manhattan

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Fiona drank more wine. “Logically the chemistry should have been there. We had both their birth charts done. We brought them together several times as children so they’d have a shared history. They’re both beautiful. It should have worked.”

  “It did, in a way. They’re fast friends.”

  “I still wonder, though, if you hadn’t come along…”

  Emma shook her head. “You can pin lots of things on me, but I’m the savior in that situation. Those two would have had a boring, miserable life together fulfilling what they saw as their duty to both packs. You would have made your son into a martyr, and I can already tell you’re not the kind of mother who would want that.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m the kind of mother who wants the best for her son.” She gazed at Emma over the top of her wine glass. “And whether I like it or not, he seems to have chosen you.”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “Yes, he has, Emma. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. First there’s the attraction of scent, and then there’s the sexual exploration phase. Last of all there’s the binding.”

  “The binding?”

  “Yes. If you have to ask what that is, it hasn’t happened between you two yet. But I predict it won’t be long judging from Aidan’s behavior. He shows all the signs of a werewolf seeking a binding experience.”

  The wine had definitely taken its toll and loosened Emma’s tongue. “The thing is, Aidan’s promised me I won’t end up having to stay here.” She realized belatedly that sounded ungracious. “Not that it isn’t lovely, but I have a whole other life.”

  Fiona laid a hand on her arm. “Emma, much as it pains me to say this, I predict your life is about to be joined with Aidan’s.”

  Emma opened her mouth to protest that unsettling prediction, but dinner was announced. Aidan came to take her in, and after two glasses of wine, she was glad for a strong arm to lean on. She had much to think about. If Aidan truly loved her and wanted her to stay, would she? Would she have to give up everything else—her career, her mother, her friends? Fiona almost made it sound as if she wouldn’t have a choice in the matter, but she wasn’t about to abandon her independence, not even for Aidan.

  “I caught a little of the conversation you were having with my mother, but not all of it,” he said as they walked into the dining room with its immensely long table. Fortunately the places had been grouped at one end so they wouldn’t have to shout at each other during the meal.

  “All things considered, she’s been very gracious.” Emma glanced up at him. “Although she’s not happy about it, she claims you show all the signs of a werewolf seeking a binding, whatever that is.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Of course I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

  “I do.” Aidan helped her into a chair at the table. “And she’s wrong.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Of course he wouldn’t consider marriage to a non-Were. That simplified things, and no, she wasn’t disappointed to discover she was right and Fiona was wrong. Well, maybe a little, but this was for the best. Deciding to live for the moment, she proceeded to enjoy one of the most delicious meals she’d ever had the pleasure of eating.

  A binding. As always, his mother could read his moods better than anyone. He’d been fantasizing that very thing ever since that first night of sex with Emma, but he was determined to reject the concept.

  Fiona had some good reasons for being unhappy with the idea, and he would honor those reasons. No human had ever been bound to a member of the Wallace pack and Aidan wasn’t about to be the groundbreaker with that concept. He wasn’t about to put his parents through the drama of it.

  As the meal progressed, Emma seemed to be having a great time, but one family dinner didn’t a lifetime make. She would always be an outsider here, and she’d never accept the kind of restrictions on her lifestyle that a binding would dictate.

  As his mate she’d be privy to all the secrets of the pack, and pack members wouldn’t be at all happy with that. They’d demand that she be sequestered here on the estate, and his parents would probably demand it, as well. Emma already knew more than was good for her. Binding her to him would be a supreme act of selfishness on his part.

  Wine flowed during dinner as it had before dinner. His parents were excellent hosts and Aidan remembered many a dinner party where the entire table had been filled…with Weres. After dinner the tradition was for pack members to shift and take a run through the woods.

  As the plates were cleared after dessert and the after-dinner liqueurs were being savored, Aidan’s mother rose and came around to his chair. “I’m sure Emma must be tired.”

  Aidan glanced over at Emma. “Are you tired?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Even so.” Fiona’s voice was gently insistent. “I think it’s time Aidan showed you to your room.” The message was clear. It was time for the outsider to make herself scarce.

  Aidan braced himself for an argument from Emma. To his surprise she smilingly agreed and pushed back her chair with a convincing and ladylike yawn. The tension eased from his shoulders. If she’d take her cues that willingly, convincing his parents to grant her freedom might not be so difficult.

  Aidan tucked his linen napkin beside his plate and stood.

  “I had Angelina put Emma’s things in the blue room,” his mother said.

  “All right.” The blue room was at the opposite end of the house from his room, and his mother had surely done that on purpose.

  “What a fabulous meal,” Emma said as he walked with her toward the winding stone staircase leading up to the second floor. “I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”

  “Did you think we’d throw some bloody bones on the floor and start gnawing on them?”

  “No, of course not.” She glanced at him as they mounted the wide staircase side-by-side. “Well, maybe. You’re free to do whatever you want here, after all.”

  “And what we want is a civilized meal complete with the good silver and excellent wine. We gave up raw meat two hundred years ago.”

