Scent of His Woman

by Rebecca Royce

  Clay let go of her arm and rocked back on his heels. “Some people have to go through what they need to go through. If you weren’t here, they’d have to do without you. They’ll manage for a few minutes while you find your footing and don’t pass out from the tension in there.”

  She rubbed at her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Your mother gave me the name of the town. The rest I worked out.”

  She took his hand. He’d gone to her mother. “She told you the name of the town?” Ryker was going to kill Catherine. Cut off her head while she slept. What could have prompted her mother to take such a risk? “Why did you want to find me? Why did you come?”

  “I needed to see you again. I haven’t been able to breathe since you ran out of the coffee shop.”

  Even with the wind blowing around them, his words were music to her ears. Spoken by a man whose books held gritty tales of death and destruction.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

  He grinned and nodded his head. “In a million years I wouldn’t have believed you are…whatever you are.”

  Her good mood plummeted as the sudden sense of being exposed hit her gut. Not only because she had to explain to the man whose scent claimed her as his own and pushed him deep within her heart where she knew he would never leave, but because they were out in the open.

  As if on cue, Ryker exited the house with his mate holding his hand. Saja’s mutinous expression still raged thunder, but Mags couldn’t read Ryker. Either they had worked things out with Betty, or her sister had thrown them out of the house. Ryker spoke to the guard at the door before they walked on.

  Whatever had happened, security hadn’t eased. Another human was dead. She stood in a clearing with her human mate who was as much a target as any other non-shifter here. If Drew Tao could be shot, no one was safe. Betty’s misery drifted through the doorway before it closed, hitting Mags like a bomb on her tired soul.

  “I have to get us back inside.”

  He shook his head. “You can take another minute.”

  “You’re not safe out here.” She took his hand, lacing their fingers together. He was so strong, so capable. She couldn’t let his life end on the streets of Los Lobos, taken out by a killer no one could find.

  “Are the people who are dying being taken out by a sniper rifle?” He furrowed his brow when he asked.

  “Drew was shot. The rest were…gutted.”

  Clay nodded like she hadn’t just said the most grotesque thing in the world and squeezed her hand tighter. “Then I’m fine. No one is gutting me.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I know.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, sending shivers of pleasure up and down her spine. “I’ve got my eyes on you. I thought to find you and bring you back. Seemed a pretty perfect plan. Then I met Ryker in the woods. That was…unpleasant although he just seems like a guy who has a lot of responsibility to me. I didn’t want to cross a man with five inches on me. Decided it was smart to let him bring me to you.”

  “Ryker is very frightening.”

  With his free hand, Clay cupped her cheek. She loved how he touched her, could drown in the need for more. “He’s not interested in hurting you. How about you tell me what’s going on?”

  She’d already risked her life by standing up for him. Explaining things was the next logical step.

  “This is hard.”

  He nodded, his eyes holding hers in their gaze. “I find most things are. Talking to your mother was a struggle.”

  “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall.”

  “Betty’s got a lot of your mom in her without the restraint. At least right now.”

  He saw so much in so little time. “No wonder you can write. All right, listen. I’m not human.” She dropped the bomb and waited for the explosion. Seconds passed, and he didn’t flinch or drop her hand. “Say something.”

  “I need more to go on than that, sweetheart. You guys kept saying wolf and shifter. Are you some kind of werewolf?”

  Of course, he’d gotten quite an earful in the room with Drew. “Werewolves are legends which come out of truth. We’re shifters. Human and wolf. There are many types of shifters but the wolf lives in me.”

  ***

  Clayton could tell how she suffered. He wished he could make this easier on her. From the way her voice trembled, she expected shock and disgust, yet he didn’t feel either of those things.

  “When I was a boy, in Colorado, my grandmother used to tell me stories about shifters who lived in the mountains there. Apparently, they had a reputation for showing up when children went missing. Kids who would wander off. There would be stories of young ones being returned to their families in the middle of the night. The more the area built up, the less they heard of them, until one day they were gone.”

  “I don’t know about Colorado. I don’t pretend to be an expert. They take great pains here to keep the town hidden. Drew, who is maybe dying on the bed in there, he’s the alpha. Ryker is his enforcer. Betty, Drew’s mate. They keep themselves hidden. We lived here for many generations until Ryker came in the middle of the night and threw us out. Mom, Dad, and me.”

  He hated the thought of her being afraid, and the way her eyes widened when she spoke told him she’d been terrified. “Why would he do that?”

  “We found out years later when Drew returned—he’d also been exiled—that Magnum, the former alpha and Drew’s dad, had inappropriate feelings about me. Kicking us out had been to protect us.”

  Ryker had secrets. He’d be a great character to get to know in a book Clay had no intention of ever writing. This was the stuff of madness.

  “Drew returned. Challenged his father. Killed him. Reclaimed Betty. It’s supposed to be the golden age of Los Lobos. Then he got shot.”

  “The humans are dying.”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  He wanted to get Mags out of there immediately. A lunatic was on the loose, and her pack was in upheaval. Better she come live in his cabin with him. He’d take care of her, keep her safe, keep her secrets. Love her….

