Werewolf in Denver

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Kate spent her day being visible—connecting with Howlers she’d met only online and attending seminars geared toward the Howler movement. In the last scheduled hour of the day, she led a seminar entitled “Letting the Howl Out—Rededicating Ourselves to Werewolf Traditions.” The room was filled with mostly females in purple shirts.

  Jake Hunter sat quietly throughout the seminar. As the session neared its end, Kate introduced her two fellow council members—Giselle, in her purple Howler shirt, and Jake, who wasn’t wearing the shirt but supported the cause.

  “May I say something?” Jake asked.

  “Be my guest.” Kate liked Jake and thought he brought a much-needed strong male presence to the movement.

  He stood up, all six-five of him. With his collar-length dark hair and his flannel shirt and leather vest, he looked as if he’d just returned from the wilderness. Every female in the room gave him her full attention, and the males looked at him with obvious respect.

  “I think we have a real opportunity here,” he said. “Kate got the ball rolling by founding HOWL. As I told her, I would have joined, but where I live, the Internet is still spotty. But I’m here this weekend and was lucky enough to be elected to the council. That gives us three seats out of six.”

  Applause quickly turned to howls. Kate looked over at Heidi, who was probably responsible for starting the howling. Then she laughed and joined in. Howling was good. It reduced stress and brought the group together.

  When the noise died down, Jake continued. “Even more important than the strong Howler presence, though, is the lack of dedicated Woofers on the council. Duncan MacDowell is the only one. The others are still undecided, although I think we all know that Howard Wallace must surely support the Woofers, at least privately.”

  That news was met with groans. The Wallace pack posed a major threat to the Howlers and they understood that.

  “I’m asking all of you to stay strong and promote our cause. Don’t be discouraged because Howard won the presidential race. Kate has been assigned to work with Duncan to create a mission statement for the organization, and I know she’s going to fight for our position while she does that.” Jake challenged her with his piercing green eyes.

  “I plan to do exactly that, Jake,” Kate said.

  More howls greeted that statement, and the session ended. Kate suspected that Jake had intended his little speech to put pressure on her so that she wouldn’t cave as she and Duncan crafted the mission statement. Because he was a male Were and very perceptive, she wondered whether he’d picked up on the sexual tension between her and Duncan. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

  Jake would never suggest such a thing, of course. He might not even be completely sure that his suspicions were correct. But instinct told her that on some level, Jake sensed that Duncan had breached her defenses.

  But she’d breached Duncan’s defenses, as well. Duncan was as susceptible to her as she was to him, and she should keep that in mind. He might want her to greet him tonight looking ugly, but she wasn’t about to give him that advantage. When they met, the playing field should be as even as she could make it.

  Her meeting with him would take place very shortly. Before it did, however, she wanted to pay a long-overdue visit to her grandmother. Elizabeth Stillman had flitted through the conference all day, but Kate had never managed to be in the same place at the same time. Besides, the questions she wanted to ask couldn’t have been voiced with others milling around, anyway.

  She thought her grandmother might have some questions for her, as well. She hoped they wouldn’t veer too close to the matters Kate wanted to keep private.

  After six in the evening, Elizabeth could usually be found having a glass of exceedingly expensive red wine in her suite, a replica of Kate’s on the opposite end of the third floor. Kate pressed the doorbell, which sounded a melodious chime. Her grandmother hated buzzing doorbells.

  A maid with graying hair dressed in a smart burgundy pantsuit answered the door. “Hello, Kate.”

  “Hello, Sally. Is my grandmother in?”

  The maid smiled. “You know she’s always in at this time of the evening, unless she’s on a trip. Will you be staying for a glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you. I just want a few minutes of her time.”

  “Sally?” Elizabeth’s voice carried well. “Is that Kate? I was hoping she’d come. Send her right in.”

  A twinkle in her eye, Sally gestured for Kate to head on into the suite’s living room.

  Kate walked through the entryway and into the living area, her suede boots sinking into rose-colored carpet so plush and soft it would make a perfectly fine surface for sleeping. Her grandmother believed in luxury, from the gold brocade drapes at the windows to the white velvet slipcovers on the furniture, covers that were washed weekly to maintain their pristine condition.

  “Kate!” Elizabeth put down her wine and rose from her favorite wingback chair by the fireplace. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Kate hugged her grandmother, who at seventy-five had the face and figure of a woman at least twenty years younger. She’d lost her soul mate when they were both only sixty, and although Elizabeth could have searched for another, she’d chosen not to. She liked to say she’d had the best and anything else would be trading down.

  Elizabeth Stillman was tall, five-nine in her bare feet, and she usually took off her shoes the minute she stepped inside this suite. Her hair was a blend of several shades of blond that looked quite natural thanks to an excellent hairdresser, and she’d had at least one face-lift that Kate knew about. She preferred to dress in jewel tones and loose garments that floated around her when she moved.

  She was, as Kate noticed whenever she paused to look with a stranger’s eye, a beautiful woman. But anyone meeting her had better not assume that her beauty was the whole story. Elizabeth was extremely intelligent and a skilled politician. She’d run the Stillman pack ever since taking over from her father thirty years ago. She hadn’t slowed down a bit, and even though Kate expected to step into the position eventually, it wouldn’t be any time soon.