  “I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

  “No insult taken.” But he was in a mood, and he knew it. He was facing sexual deprivation, and he’d discovered that he didn’t like the idea one damned bit.

  “Aidan, I know this must be awkward for you. Just so you know, I plan to keep well away from you for however many days I’m here.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and he turned to her. “That won’t be hard to do. The bedroom my mother chose for you is at the end of the hall going that way.” He pointed to his left. “And mine is at the end of the hall going that way.” He pointed to his right.

  “And there are hidden cameras in the chandeliers.”

  “Uh-huh. Placed there by yours truly. Unless I want to be caught on camera, I won’t be paying you a visit tonight.”

  “That’s for the best.”

  “Easy for you to say. Come on. I’ll show you to your room.” He started down the carpeted hallway lined with antique sconces and old photographs.

  “Oh, wait!” She paused in front of a sepia-toned picture. “This looks like a bunch of prospectors!”

  “My prospecting ancestors. The Alaska Gold Rush made them rich.”

  “These prospectors are werewolves?”

  “A little-known fact of history. Or make that a carefully guarded secret of history. Werewolves make excellent prospectors and miners. They can smell the gold and they have the endurance to live under primitive conditions.”

  “So who’s this guy?” She pointed to a formal picture of a man in a grey morning coat and pinstriped trousers.

  “That’s Irving Gentry. He moved his pack from Alaska down to the Portland area around the turn of the twentieth century. Made a mint in shipping. His descendants are involved in several Pacific Rim business ventures.”

  “Do the Gentrys own a chunk of Portland, then?”

  “I think that’s fair to say. They’r
e pretty influential there, and I think a branch of the pack is now in Seattle, too.”

  “What other cities are dominated by Weres?”

  He hesitated. “I wonder how much of this I should be telling you.”

  “You brought up trust earlier today. It goes both ways, Aidan. You have to trust me, too. After monitoring my life for three months, you must have some idea of my trustworthiness.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re trustworthy. I just have some other people to convince.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, to answer your question, San Francisco and Denver. The Stillmans have holdings all over Colorado, in fact. I’ve heard rumors of a Stillman split because one faction wants to expand to Salt Lake City and another one likes the Jackson Hole area of Wyoming. Weres go where there are deep woods and plenty of economic opportunity.”

  Emma nodded. “Makes sense.” Then her eyes widened. “Omigod. Are there werewolves in Congress?”

  That made him laugh. “No. We contribute to campaigns, but we stay completely out of politics.”

  “Why?”

  “Think about it. The media follows politicians everywhere. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

  “No, I suppose not.” She wandered to the next picture. “Who’s—”

  “Emma, I don’t mean to hustle you along, but unless I’m back downstairs soon, I’ll be asked what took me so long. Then I’m screwed no matter what I say. If I tell them the truth, they’ll worry that I’ve given you too much information about our history. If I’m evasive they’ll think we were up here making out.”

  “Then let’s get going.” She turned immediately and started down the hall. “Is it the room on the left or the room on the right?”

  “On the left.”

  “Oh! Does that mean I have a balcony?”

  She sounded so eager about it that his foul mood lifted a little. “Yes, Juliet, you have a balcony.” And that gave him an idea that lifted his mood a little more.

  Cameras were trained on the house, of course, and on each balcony, as well, but the lens didn’t pick up every single inch of the railing. And he knew where the blind spots were.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Aidan left without kissing her, which Emma thought was very wise. He didn’t need to go back downstairs with extra hair curling out of the front of his shirt. These people—or rather, these werewolves—were his family. They knew better than anyone that he had a genetic predisposition to shift when aroused.

  Poor werewolf. Guys had it tough, anyway, having to worry about whether a telltale bulge in their jeans would announce their intentions. In addition to that, Aidan had to worry about growing hair and fangs.

  Closing the door to the room that had been assigned to her, Emma took a look around. Now this was what she called a bedroom. A large and ornate four-poster with a canopy was to be expected in a mansion, she supposed. The deep blue velvet hangings tied back with gold cords that could be released to create a cocoon of luxury must be standard mansion décor.

  But the bed was only the beginning. It took up about a third of the space, which left room for a cozy seating area in front of a blazing fire. Bookshelves on either side of the fireplace contained both leather-bound classics and current bestsellers in hardback. Many of her favorites were there, along with some she’d been meaning to read.

  The blaze in the marble fireplace was real, and a small supply of wood in a copper tub on the hearth invited her to enjoy the fire through the night. Two wingback chairs upholstered in a blue and white print flanked a small walnut coffee table. The table held a tray containing an insulated carafe filled with—if her nose didn’t deceive her—fresh coffee.

  A small pitcher of cream sat next to the carafe, along with a plate of six chocolate truffles on a white paper doily. Emma bit into one and discovered it was her favorite flavor, espresso. Aidan had indeed been paying attention during those three months of surveillance.

  Taking another small bite of the truffle, she wandered over to the door leading into the bathroom and sighed with pleasure. A claw-foot tub was another item on her wish list for the future, and this one looked deep enough to sink up to her chin in bubbles. A dark wood and marble vanity surrounded a sink hand-painted with forget-me-nots.

