“I have a feeling little Keegan knows what she’s doing more so than most. Her mother doesn’t give her enough credit.”
Dastan turned to stare at Dmitry in surprise. “And here I thought you weren’t paying attention.”
Dmitry raised an eyebrow. “Paying attention to Keegan? You’re kidding, right? If I hadn’t known the little whip since she was the size of a watermelon, I would’ve already had her in my bed.”
Dastan fought a grin. He had no doubt about that. Dmitry was a player and used his Russian accent, intense gray-blue wolf eyes, and muscular body to his full advantage.
Born Persian, Dastan had centuries over Dmitry, but often Dmitry seemed the older. He definitely had more patience. Dastan felt a need to pace, to work the spying spell one more time. Dmitry, on the other hand, appeared relaxed as he walked to the counter and poured a cup of coffee.
Dmitry lifted his hand and brushed his shoulder-length black hair from his face. The gray was more prominent in Dmitry’s hair, which made him look older than he was; more distinguished. All shape-shifters had hair in human form that matched their fur in animal form. Some had more gray than others; some had white hair. Some, like Dastan, had dark brown with platinum strands. The color of their hair indicated which family the shape-shifter originated from.
“You’re too uptight, Dastan. You need to relax, and the spell will work better.”
“I know. I’m just worried about her.”
“She’ll be fine,” Dmitry said as he lifted his cup and blew across the hot liquid. “I guarantee it.”
Dastan frowned. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Dmitry shook his head as he settled back on the stool at the kitchen island inside their shared New York penthouse. Behind him, the full moon shone through the massive window, highlighting the gray in Dmitry’s hair.
“I don’t know anything. I just know Keegan. She was pretty pissed at her mother when she left, but she’s not stupid. When she calms down, she’ll remove the spell.”
“I think there’s more to this than just being angry,” Dastan replied.
He heard the tap of determined heels against the hardwood floor seconds before he saw her step into his kitchen. Dastan sighed just as he always did when she decided to grace them with her arrogant presence.
“Have you found her yet?”
Margaret Van Marshe was a force to be reckoned with. She was tall, her presence dominating and commanding—sometimes too commanding. She often reminded Dastan of a bull in a china shop. She said what she thought, without regard for how it might sting. She barked orders with the precision and bite of a Parisian officer, and God help them all if she became angry.
She was the complete opposite of her daughter, which was probably why they were constantly at odds.
Dastan set his beer on the counter. “We haven’t found her yet.”
“What’s taking so long?” she asked in exasperation. “She’s unprotected out there!”
“Your daughter may be without us, but I can assure you, she’s not unprotected,” Dmitry said.
Margaret gave a very unladylike snort. “Don’t tell me how strong my daughter is. I already know that. I taught her. But even a powerful witch can get into trouble.”
Both Dmitry and Dastan remained quiet and let Margaret grumble to herself softly as she paced around the kitchen island.
“I should’ve listened to her,” she mumbled.
Dastan raised an eyebrow. “Listened to her about what?”
Margaret stopped pacing and set one hand on the island, the other on her hip. “She said something about having a bad feeling. I told her it was just nonsense.”
“What was the bad feeling about?” Dmitry asked.
“Did she not talk to the two of you about this?” she asked in exasperation.
Both Dastan and Dmitry shook their heads.
Margaret sighed and adjusted the collar of her white shirt. “I was hoping she had.”
“You knew she had a bad feeling, and you didn’t question her about it?” Dastan asked.
She turned and narrowed her eyes at him angrily. “Do not lecture me, Dastan,” she warned. “I was busy.”
“Oh, forgive me,” he replied with just a hint of sarcasm, but it was enough to get his point across.
Margaret again sighed, and her shoulders sagged. “I know I work too much. I always have, but I do not need the two of you pushing my faults down my throat. I need you to find my daughter.”
“If Keegan was sensing something, maybe it’s possible Vincent has as well,” Dmitry offered.
Dastan shot Dmitry a look of warning. Dmitry knew what kind of anger that suggestion would bring, but Dastan also knew if anyone would know anything at all, it would be Vincent. And considering Margaret and Vincent’s history, it was doubtful she would want to ask him for anything.
Oh, how he would love to be a fly on the wall when that day came.
Margaret looked ready to explode. “I refuse to ask that arrogant, sarcastic scoundrel for help!”
“Why not?” Dmitry asked. “If you want to find your daughter, I would think you would be willing to ask anyone, even him.”
Margaret snarled and turned to the window. “I turned the man into a cat and left him that way for more than twenty years. What makes you think he would help me in any way?”
“Perhaps you should try something new and ask him nicely,” Dastan offered.
She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face Dastan with a glare. “I let the two of you get away with way too much.”
Dmitry looked up at Dastan. Let? he mouthed, and Dastan grinned. Margaret liked to believe she had more control of them than she really did.
“Do you think there’s something to this feeling of hers?” she asked, her voice hesitant for the first time since arriving.
