by Michele Hauf
“What is it?” he asked. His heart thundered, yet he didn’t sense another presence in the apartment.
“I missed you,” she said.
“What?”
He lifted her and she wrapped her legs about his hips as he strolled down the hallway into the spotless kitchen. She’d cleaned up herself? He walked into the living room and sat with her still attached to him.
“What’s wrong, Blyss?”
“Nothing’s wrong. And everything’s wrong.” She hugged up to him and tilted her head against his shoulder. “I missed you desperately.”
“Is that the part where nothing is wrong or everything is wrong?”
“It’s both.” She bracketed her hands aside his head to stare into his eyes. “The whole time you were gone I could only think of you. I didn’t even mind the cleaning part. I actually found it rewarding. But my thoughts were on you. If you were safe. If you and my brother were getting along. If you would return to me. You came back to me.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” And see if she needed help. Which she had not. And she’d been thinking of him the whole time? “You were worried I wouldn’t return?”
She nodded. “You’ve changed my heart, Stryke.” She hugged him again, this time tightly. “I think I love you.”
“Whoa.” While having a woman declare her love for him was an amazing thing, Stryke couldn’t imagine she was thinking straight. Must have inhaled fumes from the cleaning spray. “What happened to down with the wolves? I’m pretty sure werewolf isn’t tops on your list of potential love interests.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what you are. Oh, I know this sounds crazy. You don’t have to love me back. I just wanted to say it, to feel it on my tongue. And it felt great. It feels right.”
“Glamour girl.” He tilted his forehead against hers. “I do love your surprises.”
“Did you find out anything?” she asked.
Much as he wanted to bask in her confession, Stryke nodded. “Kir and I found a lair. Inside were caged demons. And the scepter. We tried to take the scepter, but it was fixed into a weird mechanism.”
“What about Le Diabolique?”
“No sight of it. I’m thinking the only way to find that might be to set a trap. Locate one of the twelve demons on the list Libby gave us and sit in wait for whoever comes for it. But even that is an iffy plan. Who’s to say the guy in charge will go for that particular demon? Much as I hate to admit it, I’m at a loss what to do. But your brother is looking into his contacts.”
“I’m glad the two of you get along.”
“Kir’s a good guy. He invited me to come meet the pack.”
“Valoir is a noble pack that goes back for half a dozen generations. They are good people.” She sighed. “If you can overlook my mother. But even she has some favorable moments, I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone from Valoir without you at my side.”
“Then I’m afraid that will never happen.”
“Hey.” He traced a curl of dark hair that tickled along her cheek. She was so soft and smelled like precious things. “I don’t want to force you to change or to be something you’re not. But you did make an exception for me.”
“I have. I think I even want to meet your wolf.”
“Really? What have you been smoking, Blyss? Must have been some strong chemicals in those cleaning products. You’ve had a drastic change of heart.”
“I think you got inside me.”
“Well.” He pumped his hips against her legs. He did have an erection, but that was impossible to avoid when holding her.
“In more ways than the physical,” she reiterated. “And I have to face the fact that you might never find the diamond. In a few days the world I’ve created for myself might forever change. I may have to face my own wolf.”
“I’m doing everything I can to stop that from happening, lover.”
“And why are you doing that? You, the man who told me he wants to settle down with a wolf and raise a pack of his own. You can’t possibly fall in love with me. And I’ve told you happily-ever-after is out of the question. Why are you helping me, Stryke?”
Why, indeed? Did he feel more for her than lust and adoration? Could he possibly be falling in love with the wrong woman? The one woman who was completely the opposite of his ideal mate?
No. He wasn’t stupid. He’d entered into this relationship knowing full well it could never satisfy him. It was a fling. In a few more days he’d leave Paris for home, destined to pine for a werewolf wife who may never become reality.
But until then.
“You deserve kindness,” he said and kissed her nose. “And I want to see you happy. Even if that means you’ll never howl again.”
She tilted her head against his shoulder. “I haven’t howled for a long time.”
“If you get your supply restocked before the full moon, you won’t shift?”
She shook her head.
“So you don’t need sex the days before and after the full moon?”
All werewolves felt the compulsion to shift the day before the full moon, the day of and the day following. Generally, they tried to shift only one day a month. The werewolf needed that release. But as well, to shift more often was risky. Living among humans required a delicate balance between their wereself and the animal within. And the only way to calm the inner wolf on the days before and after the full moon was to have sex until satiated. It was a nice bonus.
“I don’t need to satiate my wolf,” Blyss said. “But I would love to be there to help you satisfy yours.”
Score! Maybe he wouldn’t need the cottage in the woods Rhys had offered, after all. But there was still the night of the full moon. He had to shift. Stryke would never deny that instinctual desire.
“I’ll take you up on that offer,” he said. “But tell me this. What if you don’t get your pills?”
“Then my wolf will come out, and...I’ll have to face it.”
He hugged her against him, feeling her tiny shiver. She didn’t want that. He would love to see her unleashed and wild. But he knew such a release wasn’t in Blyss Sauveterre’s nature. If he respected her, he’d allow her to be the woman she felt she needed to be.