  Clayton didn’t even stutter at the thought. His mind moved too fast, one of the reasons he stayed to himself. His years on the force had taught him to attack a problem in a slower, more methodical manner. Although he preferred writing, even though it took him to dark places. His mind could go where it needed to.

  Mags wasn’t going to leave with him until this was over. That much he knew. Things—Ryker—frightened her in Los Lobos, yet she still felt connected. It was probably the wolf inside her.

  How cool was it she could do that….

  “Can you shift?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Right now?”

  “Unless you have something else to do.” Like an appointment he didn’t know about.

  She stepped back dropping his hand. “It might freak you out.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of really bad things in my life. There’s a reason I was a cop for only five years. I decided if I was going to run around in the muck of the world, it might as be from my own imagination. Your carrying the soul of a creature I admire for its loyalty? Not bothering me.”

  A tear slipped from her eye, and he reached out to bat it away. His spine stiffened. Mags should never, ever cry.

  “It’s really not, is it? I bump into you on the street and you turn out to be this perfect man who I can never have.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? Seems folks around here mix or whatever all the time.”

  “And die.” She sobbed outright with her words and, unable to think of a single other thing to do about it in the world, he pulled her into his arms. “I can’t have you die.”

  “I’m hard to kill. I got shot back in Denver years ago, and I have no intention of having any more near deaths.”

  She jolted back. “Are you kidding? Are y
ou okay? Did you get it taken care of? We have healers. They can fix you. They can….”

  He kissed her. She was so damn adorable. Beautiful, sensitive, and she needed him as much as he did her. He could see it. They would fit. Dammit, he wanted her. When was the last time that had happened?

  She moaned into his mouth, and his cock hardened to the point of pain. He was forty-five years old and reacting to her kiss like a teenager. Mags had the power to unman him.

  Mags broke their kiss, leaning her forehead against his chin. “You could die. Bad things happen to humans who mate us.”

  Enough was enough. If he was ever going to get her home, they had to manage their circumstances.

  “Show me where they died.”

  She blinked and he saw the heat leave her eyes. “I think I’d prefer to shift.”

  “Do both. Shift and bring me to the crime scene.” He’d go to his dark place for her. She should see this side of him anyway. It was always present, somewhere in the back of his mind where he kept it hidden away.

  “I don’t want to do either,” she grumbled but let go of him and stepped back. Seconds later, he watched as her body reshaped. First, she was a human, and then something else, and then wolf. A beautiful white-and-brown canine with sensitive eyes staring up at him. He wished he could say he totally kept his cool. Only he didn’t. His heart rate kicked up a notch. Mags had been right. It was the kind of thing made to cause a freak out.

  She wagged her tale and stared at him. Before he could overthink it, he touched the top of her head and scratched her between her ears. “I have to say, I didn’t think there was much left in the world to surprise me. Even knowing ahead of time, I am speechless.”

  The woman who was also a wolf whimpered, and he rubbed her ears. “Not in a bad way. Not in an it-changes-anything kind of a deal. Shift back? Can you?”

  He wanted to see her human face again, find his footing, put the shift away in the place where he dealt with strange, new things over time. The same process which had given her four feet brought her back to two.

  “Hi.” He tweaked her chin, and she fell into his arms. “You’re magic. I didn’t believe in it anymore.”

  “Oh, Clay.”

  He’d gladly hold her there all day. Only they had things to do. His objective remained the same. Do whatever he had to in order to get her back to his cabin. Simple but important task planning.

  “Show me the crime scenes.”

  “There are many.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning. Where was Drew shot?”

  She squeezed his fingers. “Not exactly the most romantic way to spend the day with my mate, but it’ll have to do, I guess.”

  He liked that word. Mate.

  ***

  Some places had a feeling. A darkness. He felt the energy in crime scenes, in locations where violence occurred. Even old battle grounds still held the sense. Gettysburg was tough on the senses. He knelt down, touching the dirt to get a visceral experience of the location.

  “Let’s take a step back from this, shall we?” He talked aloud so she could hear where he went in his head. “I’ll bet your sense of smell is how you navigate the world. Am I right?”

  “I’ve tried over the years to let that go a bit. Living with humans. It’s hard. You don’t think in terms of your nose.”

  “That’s interesting.” He stood up. “You changed when you lived with the humans. Stopped thinking with your nose. What do we navigate with? Our eyes, mostly. Our hearing. Sometimes taste, if it’s culinary.”

  “Exactly.” She walked next to him.

  If he were writing these scenes, he’d direct the reader to what he could see, what he could hear. The wolves were most likely thinking about smell. “He’s killing humans. Except for Drew, he hasn’t harmed a wolf.”

  “The thinking is he wanted to hurt the alpha, put the pack in distress. We’re only as strong as our leadership. It’s pack mentality. We all belong to each other and to Drew.”

  “Seems like he’d go after Ryker next. Or at least take out Betty. Yet—no more attacks on wolves.” Clay chewed on his lip and whirled around. “What’s in there? Those woods? Where do they lead?”