  All the amenities she could ever want were clustered in a basket on the vanity, including bubble bath. A thick white robe hung on a hook next to the tub. If she couldn’t have Aidan tonight, she could relax in a warm bath and sit in front of the fire with a book, a cup of hot coffee, and the rest of the truffles.

  She might as well unpack and get comfy. Back in the room she opened a closet and found her orange suitcase and her laptop case on a shelf. Her clothes had been neatly hung in a row, with the exception of what she’d already worn. No doubt those items were in the mansion’s laundry being washed and pressed.

  Because her makeup bag was nowhere in sight, she returned to the bathroom and opened a drawer in the vanity. Sure enough, there it was, along with a hair dryer. She’d bet the mansion had its own generator and water supply so that the place could be totally self-sufficient.

  She was literally out in the middle of nowhere. No one, not her mother, her girlfriends, or her publisher, knew where she was, or would even be worried about her. They thought she’d been spirited away to a tropical island by one of NYC’s most eligible bachelors.

  Her isolation wasn’t causing her to freak out, exactly, but she was impressed by how thoroughly the Wallaces were able to close themselves off from the rest of the world, except…for the Internet.

  Racing back to the closet, she flung open the door and grabbed her laptop case where it sat on the shelf next to her suitcase. It felt too light. Heart pounding, she unzipped it, knowing that she’d find it empty. They’d taken her laptop.

  She checked the pocket where she kept her backup jump drive, and that was gone, too.

  Not cool. They’d stolen her book ideas. They’d swiped her research notes, and emails that she needed to answer, and…damn it! Taking her laptop and jump drive was like ripping out her heart, and she wasn’t putting up with that for even one second, let alone a whole night.

  She’d been a good sport up until now, but they were going to give her back that laptop, and they were going to do it tout suite or heads would roll. She didn’t care if Aidan’s mother had implied that Emma should go to her room like a good little girl and stay there until morning. She wasn’t going to rest until she had her laptop back.

  As she walked into the hallway, she listened for the sound of voices and heard nothing. But the house was huge, so not hearing voices didn’t mean the place was empty. She’d start with Aidan’s bedroom.

  Marching to the end of the hall, she took her best guess and opened the door to her right, which would be the other balcony room. The minute she stepped inside, she knew it belonged to Aidan. She was no werewolf when it came to scent, but she’d grown fond of his and she picked it up immediately.

  A light was on beside the large bed, also a four-poster and canopy arrangement similar to hers. The room was appointed much like hers, too, although manly greens and browns predominated. Aidan had a balcony, too, and a fireplace with two wingbacks and a coffee table arranged in front of it. Logs were laid for a fire, but it wasn’t lit and the room felt vacant.

  Even so, she called his name. No one answered. Then she noticed something she’d missed in her first scan of her surroundings. The white dress shirt and dark slacks he’d had on when he’d left her in her room were draped across the end of the bed.

  But there was no light on in the bathroom and no sound of splashing water. Then, from somewhere outside, she heard the howl of a wolf. Running to the French doors leading to the balcony, she found them unlocked. With the best security system money could buy, the Wallaces didn’t need locks.

  She opened the doors and stepped out, gasping as a cold wind sliced through her. Below her on the cobblestone driveway three wolves paced restlessly by the front door. She forgot t
he cold as she stood watching them, totally mesmerized.

  Only a short while ago she’d sat at an elegantly appointed table and held a conversation about world events with these three. And now…they were wolves. Despite never seeing any of them in this form, Emma instantly identified each one.

  Howard had to be the large white wolf who kept watching the front door, while Fiona, smaller and sporting a gleaming black coat, stayed close by. Roarke’s blonde fur made him look ghostly white in the lamp’s glow as he romped around in playful abandon, as if enjoying the fresh night air. The white wolf howled again, impatiently.

  Then Aidan joined them, his dark brown coat tipped with silver looking as magnificent as she remembered. He hadn’t come through the front door, so she had to assume there was another way in and out. Instead of a doggie door, they must have a wolfie door.

  One of these wolves knew where her laptop was, but she couldn’t exactly call out and ask them. Making her presence known at all might cause all sorts of bad things to happen, including imminent death, which she would very much like to avoid. Aidan wouldn’t kill her, but she wasn’t so sure about the other three.

  As if some signal had passed through the group, they loped off into the dark woods with the white wolf in the lead. Aidan was easily as big as his father, and Emma found some comfort in that. Howard had seniority, though, and in a wolf pack that counted for quite a bit. She’d researched it.

  When they were out of sight, she retreated into Aidan’s bedroom and closed the French doors. Man, it was cold out there. How could they stand it? But she supposed as wolves they had those gorgeous fur coats on.

  If they’d gone for a run in the woods, that gave her a chance to search for her laptop. Moving quickly, she left Aidan’s bedroom and headed for the stairs. During dinner she’d learned the mansion had ten bedrooms in addition to the obligatory billiard room, library, and conservatory, which she had to assume contained a bunch of exotic plants. She felt like Miss Scarlett in a game of Clue.