“Keegan’s pretty powerful,” Dmitry said. “More powerful than you give her credit for. I believe it’s possible she could have a little psychic ability.”
Margaret nodded solemnly.
“Margaret,” Dastan said, keeping his voice soft. “Why don’t you go talk to Vincent? See what you can find out. Dmitry and I will keep trying to break the spell.”
Margaret nodded again, then disappeared without another word.
Dmitry shook his head as he turned to face Dastan. “What do you want to bet that Vincent doesn’t make this easy for her?”
Dastan smiled. “I certainly hope he doesn’t.”
Chapter Two
Keegan admired the moonlit stretch of land before her and immediately knew she was dreaming. She could always tell. Snow fell around her in soft drops, covering the ground and tree limbs in a blanket of white. It was so beautiful here—so peaceful. It felt like home.
Lifting her face to the night sky, she smiled. She loved to watch it snow. Despite the weather, the time of year, the air wasn’t all that cold. It was still and smelled of fresh air mingled with just a hint of musk.
Where had she smelled that scent before? She couldn’t remember. As she inhaled deeper, her smile widened. Wherever it came from, she didn’t care. She liked it and took in another deep breath.
Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She instinctively knew who they belonged to and sank into the warmth of his chest as his arms snaked around her tighter. Soft lips touched the side of her neck, and she sighed, tilting her head to allow him better access.
“Sam,” she whispered.
He responded by humming softly as he parted his lips and sank his teeth gently into the sensitive spot behind her ear. She shivered over every inch of her body as he scraped those teeth along her flesh.
Cody appeared before her, and she reached out, touching the side of his cheek with her palm. His skin was soft, warm under her fingers. He moved slightly, following the tilt of hers as she moved it, giving Sam better access to the column of her throat. Cody always liked to watch as Sam seduced her. He liked the way her eyes drooped and her lips parted.
Anot
her sigh escaped as Cody grabbed her hand, holding it still as he turned his head and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. He was so sweet, so gentle. So different from Sam.
Sam was wild, intense, wicked. Cody had a wicked side too, but it was more playful. Sam was… Sam sucked at the side of her neck, and her knees wobbled beneath her. Sam was hot.
They both meant so much to her in their own way. They both could have anything they wanted from her. Either could crook his finger, and she would eagerly submit. Both could rile her temper to explosive levels. But Cody was who could make her laugh, comfort her when she was down. Sam was who could make her feel safe, push her limits, and encourage her to push her own.
With both of them supporting her, she could fly. She knew it.
Cody moved his lips higher, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. Tingles of sweet awareness traveled up her arm and straight to her breasts. Even her nipples hardened as the cool night wind blew across the nubs.
As though knowing what she needed, Sam lifted his hands and cupped her breasts, warming them with his fingers. Keegan closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the erotic world they created just for her.
In the distance, wolves howled, their voices carried across the mountain by the cool winter wind. The sense of danger tightened her stomach, and Keegan tensed.
She opened her eyes, suddenly finding herself alone. The howling of the wolves came closer, and the sense of danger surrounding her intensified. At her feet, two wolves stood guard. One black with gray throughout his hair, the other dark brown with platinum strands. Both had eyes so beautiful, like the ocean ice of Antarctica; a striking combination of gray and blue. Instinctively, she knew they were here to protect her.
“We’re in so much trouble,” she mumbled. “They’re so much stronger than we ever imagined.”
“We are not alone,” one of the wolves said in her mind, his Russian accent barely audible.
She glanced to her left and noticed Sam and Cody, standing ready, guns in their hands. Fear raced through her, and she screamed, “No! You can’t be here!”
Sam turned to look at her just as a lone solid black wolf lunged from the trees toward him. The wolf was huge, much larger than the ones protecting her. Keegan rushed forward in an effort to save him, but she was too late.
“No!” she cried as someone grabbed her from behind, keeping her from getting any closer. “Sam!”
* * * *
She awoke with a start and sat straight up in the bed. Sweat dotted her brow, and nausea rolled through her stomach, making her grab her midsection in pain. Parts of her body ached as stitches pulled and burned. She’d sat up too fast, and her body retaliated.
She glanced around frantically at the floor for a bucket to throw up in. Seeing one by the bed, she reached down and grabbed it. Just as she pulled it to her lap, she lost what little was in her stomach. Moaning, she rested her elbows on the edge of the bucket and her head in her hands.
Every part of her body ached, her head the most. She hated drugs. She hated the effect they had on her body.
“Here,” someone said in a compassionate, soft voice as they handed her a warm, wet rag.
She took it without looking up. As she wiped her face and mouth, the bucket was set back on the floor.
“I got you some water too.”
It was a man’s voice, somehow familiar. She lowered the rag and glanced at the gorgeous man as he sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the man from her dream.
“Sam?” she whispered.
He smiled slightly. “You remember.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Remember?”
Dark brown eyes narrowed in concern. “I was the one who found you. Well, me and my brother. I was with you in the emergency room.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then quickly clamped it shut. This man had seen her mini meltdown when she’d realized she couldn’t remember who she was. A heated blush quickly moved over her cheeks.