  “To the pack border.” Ryker’s voice sounded behind him and Clay nodded without turning around even as Mags gasped. She hadn’t scented him. He’d hidden himself well. If Clay were in charge, he’d want to know what the newcomer was up to as well.

  He spoke to Ryker without turning around. The woods were calling to him. They were visual. They needed attention. “Is there any reason Drew would be in that spot? Something he did regularly that would have made him come out here? A reason he might have stumbled onto a murder he wasn’t meant to see?”

  Ryker stepped next to him. “He plays ball with a local werebear. Once a week or so. He goes in there, has a catch, gives the kid some attention, and moves on.”

  Werebears. Okay. She had told him there were lots of shifters. He was just going to have to roll with this.

  “I’m the killer. Let’s pretend.” He breathed in through his nose. Whenever he wrote the bad guy, he did this. Over his decade-long career writing the same detective, he’d explored many dark evildoers. They had motivation. They had skill. They had reasons, even if they were just their own.

  He walked over to where the human had fallen. “I want her dead. I want to feel her life drain. I want to see her eyes blink out. I want to know I have the power. I’m strong. This is wolf pack. I’m aware you’re here, Ryker. You scare everyone. I’m stronger than you. Smarter than you. I want you to know it. I kill her. She dies.” He smiled. In the mind of the killer, it would be lovely to end her. “There’s a noise. Like you, Ryker, Drew is strong. He knows how not to be heard. Maybe he does it naturally, without thought. He’s been trained to. He comes out of the woods. Surprise. Unplanned. Now, it’s not what I wanted. I want humans dead. I want pain. I want to win. I want Drew to feel the tearing apart of his pack by my picking off the weakest members. I see Drew. He’ll spoil everything.” He raised his hand like he held a gun. “Bang.”

  “Clayton.” Mags’s soft voice reached him in his pretend world, and he turned to pull her against him. She smelled like vanilla. Soft, gentle. His. He wasn’t a wolf and didn’t have to be to addict to her scent.

  “Got quite a mate there, Mags.” A new voice he didn’t know caught his attention. Next to Ryker was a taller man. He was older, although Clay wouldn’t venture to guess his exact age, with Native American features and eyes which spoke of years of wisdom.

  “This is Gee. Our bartender. The local werebear. Not the one playing catch with Drew.”

  Werebear. Yep. He was going to be digesting all this a long time.

  “How about if we all get a drink?” Gee suggested. “While we let Ryker take a walk in those woods and see if he can pick up the scent of the surprised human-killer when he fled?”

  “Sounds like a great idea.” He would really, really love a drink.

  ***

  He watched. The man had seen too much. Drew’s surprising him. The first kill. What it felt like. Where he had run. How he had learned to disguise his scent. Why he had to do so….

  He didn’t want this human understanding him so well. There was a list. Humans to be killed and, very soon, Saja. The death of Ryker’s mate would mean the end of the enforcer. Three more mates and then Saja would never again be there to soothe Ryker’s anguish. He knew what that felt like all too well. How it changed him, how it made him strong and ready to show the world pain.

  That human man was going to have to go, too.

  No one could be allowed to exist who got in His way.

  Chapter Three

  Gee’s bar smelled like rain. As the only three souls in the bar, Mags, Clayton, and Gee sat side by side on the barstools sipping their drinks in utter silence.

  “I know you had your reasons not to come back before, Mags.” Gee spoke to her without looking in her direction. “What
ever they were, they’re yours to keep. You can’t know what it’s been like here since Christmas. Everyone has been on such a high. This place should be buzzing with customers right now. Someone should be trying to get on the bar to sing. The pack shouldn’t be living like this. If the bullet doesn’t kill Drew, the sadness just might.”

  “Sucks for your bottom line.” Clayton took a long pull from his beer. “Losing all your customers all at once has got to hurt.”

  Gee shook his head, a smirk on his lips. “Son, I have been doing this for so long, I have plenty of money. By the time you get to be my age, you’ve either acquired a fortune or you’re really a moron.”

  Clayton spun in his chair and stared right at Gee. “How old are you exactly?”

  “A bear never tells.”

  Clayton’s gaze met hers across Gee. “You, Mags?”

  “I really am thirty. We live longer than you.”

  “Which makes her a baby.” Gee shook his head. “You have somewhere to stay tonight? I have a room upstairs no one is using. Unless you want to sleep in the house with Mags’s terrified, pregnant sister and her father who doesn’t know which way is up right now. They only have two bedrooms, so you can bunk on the floor with half the pack dominants who are sleeping there like they can make Drew awake from their force of will alone.”

  Mags hadn’t really thought about Clay staying. Of course he couldn’t sleep on the floor of Betty’s house, and she didn’t have rooms where she could make him comfortable. The day was getting away from her. Details like that would never have been forgotten at home.

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Clayton shook his head. “I was hoping to get Mags to leave with me tonight.”

  Gee still hadn’t looked at her, which she knew had to be deliberate. The bear had always been extremely calculating with his movements. “You ready to go yet, Magnolia Holden?”