by Sierra Dean
It felt like we rose for an eternity. Mr. Rain’s hand slid under the base of my short jacket and shirt and grazed my bare skin. I wanted to slap him for his forwardness until I realized that the tension had completely drained from me just at the thrill of direct content. His faintest touch had soothed the beast within. My wolf was no longer panicked.
Boy did I ever have questions for this guy.
I’d met werewolves in the past and had killed two out of necessity, but none of them had created this surreal wave of tranquility in me.
“Who are you, anyway?” The words slipped from my mouth in a breathless whisper, all of my abrasive rage lifted from my voice. The other two wolves exchanged a glance.
“I am Lucas Rain,” he said, as if it were just any normal name and he was just any normal guy introducing himself to a girl for the first time.
A breath caught in my throat, and I swayed from the shock of learning his true identity. How stupid could I have been to miss it? Mr. Rain? Rain Hotel? God, I was slipping. This was the Lucas Rain, an intensely private billionaire real-estate magnate.
He had, as rumor held, bought the Boston Red Sox as a twenty-first birthday gift to himself. He never showed his face in public. Page Six only published blurry photos of him in baseball caps or hooded coats.
Models constantly insisted on having bedded him, but none of their stories aligned well enough to establish where he kept his permanent residence. The only thing they could all agree on was he was a vigorous and gifted lover, and never asked for second dates.
Conjecture and mystery surrounded everything about the Rain family. Lucas’s father, Jeremiah, and his father before him, had each been just as secretive and shut-in as Lucas now was. The only Rain descendant who relished the spotlight was Lucas’s sister, Kellen, who put the Hilton sisters to shame with her debaucherous public antics. Lucas was like a ghost, nothing known about him for certain. But here I was, standing side by side with him, and if his touch was any indication, he was more real than any ghost I’d ever encountered.
I also knew the reason he cherished his secrecy as deeply as I did my own. There was something that Lucas had kept hidden from the prying eyes of humankind for his whole life, and I was already in on the secret.
For a werewolf native to New York state and specifically New York City proper, the name of Lucas Rain was held in reverence for a completely different reason, one that would never be published in the tabloid columns.
I was in an elevator with Lucas Rain, the werewolf king of the East.
Chapter Seven
The elevator doors opened with a sigh, and I stumbled out away from Lucas and Desmond. Dominick stayed in the elevator, waiting to see what was about to unfold. I had not previously been afraid for my safety, but it was now occurring to me that if anyone wanted to make me disappear with no questions asked, it was Lucas Rain. He had the wealth and the power to make it happen. I broke into a cold sweat.
This did not go unnoticed.
“Why are you afraid? That’s not the reaction I’m used to getting. Unless of course someone has done something to wrong me. I don’t even know you, so I don’t think you have a reason to fear me.” He looked genuinely puzzled.
The doors had opened onto a private floor, and I was all alone with these men. Having my gun offered me little comfort, apart from knowing headshots would kill werewolves. But the memory of the threat in Desmond’s eyes, and knowing how easy it had been for him to take the weapon once, left me unsure of my chances against three creatures whose individual skills nearly equaled my own.
On a good day I was stronger than the average werewolf, but I wasn’t stronger than three male wolves in their prime. I reached down into the depths of my psyche and tried to yank my vampire awake to no avail. Outside, the pale gray hues of the warning dawn were painting the sky, and the vampire part of me, for all intents and purposes, was dead to the world. Fuck. That left me with werewolf instinct and the training Keaty had given me.
Lucas stepped forward and looked at me the way a human observes a caged animal that was in danger of hurting itself.
“Would it make you feel safer to be here if you could call someone and tell them where you are before we continue?”
The man was a born politician and problem solver. It was little wonder that at only twenty-six he was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and, more impressive than all that, was the sole monarch to a secret civilization of thousands. The offer was so simple. It was the exact right thing for him to say.
I was unaccustomed to civility in my line of work.
“Umm, yes, actually.” I cocked my head to the side, trying my best to understand what he really wanted from me. Outright asking him seemed too…obvious?
“I’m afraid your cell won’t work up here. Everything gets routed through the landlines. Desmond will show you to the study. We have a phone there. You can have all the time and privacy you would like. Then you can join me upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” I gazed around, getting a better look at my surroundings, not grasping the full size of his living quarters.
“Yes. I own the building, so I took the top three floors for myself. An oasis above the city. It makes it easier to stay home when home is this size, I guess.”
“And no cell phones is a big factor in maintaining your oasis?”
“I just don’t like them. I have one, but I find it’s more of a distraction than anything else. My personal time is limited for obvious reasons, and I’ve taken measures to make sure I can enjoy it in peace.”
“I see.” I wasn’t sure I did.
“Before I leave you I have to ask, and I hope it doesn’t seem rude coming so late in the game. What is your name?”
I almost laughed. At this point it felt like I’d been with him for days, and it was an adjustment for me to find someone who didn’t guess who I was within moments of meeting me.
“Secret.” Then to assure him I wasn’t just coyly avoiding telling him my name, I added, “Secret McQueen.”
“McQueen,” he repeated, casting a glance at Desmond. “Well now. Isn’t that interesting?”
