by Terry Spear
To Tempt the Wolf
( Heart of the Wolf - 3 )
Terry Spear
In this third in the series, wildlife photographer Tessa Anderson must prove her brother innocent of murder charges. But when she discovers a gorgeous naked man barely alive on her beach, she's got a new world of troubles to deal with, not least of which is how he affects her with just a look, a touch, or a whispered word.
Hunter Greymore is a lupus garou, a grey werewolf. Hoping to keep a low profile at Tessa's cabin on the coast, he's drawn into her lifeand into her bed. His animal instincts war with his human half, but in the end, the only thing he can do about this fascinating, adorable woman is to leave her forever unless she becomes one of them.
To Tempt the Wolf
Heart of the Wolf - 3
by
Terry Spear
I dedicate To Tempt the Wolf to the veterans who have served their country, to my son, who will be joining their ranks, to my father, who had been a prisoner of war and retired with the USAF, to his uncle, who died as a prisoner of war, and to my mother and all other women who have also served their country.
Chapter 1
SUCKING UP OXYGEN, THE FLAMES SPREAD OUTWARD, devouring thirsty timber and underbrush, perfect fuel for the firestorm. The winds picked up force, and Tessa Anderson's adrenaline surged again as she snapped the last of the photos for the magazine. The summer drought had continued on through the fall and winter, leaving the California forests desert-dry, and now either a careless camper or an arsonist had turned the woods into a fiery inferno.
What in the world was she doing risking her life to photograph this disaster?
Coughing, her eyes filled with smoke, she reminded herself she needed the money to help defend her brother. Then in the haze, the silhouette of a wolf appeared--gray, like the smoke, a phantom. watching her. stalking her? Wild animals knew better than to linger with danger threatening. Only a human would be dumb enough to stay put.
His uncharacteristic actions made her back toward her vehicle. Having been fascinated with wolves all her life, she knew his behavior wasn't natural.
A tremor stole up her spine. He looked just like one she'd seen before. The one who'd attacked before.
Snapping a picture of the wolf, she bumped against the passenger's side of her Escort. As soon as she fumbled for the door handle, he crouched, readying to spring like a coiled snake.
Heart thundering, she jerked her door open and jumped inside. Before she could shut the door, the wolf's hulking body slammed against it, knocking it closed. She jumped back.
Snarling, he bared his wicked canines. She scrambled over the console and twisted the keys in the ignition, her skin prickling with panic. Tires spun on gravel as she whirled the car around and headed for the main highway.
A half mile later, she came across a home in the direct path of the fire. An SUV was parked in the driveway. Its trunk lid was open and the back filled with boxes. Reassured that the occupants were leaving, she tore on past.
Her main concern now was returning to her brother's trial and praying he would be found not guilty.
Hunter Greymere shoved four more suitcases in the SUV while his twin sister rushed out of the house with another box of dishes, her face and clothes covered in soot.
The air was so thick with smoke, Hunter choked, fighting to draw in a breath of fresh oxygen. "Meara, enough! Get in the vehicle. We leave now!"
Black plumes of smoke spiraling upward indicated fire had claimed another of his pack member's homes and was growing ever closer to his own. Ash rained down like a light gray snow flurry. the smoke blocked out the sun, but the flames lit the sky with an eerie orange glow.
Meara shook her head and dashed for the house. "We have to get the safe."
Seizing her arm, Hunter pushed her toward the vehicle. "Get in the SUV! I'll grab the safe."
The look of mutiny on her face meant she would disobey him. He didn't have time to make her listen. Running in a crouch so he could breathe, he grabbed the steel box from his bedroom closet and carried it through the hazy living room. He crashed into Meara, stooping low, her arms filled with another box.
"Out, now!" he growled.
The blaze crackled, incinerating the old forest and homes in its path. The emerald green woods, already rusty with trees that had died from insect infestations and drought would soon be blackened. And the home they had lived in for two hundred years would vanish in a roaring ball of fire. No time for regret now.