  Her grandmother waved her to the companion wingback sitting in front of the fire. “Aren’t you having wine? No, of course you’re not. Howard told me you’re meeting with Duncan tonight to craft the mission statement. Is that a brilliant idea or what? I’m not sure if it was mine or Howard’s, but I’m going to take credit for it.”

  “It is a brilliant idea. Challenging, but brilliant.” Kate sat in the chair but didn’t settle into it. “And I only have a few minutes. Duncan’s coming to my suite at seven, and I’ve ordered food to be sent up.”

  “Just food?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched. “You’ll need wine, too. I can’t imagine how you’ll come to any agreement on the wording if you each don’t have a few glasses of wine.”

  “If I decide we need that, I have some in the suite already, but I think we may be better off just sticking with water and coffee. It could be a long night.”

  Instead of picking up her own wine, Elizabeth sat in her chair and gazed at Kate for several seconds. “And what of your first night with this Were? How did that go? You know I’m burning with curiosity.”

  “Fine. It went fine. I got a report from Ryan around four this afternoon that the Stewarts’ window has been replaced.”

  “I’m not talking about windows. I’m talking about whether you and Duncan managed to get along all right. Disregarding those ridiculous Sniffs, of course.”

  It was the question Kate had been dreading, and she didn’t want to dwell on it for long if she could help it. “Duncan and I have been able to be civil towards each other,” she said. “But what I really came to ask you is why Neil was the MC for the opening of the conference and not you. I thought we’d agreed that you’d do it.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You didn’t like that, did you?”

  “Not so much.”

  “It was for your own good, sweetheart. Neil started pestering me about his role in the
proceedings, and I realized he intended to run for the council. I don’t know that he would have been elected, but the Stillman name is familiar to so many, and he might have been. I convinced him that being on the council would be boring but being the MC would be fun. He went for it. He’s a born ham.”

  “Now I feel better. If I had to choose, I’d rather have him in the MC position than on the council.”

  Her grandmother nodded. “So would I. And we can’t just ignore Neil. He’s family. So I wanted to find a place for him where he couldn’t do too much damage. I’m not sure that Howard would have put up with him on the council and I was certain Howard would get elected president.”

  “Because you pulled some strings?”

  “I didn’t have to.” Elizabeth picked up her wine and took a sip. “I would have, if necessary. I know Cameron Gentry was your choice, but, Kate, that Were has the moral fiber of a dry martini minus the olive. Howard is the better choice.”

  “I happen to think you’re right.” She thought of mentioning the incident with the Sniffer leak but, once again, decided that Neil would eventually hang himself and she hated the role of tattletale.

  “I love the WOW acronym, by the way.”

  Kate sent her a sharp glance. “Howard told you?”

  “Sweetheart, he tells me everything that’s going on. He’s like the younger brother I never had.”

  “You won’t tell Neil, though, right?”

  “Of course I won’t. Howard mentioned the Sniffer leak, and I’ve already talked to Neil. He denies giving the tidbit to Sapworthy, but I’m pretty sure he did. Both Howard and I should have realized he was close enough to hear our conversation. We’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “Good.” Kate hesitated, but they really did need to discuss this. “There’s one other thing, Grandma.”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “Do you think there’s anything to the rumor that Penny’s going to make an appearance at the conference tomorrow?”

  Elizabeth greeted the question calmly, so she was obviously aware of the rumor, too. She stared into the fire. “I hope not.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No.” She turned to Kate. “Have you?”

  Kate shook her head. “Just that one e-mail I told you about, where she wished me good luck with the conference. Nothing more.”

  Her grandmother sighed. “I checked with your mother and father today, and they haven’t heard from her, either. I wish they’d at least be willing to attend the conference for a few hours, just to make an appearance. It’s embarrassing that I helped organize this historic event and my own son and his mate aren’t here.”

  “They’re torn between Penny’s choice and mine. They think if they make an appearance, they’ll be expected to take a stand one way or the other, and they can’t see themselves doing that.”

  “Why do they have to take a stand?” Elizabeth looked indignant. “I haven’t. Why should they?”

  Kate loved her parents, but she understood their limitations, too. “They’re not as strong as you are. I’m sure you’ve been confronted by those who demand that you pick a side.”

  “All the time. I tell them to bug off. I’m Switzerland. I’d even be willing to run interference for Woodruff and Violet if they’d only show up.”

  “They hate conflict.”

  “I know.” She raised her glass in Kate’s direction. “To tough broads like you who can take the heat.”

  Kate smiled. “Thanks, Grandma. I’d better go.”

  “I do think you should offer him wine.”

  “We’ll see. He warned me not to.”

  “What nonsense. He’s a Scotsman. They can hold their liquor.”

  “I’ll see how it goes.” She walked over and kissed her grandmother on her smooth cheek. “See you tomorrow. And personally, I think the conference is a smashing success.”