“Makes sense.” Desmond shrugged. But I saw his color pale.
I hadn’t encountered that many werewolves in my time in the city and had only been formally introduced to one of them. Funny that Desmond’s reaction was almost identical to that of the other wolf I’d met—cavalier but uneasy. It didn’t bode well. If they had any intention of explaining what the revelation meant, it didn’t show. Instead, Lucas bid me a temporary farewell with a nod, and Dominick trailed after him into the depths of the apartment. The main floor was a labyrinth of locked doors and long black hallways. I had not yet seen a window, and the whole area was lit by majestic stone chandeliers.
Desmond set off down a hallway, anticipating that I would follow.
“So…” I began, not sure if he would be open to conversation. “Are you and Dominick his…bodyguards?”
Desmond stopped in front of an open doorway, his tall, lean body filling its frame. He gave me an assessing look like he wasn’t sure what to make of me. “It’s true, then, what Lucas said. You really are ignorant of the ways of your own people.”
I bristled. “Wolves are not people.”
His eyes locked on mine in the unnerving way he was proving to be a pro at. “Wolves are just better versions of people. At least, unlike ghouls or vampires, we are still alive.” I knew this wasn’t an attack because he didn’t know what I was, but I took offense anyway.
“At least vampires don’t feel the need to burst free of their own skin once a month to go chase rabbits in the moonlight.”
He raised the corner of his lip, hinting at a smile but not fulfilling it. “You’re going to prove to be a complicated addition to the pack.” Then he sighed. “I am not Lucas’s bodyguard. Dominick is his personal protection, yes. I am Lucas’s second-in-command. His lieutenant.”
I didn’t need to be a part of the werewolf pack to know this was a position of great
importance. I also wasn’t stupid enough to ignore how I’d insulted him with my naivety.
“Desmond, I’m sorry. If I’ve offended you or your position in any way, it was unintentional.”
He seemed to relax a little.
“You have my word that any future insults will be much more personalized and meant only for you,” I added with a smile so wide he could not mistake my joking for malice. For reasons I couldn’t name, I didn’t want Desmond to dislike me.
How strange this night had become.
He moved from the doorway to let me enter the study. “I hope you’re given the opportunity to insult me again in the future. From whatever position you’d like.”
As he left the room I couldn’t help suspecting he was flirting with me.
I placed two phone calls before leaving the study. The first was to Keaty, who answered after only two rings. I spared the details of how I’d come to be in Lucas’s hotel room, but informed him I was having a tête-à-tête with the werewolf king. He understood the gravity of the situation and told me if I didn’t call him by noon he would personally dethrone Lucas. In a permanent way.
The second call was to my friend Mercedes Castilla. Detective Mercedes Castilla, she often reminded me. Cedes was one of the few cops who actually believed in the things that went bump in the night. She was smart enough not to share her liberal beliefs with those around her, but it gave her the unique advantage of calling a spade a spade. Or in this case, a fang a fang.
It also meant that she understood when human justice would not prevail and would call me to do the dirty work.
Mercedes did not fully understand what I was. Explaining my genetic makeup to her would have confused and terrified her, so I had bided my time until I knew which of my monsters was the lesser of two evils to her. For the first year of our friendship I had only let on that I was a bounty hunter who was, perhaps, not altogether human. After a rogue slaying in which I’d needed her help covering up some evidence, she called me to say, “Bloodsuckers had it coming. They weren’t even alive anyway. Good for you.”
Crestfallen that the forward-thinking Mercedes was so willing to pigeonhole an entire race, I begrudgingly confessed the other half of my bloodline to her instead. The half I was not so willing to embrace.
While she didn’t get how one could be half werewolf, and I could do little to better explain it, she accepted my lycanthrope half was a part of me, like her Puerto Rican half was of her. It also meant I had to grin and bear it when she lambasted vampires as being mindless killing machines, which she was a fan of doing. She was especially displeased about the constant nocturnal presence of Holden in my life, after I’d admitted that he was my undead liaison.
Telling her I was in Lucas Rain’s penthouse, however, thrilled her to no end.
“Ohmigod, is he as handsome as they say? As rich? Have you slept with him? Are you going to? What does he look like?” This string of tween-girl gibberish was coming from a hardened detective who was, as much as she loathed acknowledging it, several years past her dreaded thirtieth birthday. This year would be her fourth twenty-ninth birthday, meaning she’d been twenty-nine as long as I’d known her.
And she thought vampires had issues.
“Cedes, breathe please. If I was here to get it on with Lucas Rain, I don’t think I’d be on the phone with you.” It was at this unfortunate moment Desmond chose to return. A smile tilted the corner of his lips, and it vanished as quickly when I said, “I just want you to know that if I don’t call you by noon, something bad has happened to me. Tell the police to look here first.”
“Bad? What do you mean? Secret, what’s going on?” If I was willing to involve the police, she knew it had to be serious. “Did you call Mr. Keats about this?”
I assured her everything was fine and I was only being careful, but something else had already occurred to her.