The super-heated gases singed Hunter's throat and lungs, and he chided himself for staying as long as they had. After climbing into the vehicle, he turned the fan on high, but the car was already so filled with smoke, his eyes and throat burned. Meara's amber eyes glistened with tears as she covered her mouth and nose with a wet towel.
"We'll be all right, Meara." Hunter gunned the accelerator and sped toward the highway that would take them to Oregon, nearly hitting a Ford Escape in the fog-like smoke in front of them. The driver apparently had the same notion, but was not driving fast enough for Hunter's liking.
"Hell, who is that?"
" Oregon plates. Some idiot human camping out here? Who knows."
"A woman? By herself?"
He peered harder into the smoke and made out a crown of flame red hair cascading over her shoulders. Intrigued, he wondered if her face was as enchanting as the waterfall of red curls. But then he scowled. She shouldn't have been here in the first place.
He followed her as she hightailed it out of his territory in an attempt to keep ahead of the eye of the firestorm, and him. And for an instant, he felt like a predator stalking his prey. "At least we got all our people out."
Meara didn't reply.
She didn't adjust well to change. Moving from the Scottish Highlands over two hundred years ago to the untamed California wilderness hadn't set well with her. But change was inevitable for the lupus garous. Meara had been lucky they hadn't had to move as much over the years as many of their kind, hiding the fact that once they reached eighteen, they aged only a year for every thirty.
"Where are we going?" she asked, staring out the window at the vast ancient pines that would soon suffer the fate of their steadfast companions.
"To Oregon. Uncle Basil called earlier this morning while you were helping others pack. He's retiring to Florida. The cabins on the Oregon coast are ours now."
" Florida? Are there any of our kind there?"
"Real red wolves on St. Vincent Island off the Panhandle of Florida."
"Real red wolves?" Meara snorted. "I didn't think he liked mixing it up with red wolves, period. But real wolves?"
"He said he found a pack of gray lupus garous near the Everglades."
She shook her head. "So what's he going to hunt there? Alligators?" She let out her breath. "I don't want to move to the Oregon seacoast."
Hunter didn't respond. It didn't matter where they went. Unless it was back to their home in the woods, she wouldn't be happy. Not until she had time to settle in. Hopefully, it wouldn't take as long as the last time.
Hunter finished his shower at Uncle Basil's home, nestled in the woods overlooking the rugged Oregon seacoast, but couldn't get the smell of smoke out of his nostrils, and his eyes and lungs still burned. Nothing had gone as he'd planned. Not only was Meara refusing to speak with him--as he expected--but his people had mutinied as well.
As soon as he joined his uncle in the living room, he realized the day wasn't going to get any better. Not the way his uncle gave him a warning look.
Once Hunter assured himself Meara couldn't hear them from the laundry room, he settled on the leather couch. "So what didn't you tell me when you offered this territory for my pack?"
&nb
sp; Uncle Basil sat on his suede recliner, looking like he had aged ten years since the last time Hunter had seen him, his hair grayer, longer, his beard shaggier, his amber eyes tired. Which meant his uncle must have had some real trouble.
"You have a problem you'll have to deal with. One of your neighbors has been taking pictures in our woods. It wouldn't do for her to catch you shapeshifting. I tried to buy her out, but she won't budge. First her grandparents, and now she and her brother live in the house about twelve miles south of us on the coast. You'll need to make her understand she can't trespass on our land any longer. Of course, if your pack doesn't return from where they've scattered, it'll be just you and Meara enjoying the area in your fur coats. But when you lease the cabins to other grays, the risk will become greater. Up until recently, the place has been a safe haven for them, but this woman..." Uncle Basil shook his head.
Hunter knew damn well his uncle normally wouldn't hesitate to eliminate her if she could expose their kind for what they truly were. "You mean, the woman will be at risk." When Uncle Basil didn't say anything in response, Hunter swore under his breath. "You couldn't do it, and that's why you're retiring?"