He tilted his back against the sofa cushion and closed his eyes. It was nice sitting here with her, holding her, feeling her heartbeats against his chest. Comfortable.
A wrong comfort.
So why did it feel so right?
* * *
Stryke woke with Blyss in his arms. They’d crawled into bed with a few kisses, but hadn’t undressed because sex hadn’t been important. Closeness had been. He must have slept the whole night with her hand clasped in his. Generally he tossed and turned. Last night had been peaceful.
What was up with him and his inability to simply walk away from this impossible woman? He liked her. He needed to remain cautious with her. He understood the reasons for why she did what she did. And that allowed the caution to slip away. He wanted to hold her whenever she would allow it. And snuggle up to her and feel her delicate warmth relaxed against him.
Could he be falling in love? He’d fallen in love a few times. With human women. It had happened quickly, and he’d enjoyed the feeling, but inside he had always known that it could never last. Love didn’t have to mean forever. People came together all the time, fell in love and then drifted apart. It was how the world worked. And he’d known from the start this particular relationship had an expiration date.
Sure, werewolves married human. But it took a strong human woman to accept a man who, once a month, shape-shifted into a man/wolf creature and who liked to race through the forest, howl at the moon and even track, kill and eat small animals.
And there were his werewolf’s heightened sexual desires. He simply demanded more from a woman in bed. Of which, Blyss had responded beautifully. It was probably because she was wolf. Sort of wolf. Even though she took pills to suppress the wolf, her true nature had to exist within her.
There was no changing that.
Was there?
He’d love to bring out the wolf in her. But he didn’t want to force her. So that meant he had to accept her as she preferred to be. He could do that. Maybe. Could he? Did he have a chance at a long-term relationship with this woman?
He stroked her hair down her back. Soft morning light glittered on her pale skin.
He suspected even if things did work out with them, it could never last. His home was in Minnesota. Her home was Paris. She’d made it very clear she wasn’t up for the country cottage and the kids.
Or the happy ending.
Though maybe one or two kids? They could grow up bilingual and have the manners of a city slicker yet the instincts and call to the wild.
What was he doing? Already planning children with her? If Blyss could read his thoughts she’d laugh and toss back her gorgeous tousle of hair.
No, she was one classy glamour girl. Wolf or not, she belonged at cocktail parties dressed in fabulous gowns and dripping with diamonds. He could never give her the luxury, of which she expected and thrived upon.
So he wouldn’t allow his heart to make the leap. That big leap into love that he knew lingered so close. It would be difficult. He was more suited for difficulties such as facing down demons with claws bared and yeah, even the occasional couch-talk-down with a brother who had just been dumped and wanted to punch everything in sight.
He leaned in and kissed the line of Blyss’s shoulder blade through the white blouse. She smelled like a flower, of which he would never learn its name. The whole room smelled like a garden. He wondered if whatever flower it was would grow in Minnesota. If so, he’d plant a whole field for her in hopes to win her everlasting affection.
“Morning already?” she whispered and rolled onto her back.
He kissed her forehead and swept away the hair from her face. She wasn’t wearing makeup and her green eyes sparkled as if stars. He liked her natural and soft. Unguarded. She seemed more vulnerable, yet also stronger. Because this was simply Blyss unhampered by the mask of makeup and jewels.
“You’re beautiful, glamour girl,” he said. “I like waking up next to you.”
“Could you imagine waking next to the same person for decades?” she whispered, closed her eyes. “I can.”
“I can, too.” He turned onto his back, staring up through the windows. Clasping her hand, he held it over his stomach. “I might have to run out to do a job for Rhys today. But if I’m not busy I’d like to hang around here. If that’s cool with you?”
“I do have some business at the gallery. Insurance stuff regarding Le Diabolique. But that can wait until you leave. I’d offer to make you breakfast and we could have a romantic tête-à-tête, but I suspect there’s nothing in the fridge.”
“Not after yesterday. I’ll run out for those pains au chocolat that all the women seem to like. Maybe some chai, too. I miss that stuff. Usually drink it every day at home.”
“Tell me about your life back in Minnesota. I don’t know much about you.”
He kissed her and sat up, stretching out a kink with a twist of his back. “I’ll fill you in on all the boring details over breakfast. Mind if I hop in the shower quick?”
“Go ahead. Grab some fresh towels from the closet. I’m going to linger in your warmth.”
She spread a hand across the sheet where he had sat. Stryke wouldn’t have been surprised if a purr had accompanied her kittenish move.
“You make lingering look so damn gorgeous.” He strolled into the closet and at sight of the regimented contents let out an appreciative whistle. “Wow.”
“Oh, that’s the wrong closet,” Blyss called. “The towels are in the other one on this side of the bed.”
“No kidding?” He took in the rows and rows—and rows—of shoes in the closet that was as large as a living room. The woman had a serious shoe addiction. He backed out, the awe setting him slightly off-kilter as he stumbled into the bedroom. “You have a room just for shoes.”
She nodded and tucked the sheet up around her smile.
“How many do you own?”
An innocent shrug. “Hundreds?”