“Before you hang up, do you happen to know anything about a girl who got attacked in Central Park tonight? She’s in a holding cell right now because they’re worried she’s lost her shit. She keeps saying something about how a skinny blonde woman rescued her from a monster. She’s using the V word.”
I tensed. I wasn’t worried the police would believe the girl’s story about a vampire assailant. Other people had made the same claim, and nothing ever came of it. But she wasn’t the first to mention a vigilante blonde saving the day. At the police stations across New York, a less-than-pleasant nickname had begun circling.
“The boys are saying it’s Buffy to the rescue again.” She was teasing me, well aware this would get my goat. I gripped the handset so tightly the strong plastic began to buckle.
Desmond must have felt my agitation because he stepped farther into the room, keeping a watchful eye on me in case my annoyance manifested itself more aggressively. I raised my hand to let him know I was fine.
“Cedes, can you please do what I’ve asked?”
“Was Mr. Keats worried?”
“Keaty never worries unless I worry. I’m not worried, I’m just being smart.”
She chuckled. “You need to learn to enjoy life more. You’re at a billionaire’s penthouse and you’re calling to check in. You don’t need a chaperone. Get your freak on!”
I sighed.
“Okay, okay. But call me if tonight turns into a weekend getaway to Ibiza.”
It would be unwise for me to tell her that she would never see me in the daylight, let alone roasting on the sand with the UV worshipers, and I couldn’t tell her that a trip to Ibiza’s sun-kissed beaches would kill me. That was if the werewolf king didn’t kill me first.
I hung up the phone and faced Desmond. “I’m ready.”
Boy was that the biggest lie I’d told all night.
Chapter Eight
I followed Desmond up a circular staircase, allowing my mind to drift as we moved towards the upper floors of Lucas’s lair. In the well-tailored dark denim jeans Desmond was wearing, I could appreciate what was on display, and the rear view was definitely worth a good long look. He walked with the self-assured grace that all lycanthropes, myself included, possessed. I often took my own agility for granted but always marveled at it in others. His every step was light and easy; his feet barely touched the stairs. By the time we reached the top step I had almost forgotten what awaited me, I was so mesmerized by his butt.
But there it was, a long hall leading to a large set of open double doors made of a dark wood. The instant I saw them they made me uneasy, because I associated doors like that with bad news. Within I could see the flickering light of a fire. My heart caught in my throat, my mind racing with questions.
“Go ahead,” said Desmond, and then he left me.
I walked down the corridor with halting, heavy footsteps. I was fighting the urge to draw my gun as I entered the room with more than a little apprehension. Calling it a master bedroom would have been such an understatement that I bypassed the word in lieu of more spectacular synonyms. The room was palatial. Its size eclipsed that of my whole apartment, which wasn’t actually a big accomplishment given that I rented a one-bedroom basement suite.
An Olympic swimming pool could fit in there with space to spare. The scope of the suite was overwhelming, and it was just one room of many.
“Welcome,” Lucas greeted me, rising from a large, beautiful and expensive-looking mahogany desk. The room contained a sitting area in front of the fire with two couches, as well as a bed that looked wider than king size, but instead of ushering me to either of them he motioned to the leather chair across from his desk. We both sat.
He wanted me to know this was all business, and I appreciated that. Given the reaction he’d caused in my groin earlier, any place where lying down was an option was not somewhere I wanted to have our conversation.
I didn’t trust myself around him when it came to my more primal urges. I was at obvious risk to giving in to him. I just had to look at him and I knew he could easily have any woman he wanted. He had the charming allure of a ma
n who was accustomed to getting his way.
In spite of all his wealth and responsibility, Lucas Rain had an easy, unaffected smile. His eyes were the color I imagined a noontime sky in August to be—bright, blue and almost cheekily cheerful. If he was burdened by his money, his title or any of life’s daily troubles, it didn’t show.
He had undone a majority of the buttons on his crisp white shirt and was flashing his well-toned chest and abs at me as if it was the most normal way possible to greet a guest.
Werewolves were more at ease with nudity than humans. It must have had something to do with being naked with others at least once a month. Nudity was the sort of pleasure I tended to enjoy alone in bed. Sleeping. Alone. Did I mention the alone part? I didn’t mind being naked, but I also didn’t make it a habit of getting naked around company.
Vampires, regardless of how European a lot of them were in other respects, were more socially proper in situations like these. Although they would boast in private about their centuries of sexual prowess, none would dream of greeting a visitor in such a state of undress. Well, okay, that was a lie. I knew at least one very powerful, old vampire who often wore less than Lucas currently was.
I wished I were more accustomed to seeing men naked because then the beautiful smooth expanse of his chest wouldn’t be so distracting. As it was I felt the tug of desire building and had to look down at my hands. I swear to God I was blushing. How pathetic. The taste of cinnamon was on my lips again, with no reason to be there.
He got down to business. “I’m going to share some things with you tonight I expect you’re not really willing to hear. I apologize in advance if any of it is difficult to understand. You’re the first of our kind I’ve met in a long time who is so unaware of the ways of our people. I’ll try to help you through this the best I can.”
I stared at him. It sounded like the buildup to a cult initiation. If he was expecting that by my coming here I would agree to join his pack straight off, I had to put that dream out of his head before we began.