“I don’t recall telling you my name, though,” he said as a frown wrinkled his forehead.
How could she tell him he hadn’t? That she knew his name from her dream? How could she tell him that when it didn’t make any sense to her?
“Are you feeling okay?” Sam asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered as she wiped her lips one final time. “I guess it was just a reaction to the medicine they gave me.”
“Do you remember anything? Other than my name?” he asked, his full, kissable lips spreading into a gentle smile.
Her mind returned to the dream and how those lips had felt against her skin. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head as though to dislodge those thoughts. She tried to remember something, anything from her past, but still couldn’t.
She squeezed her eyes closed tighter as tears began to gather behind her lashes. One slipped free from the corner, and she wiped it away angrily, hardening her resolve. She would not melt down again. She refused to be that much of a wimp.
“Hey,” Sam said as he brushed another wayward tear from her cheek. “It’s okay. Doc said it may take a little while. You took a pretty hard blow to the head.”
She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his concerned ones. They were so dark, so…dreamy. Long lashes surrounded his dark eyes, and a day’s worth of stubble covered his jaw. Dark brown hair curled around his collar, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers through it.
She wanted to lean closer, to taste him, feel his lips against hers. Why did it feel as though it wouldn’t be wrong? As though it would be a natural thing to just capture his mouth with hers?
He dropped his hand and cleared his throat, as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, and she frowned in disappointment.
“The doc said the stitches in your side and back are the dissolving kind, so there’s no need to come back to have them removed.”
She frowned. “What stitches?” She opened the neck of her gown and tried to see, but her breast was in the way. She sighed and let the neck of her gown fall back down. “I forgot. Is it bad? I can’t see it.”
“It’s not bad. Do you remember anything about the attack?”
She bit her lower lip and shook her head. She really didn’t. The first thing she remembered was the emergency room and her embarrassing meltdown.
“What about this?” Sam asked as he handed her a necklace. “You were wearing it.”
She took the delicate piece of gold jewelry from his fingers and studied the intricate design on the front of the oval locket. It was very beautiful. She brushed her thumb over the name scrawled across the shield. “Keegan?” she asked.
“Does it ring a bell?”
“No,” she whispered before letting out a deep sigh. “I wonder if that’s a first or last name.”
“I tried to do a little searching on the Internet while you were out, but I didn’t find anything.”
She nodded and dropped her hand that held the locket to her lap.
“There’s pictures inside,” Sam said as he nodded toward the jewelry. “See if they look familiar.”
With trembling fingers, she gently opened the locket and studied the two young people staring back. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties but wore a style of dress that appeared to come from another time.
The man looked older, but that could be due to the frown on his face. “Who are you?” she whispered.
“Parents, grandparents maybe,” Sam offered with a shrug. “The pictures appear to be pretty old, but there’s no denying the family resemblance, especially between you and the woman.”
She studied the woman a little more closely. She closed the necklace and dropped it back to the bed with a sigh. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t even remember what I look like.”
She stared at Sam and again wondered how she knew him. Why did she feel so safe with him yet at the same time so out of sorts? Was it his looks? His muscular body? Hi
s dark, intense eyes?
She quickly turned away. She didn’t want him to know that she was attracted to him, that she wanted him to kiss her so badly she was close to grabbing his face and pulling him toward her.
“What happened to me?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“You were attacked by some wolves. One of them knocked you down, and you hit your head. You were unconscious when we found you.”
“Is it normal for wolves to attack people?”
Sam glanced at the covers that lay across her legs before answering. “No. You, my dear, are the first. At least in a long time.”
He raised his head and met her eyes. Could he see what she was thinking? What she wanted with every breath that left her body? What was wrong with her?
“So,” he said, breaking the sudden spell that seemed to have her whirling. “I guess since you didn’t have any ID on you, and you can’t remember who you are, I say we just call you Keegan.”
“Keegan,” she said with a nod. “I like it.”
Sam smiled, and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. Oh God. She loved dimples. Or did she? Right now, she did.
The door to her room opened, and the other man from her dream entered. Cody. This time, she was able to keep her mouth shut and pretend she didn’t recognize him. He came to stand by the bed, his mouth spread in a soft smile of welcome, and every inch of her body tingled with lustful excitement.
“Well, look who’s up and about. How are you feeling, Sunshine?”
Keegan blinked at the endearment but found she liked it.
“This is my brother, Cody,” Sam said. “He was with me when we found you. He was the one who scared off the wolves.”
Keegan nodded and tried to return his smile past her queasy stomach. “I’m still a little weird and foggy, but otherwise I think I’m okay.”
“Still don’t remember anything?” Cody asked gently.
She shook her head sadly. “What’s going to happen to me?” she asked. “Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?”
“Well, Cody and I were talking about that,” Sam began. “We discussed last week that we needed someone to help us out at the house. Doing some cooking, cleaning. Nothing major.”
Lost Without Them Page 2