His uncle avoided looking at him.
Hell, as if Hunter didn't have enough troubles to contend with. "All right. I'll take care of it. Are you going to have supper with us before you leave?"
"I already ate. Got a ticket on the next flight. I left a couple of salmon steaks out for you. Place is stocked with food so you won't have to shop for a while." Uncle Basil stretched his six-foot-two frame. "Looking forward to sunshine warming these old bones. Hips are bothering me something fierce. Figure the cold dampness might have something to do with it."
Then he leaned forward. "Your mother and father would have been proud the way you've managed to keep the pack safe all these years. Your people will return. Give them time. Just be sure and take care of the woman. Her brother most likely is going to prison for murder, but the woman's still a threat, unless she decides to move. Tessa Anderson's the name. Take care of it. And soon."
He stood and gave Hunter a fatherly embrace, then said his good-byes to Meara. Hunter waved as his uncle left in his old pickup, wondering why he hated to buy new vehicles as much as Meara hated to change where she lived.
Hunter walked to the picture window overlooking the Pacific Ocean and stared out at the gray day, the cold, fog, moisture--in stark contrast to the dry, burning heat and smoke of their abandoned home. Regret and relief warred with his emotions.
Meara slipped up next to him. "I don't like being here."
"You'll get used to it."
Knowing full well she wouldn't appreciate any attempt to console her, he headed into the kitchen and tossed the salmon steaks into a frying pan. He was determined to enjoy their newly acquired cabins, even if his sister didn't like it. Not that they'd had much choice. Settling with the insurance company would take forever and most of their savings were tied up in mutual funds.
"It reeks of fish here. How Uncle Basil could have ever stood it... I didn't remember why I hated this place whenever we visited. But that was it. The strong odor of fish and rotting seaweed." She opened a kitchen cabinet door, peered in, and then slammed it closed, rattling a couple of others.
"Eventually, you won't even notice it."
She opened another cabinet door and pulled out a can of spinach. "I want a mate! How am I going to find one way out here? You've made sure there are no other lupus garous in a four-hundred mile stretch of land."
So that was some of the trouble. Not that he'd had much luck finding her a mate in California either because she'd been so choosy.
"That's a bit of an exaggeration. Besides, when we rent the cabins, the grays will come from all over the country and you can find a mate."
He hoped. Never having discussed Uncle Basil's clientele with him, he assumed his uncle advertised on the Internet and in magazines that would help draw a crowd from all over. All Hunter had to do was tweak the ad to let alpha male leaders who were without a mate know his sister needed one.
Hunter flipped the steaks, seared them for a minute, and then tossed them on the rose china that had been passed down two generations. "What did you want us to do? The arsonists destroyed the forests and moving north to Oregon was the best thing we could manage."
She didn't reply and he sighed. "So, five members of our pack moved into the vineyards in southern California. What kind of a life would that be? We're used to hunting in woods during our nighttime excursions. No other lupus garous live in the area, so no worry about encroaching on another pack's territorial rights. Besides, Uncle Basil decided it was time to retire and was glad to gift us the land and cabins. It couldn't be more perfect."
"So what's this really about? Uncle Basil never once mentioned he wanted to quit the business," Meara said.
"We were happy in California. He knew unless something like this happened we wouldn't have moved a foot out of there."
She peered out the window. Her spine straightened and her mouth dropped. "I'll be right back." She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulders and headed outside.
He strode to the window and looked out.
"Hell."
It was the woman. Had to be. Tessa Anderson, the photographer. Petite, swallowed up in a white parka, she trudged toward their house with a camera strap slung around her neck. The camera bounced between her full breasts, which were accentuated by the snug fit of her pale blue turtleneck. Her jeans outlined curvy legs, and suddenly he had the most lascivious thought, wondering what was wrong with him at a moment like this, to be envisioning this woman naked with her long legs wrapped tightly around him.