Again he couldn’t resist a whistle. Women and their shoes. It was some kind of sacred thing he would never understand. Shaking his head, he found the right closet, grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom.
An hour later, they sat in the living room finishing off the flaky pastries. The patisserie had also offered chai with fresh cream, much to Stryke’s thrill. He’d brought some for Blyss, who had never tried it.
“Good stuff, right?” He liked his spiked with extra clove.
“Exquis. You’ve made me a convert from coffee.”
“I’ll show you how to make it homemade. I have a secret spice blend recipe that will knock you off your feet.”
She bobbed one of her crossed legs, the pink marabou-fluffed slipper dusting the air. Totally Green Acres. But he wouldn’t tell her that. He didn’t mind looking at those gorgeous ankles and the pretty things with which she liked to decorate her feet.
“So you wanted to know about my exciting life?” he prompted.
“It has to be more interesting than mine. Trust me, it may look glamorous, but I can only drink so many glasses of champagne and chatter about the latest designer’s affair with a supermodel so many times before I want to gag.”
“Try chopping wood and digging six-foot-deep holes in the ground for a fence I’ve been putting in around my property.”
“Don’t they have a machine that can do that for you?”
“Sure, but I like the manual labor. And...I’ve not a job, so it keeps me busy.”
“You’ve no desire to hold a job?”
“Not really. I shouldn’t say that. I did attend the police academy. Had big dreams of protecting and serving and all that jazz.”
“But?”
“But the idea of starting out behind a desk and answering phone dispatch calls turned me off real fast. And I realized I couldn’t be happy wearing a gun at my hip and protecting humans. I’m more interested in working with my own breed. No offense against humans. I get along with them fine. Have to. But your brother’s job does interest me.”
“Perhaps you could establish an enforcement team back home?”
“Your brother suggested the same thing, and I’m liking the idea. As soon as I get that fence in. Gotta keep the coyotes out of my chicken coop.”
“Really? You don’t get along with that breed?”
“Not the mangy bunch I’ve got lurking about the farm. Tried scaring them off with my werewolf one night and they ran, but came right back. Idiots. But I won’t trap them. That’s cruel. Once I get the fence up I’ll hang some bright flags on it and that’ll keep them away.”
“Living on a farm sounds like a lot of work.”
“Probably a lot less work than trying to keep up appearances for the rich and snooty,” he commented without thinking. And then he did think. “Oh. Er, I, uh...”
Blyss sighed. “I get it. But rich and snooty is all I know.”
“I’m sorry.” His cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. An unknown number. “Excuse me. I should check this.”
Blyss finished the last sips of chai as he talked.
“Hey, Kir, good to hear from you. What’s up? A lead? Yes, I can meet you. Uh, not my place. You can pick me up at your sister’s place. See you in ten.”
He hung up.
“I suppose Kir is over the moon that I’ve a werewolf lover,” Blyss commented, but she said it with a smile.
“I think he’s too polite to make a comment like that. He cares about you, Blyss.”
“I know that. I wish I could see him more often, but he has to come to me. I won’t go near the pack. So what are you two up to now?”
“Kir has a lead on demon activity. We’re going to drive over and check it out. You okay to be alone?”
“Of course,” she answered quickly. “But will you call me later?”
“I will.” He kissed her and then lingered at her mouth, his lips barely touching hers. “You taste like chai. Mmm, I could drink you. Can we do a date night? After I get back from this, and I might have that thing to do for Rhys, but later, can we do something together?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I still haven’t found time to see the Eiffel Tower.”
“How about a dining cruise? You board right in front of the tower, eat and drink as you cruise down the river. Then you arrive back at the tower just as it lights up for the evening. It’s a little touristy but I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of cruising the Seine at night. I’ll make a reservation.”
“Sounds cool. I’ll see you later. Do I have to dress up?”
“A suit might be— Uh, no. Just be yourself.” She hooked a finger under his jeans’ waistband. “I like you in jeans. Especially when they sit low and show your muscles.”
“But a suit would be more appropriate?”
“Those cruises are filled with all sorts, from locals looking for a fancy evening out to tourists in jeans and sweatshirts. I’ll even dress down. Nothing sparkly or glittery. Promise.”
“I kind of like you sparkly. Make the shoes sparkly, okay?”
“Now, that I can manage.”
His kiss wrapped about her heart with a tangible hug. Blyss didn’t want the feeling to end, so she followed him down the hallway, lips locked and feet stumbling as he walked backward. Stryke’s back hit the front door. Blyss stepped up on tiptoes and tasted him deeply. She never wanted to lose the taste of him.
Her werewolf lover.
Chapter 16
The lead Kir had provided led the men to traverse the sewers of Paris. Stryke shook his head at his incredible luck. He’d seen some seedy parts of the city while here. Guess the City of Love wasn’t so romantic once you peeled back its layers. But he didn’t mind. The aqueducts were fascinating. He knew they’d been in existence for centuries and was instantly thankful for modern-day plumbing.
They walked along the river, underground, the city above them. The stone aqueduct ceiling arched over this narrow section that was more sewer than actual river, as Kir explained.