  Elizabeth brightened. “It is, isn’t it? I hear the restaurant’s bustling. Later on I’ll go down and mingle at the bar, but I always enjoy my quiet time and my wine. It rejuvenates me. Besides, it’s good to maintain a certain mystique by absenting oneself now and then.”

  Kate laughed. “You are my role model, Grandma Elizabeth.”

  “In that case, you have to offer Duncan wine, because in your boots, I would make that the first order of business.”

  “I’ll think about it.” With a wave, Kate left the room.

  Sally was at the door to show her out. “I want you to see something.” She unbuttoned the jacket of her maroon pantsuit. Underneath she wore a purple Howler shirt.

  Kate gasped in delight. Then she stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Does she know?”

  “No. She was so adamant that the staff couldn’t take sides, and I’m a member of the staff. But I’m a Were female, too, and I don’t like the idea of human females horning in on our territory.” Determination glowed in her eyes. “You give that Duncan MacDowell hell, you hear?”

  “I will, Sally.” She hugged the maid and left.

  As she walked down the hallway, she thought about the movement she’d started, and all those who believed in her and in this battle to preserve the traditional werewolf way of life. Duncan might be the sexiest Were she’d ever met, and she might crave his body, but Weres like Sally were counting on her to fight for the cause. She couldn’t let them down.

  Duncan discarded the idea of taking the elevator to the third floor in favor of climbing the magnificent wooden staircase instead. Each newel post was a carved wolf’s head, and the broad stairs were carpeted in red brocade. Duncan loved everything about Stillman Lodge, from its rustic carved chandeliers to the gigantic stone fireplace in the lobby to the stained-glass lamps in the publike bar.

  Several Woofers had invited him for dinner in the lodge’s luxurious dining room, but when he’d mentioned his assignment, they’d wished him well and promised to buy him a drink later when he was finished. As cozy as the bar was, Duncan didn’t expect to be sitting in it tonight. If he and Kate finished before dawn, they would have their own celebration.

  He carried a small briefcase containing his laptop as he walked down the long hallway toward her suite. He’d spent a little time during a workshop constructing a rough draft of the mission statement. Since then he’d tried to concentrate on polishing it and failed miserably. He was trying to focus on it now with no success whatsoever.

  Instead he was imagining what Kate might be wearing, and whether she’d let him even kiss her, or if they’d work across the room from each other and not touch at all. He didn’t think that was possible. They’d become too close the night before to spend hours alone together now and not want to touch, to kiss, and…to make love, damn it.

  God but he ached for her. This was an impossible situation, but no one knew that except the two of them. Or he certainly hoped no one did. He had a bad feeling that Jake had picked up on the chemistry between him and Kate in the way that only a potential rival would.

  From the first time he’d met Jake, he’d been on the alert, and not only because the Alaskan Were supported the Howlers. Duncan had noticed how Jake looked at Kate, as if considering whether to make a move. But he hadn’t, possibly because he’d sensed another male had already staked a claim.

  Duncan hadn’t staked a claim, not really. He’d only made love to her once, and that was a far cry from staking a claim and miles away from binding her as his mate. Yet he’d reacted to Jake’s interest with an inner snarl of warning. He had no right to do that, but Jake might have picked up on it. Bloody hell. That wasn’t good.

  At the end of the hallway he found a set of carved double doors and a discreet brass plate with the words thirty-three hundred on it in elaborate script. Kate’s suite was definitely in a higher-rent district than his, which had a single plain door and was in the middle of the hallway on the first floor near the elevators.

  He supposed his room would be noisy at night, but he hadn’t slept there yet, so he couldn’t
say for sure. Sleeping there tonight was unlikely, too. Either he and Kate would work all night on the mission statement or they wouldn’t, but he could see no scenario in which he ended up back in his own room.

  He had, however, tested out the shower not long ago. He’d also shaved and changed into jeans and a slate blue sweatshirt from his alma mater, the University of Edinburgh. He hoped the sweatshirt would inspire him to great heights of verbal genius. Yeah, right.

  Her suite had a doorbell, and he pushed it. Chimes sounded inside, and then she opened the door. For a moment they stood there looking at each other. He was glad for the chance to adjust to her beauty before they were behind closed doors again.

  As if they’d agreed on a dress code, she’d also put on jeans and a sweatshirt. Hers was gray and said Stillman Lodge, Est. 1902. It included a line drawing of the lodge’s exterior below the lettering, which curved around either side of her breasts. She’d put her hair on top of her head and, in a winsome touch, stuck a pencil in the topknot.

  He wondered how in hell he was going to keep his hands off her.

  “Come in.” She stepped back from the door, and he noticed her feet were bare.

  He could understand the temptation to go barefoot as the soles of his loafers sank into the thick gray pile. Getting naked on a carpet like that would be a sensuous experience. He’d like the chance to find out.

  “Go on in.” She moved behind him to close the door. “The food’s here.”

  He waited to hear the lock click into place behind him before he turned to her. “I can already tell this is going to be difficult.”

  “I know.” Her shirt quivered with her quick breaths. “Go in and get some food.” She made a shooing motion with both hands. “That will take your mind off of sex.”

  “No, it won’t. I wonder if—”