A pink ski cap hid her hair, but her brows were red, her green eyes sparkled with fire, and her cheeks and pert nose were rosy from the cold. Full, sensual lips shimmered with pink gloss that begged for a man's caress. Her eyes garnered his attention again. Expressive, vibrant, full of life, yet a subtle sadness marred them.
Why was she wandering the woods alone when the night would soon cast her into darkness? Why here? Unless she had made friends with Uncle Basil and had come to see him.
Hell. No wonder he couldn't get rid of her himself.
Meara quickly confronted her, and Hunter raised the window to overhear the conversation. Even though he planned on talking to Miss Anderson, it didn't hurt for Meara to tell the woman the error of her ways. At the very least, giving Meara some control over their lands would make her feel more at home here.
Meara raised her hand to the woman in her path. "You're trespassing."
The woman's eyes narrowed and her brows knit together in a tight little frown. "Uncle Basil said I could take pictures out this way during the winter because he didn't have any B&B guests this time of year."
She had Uncle Basil's permission? What was the crafty old wolf up to?
"Uncle Basil?" Meara asked, her voice rising.
"That's what he told me to call him."
So, Uncle Basil had a relationship with the human female after all. Which wasn't like him.
"Well, his real niece and nephew have taken up residence, and Uncle Basil has moved to Florida. The rules are different now. Find somewhere else to take your pictures. Don't come here again."
The woman glanced at the house. Looking to rescue Uncle Basil? Or maybe she hoped he'd come out and save her from Hunter's sister?
Facing Meara, she offered her gloved hand. "I'm Tessa Anderson, a professional photographer. I live down the coast."
Meara folded her arms. "Then you must have plenty of photo ops on your own land."
Tessa stiffened and Hunter could see now the woman wasn't going to be easily persuaded. Her jaw tightened and her eyes flickered with inflexible resolve.
"Every area along the seacoast is different. And it changes as the tides pummel the coastline. It varies with the seasons also." Tessa tilted her head to the side. "Uncle Basil never said anything about moving. He isn't ill, is he?"
Hunter shook his hea
d. He admired tenacious lupus garou women, but a human female like that could cause real problems. So why was he checking out her package again--the way her turtleneck caressed her breasts, the camera strap pressing between the sensuous mounds, outlining them further, and lower to the jeans accentuating her long, curvy legs.
Lifting his nose, he took a deep breath. Because of the shifting breeze, despite the smell of pines and the sea air overwhelming all else, he caught a whiff of the woman's scent--of peaches and... tequila and margarita mix?
His eyes widened a bit as he smelled something else, something that generated an age-old need--a desire so strong that it could only mean her pheromones were triggering his craving. What the hell? She wasn't a lupus garou --didn't have their distinctive scent, yet sexually, she served every bit as much a magnet for a male lupus garou .
His gaze fastened on her eyes, now narrowed a little, sharp and full of mistrust.
"Did he always keep you posted on his plans?" Meara asked Tessa, being her usual snarky self.
"I was supposed to have dinner with him." Standing taller, Tessa considered the house again. "Do you have a number where I can reach him? Or an address?"
Dinner? Had Uncle Basil forgotten? Or conveniently avoided it, which would explain his warning--although cryptic--about Tessa before he left. Hunter let out his breath in exasperation.
Meara snorted. "Leave, now, or I'll call the sheriff. Don't come back here."
"It was nice to meet you, too." Tessa glanced once more at the house as if to say she wouldn't be thwarted from seeing Uncle Basil. Her breath mixed with the cold air in a puff of smoke, she lifted her chin a little, and then whipped around, and headed back into the woods.
The urge to hunt the minx filled Hunter with a craving so strong, he had to remind himself she was a threat to their existence. If she'd been a lupus garou, that would be a different story. He would have shown just how interested he was and worn her down until she felt the same for him, if she didn't automatically. But a human like her was nothing more than tempting forbidden fruit--one taste would never be enough. Best to buy her out and remove the menace from the area.
