by Terry Spear
Not Allan either, but since he had been wounded, wasn’t here, and couldn’t defend himself, he sounded like the perfect scapegoat.
She didn’t give anyone the chance to respond to her statement, figuring they were all too surprised. Allan was the least likely to catch her attention because he reminded her of a gruff bear at times, rather than a wolf. But if they told him that she thought he was an acceptable mate, he might show up unexpectedly on her doorstep looking to date her. That wouldn’t do. Before anyone could say anything, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the back door leading out to the deck. Once outside, she ran down the wooden stairs and then walked across the warming sand, her toes squishing through the soft sifting grains.
A couple of boats motored past, and she had the greatest urge to swim. Well, actually, shift.
She really wanted to shift, which made her feel so attuned to nature, to the wilderness, to her wild side. She glanced at the woods surrounding the cliff and made the decision right then and there. If she ran into any assassin, she’d take care of the menace on her own.
She could hear Paul still arguing with Finn inside the house, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Bjornolf had turned to watch her out the window. The way his eyes widened and he reached for the door handle, she knew he realized she was up to something. And he planned to stop her. Tired of everyone controlling her movements, she stalked up the hillside to where the terrain and trees hid her from the bay window’s view.
Then she stripped out of her clothes—feeling free and natural and gloriously naked—and left her clothes in a pile under a tree. With heat filling every cell, a nice quick stretch, and a quick blurring of forms, she shifted.
The door opened, slamming against the wall, and then frantic footfalls raced down the steps. They were too late.
* * *
“Hell, Meara!” Finn shouted, ahead of the pack as he raced down the stairs.
“She’s shifting,” Bjornolf said. “I saw the way she looked back at the house to make sure none of us was observing her. When she saw me watching her, she headed for the hill north of the house and out of sight.”
“There!” Finn pointed at her clothes next to a pine and began stripping off his clothes. When Paul began to yank off his shirt, Finn shook his head. “Just me. We can’t have a whole pack of wolves running through the area.”
“Then I’ll go after her,” Paul said brusquely.
Ignoring him, Finn shifted, welcoming the warmth of the fur covering his bare skin and the length of the four legs that would propel him through the forest and take him to her. He sniffed the air with his long snout and breathed in her scent, adrenaline racing through his blood as the urge to hunt compelled him to climb the steep hill and bolt into the woods.
“You were saying?” Bjornolf said to Paul, sarcasm in his voice.
“Damn it, Finn,” Paul said. “You bring her straight back here!”
“Are you going to tell Hunter what Finn said?” Bjornolf asked.
Finn wondered what Paul would do.
Paul growled. “Why don’t you just crawl back under the rock where you came from?”
Bjornolf laughed, and in his wolf form, Finn smiled.
* * *
Meara wanted to run miles away—just for the fun of it. Not because she wanted to run away from the men or cause trouble. Running was in their wolf blood. She loved stretching her legs, exercising, smelling the smells, and collecting them in her wolf fur and taking them back to the den, so to speak, to relive the memories when she returned to the human-built home. The freedom she felt was so part of being a wolf.
She often ran when she felt like it, but especially when she felt stressed, tense, or confined. She really hated all this spy stuff and having to stay out of an assassin’s sights, although she wondered if the assassins they had already killed had been enough of a warning to the others that she and Finn weren’t easy targets and no one else would bother them.
At least that’s what she hoped.
But then she heard him—a wolf tracking her. No, two. One to her flank and one from behind. She’d never seen Hunter’s team members in their wolf coats, except for Finn back at her house, and not Bjornolf either, so she wouldn’t recognize them on sight unless one was Finn. And she wasn’t facing the wind the right way to catch their scents, but they would be getting a fill of hers.
She halfway assumed they would be Paul and Finn. Bjornolf was too cocky to stoop so low as to chase her down.
But when the first of the wolves suddenly shot out from behind some trees, she darted away to avoid being tackled. He was larger than she thought any of the men might be, a dark gray with barely any markings. Just a little bit of black fur over his eyes to make him appear as though he were frowning. Maybe he was.
Probably he was.
But he wasn’t Finn. The worst of it was that his legs were much longer than hers, and he ran faster so that even though she had dodged out of his path, he was now following her and quickly catching up. And then he lunged. She sensed, rather than saw, that he would jump to catch her from behind, and he did. The weight of his body and the violent impact effectively brought her down, and she yipped in surprise.
But the way he growled at her in a sinister manner that made her suspect he wasn’t one of the good guys.
She tried to get out from under the wolf, but she couldn’t move an inch with his weight pressing her to the pine-needle floor.
She feared he’d bite her in the spine to kill her, but a growling from behind them warned that another wolf was approaching in a hurry. Before the one on her back could move, the other jumped. She felt the impact of his mass striking the wolf pinning her down and causing the additional body weight to crash into her, too. Buried under the two wolves, she yelped again.
The newly arrived wolf’s teeth clashed with those of the wolf on top of her as he lay on his side, squishing her. But he couldn’t move away, either, as the newcomer viciously attacked, tooth enamel clashing against tooth enamel, throats growling, and the heavy smell of testosterone in the air as the two wolves tangled.
The term “top dog” came to mind, even though that was an insult to their wolf kind. The one on top did have the advantage, and he wasn’t giving it up. The one beneath him struggled to get free, all the while fighting for his life, his mouth wide open, teeth bared as he fought the one on top. Attempting to keep the attacking wolf’s teeth from sinking into his neck, he was effectively keeping Meara pinned in place. His struggles and massive weight pressed against her painfully bruised her, and she could barely suck in air.
As much as she hated being confined beneath a couple of roughhousing wolves with no way to help or retaliate or run, she tried to calm her panic and concentrate on any move between the two wolves that would indicate she had a little wiggle room to free herself.
The wolf on top of her made a momentous effort to ditch the attacking wolf, and the increased pressure of his massive body against her made her yelp again.
That made the one on top growl more deeply and tear into the other even more fiercely. Despite the noise they were making, she heard two more wolves racing across the ground. Her ear picked up the sound and vibration of their footfalls where her head was resting against the earth.
With a strangled bark, the one on top of her collapsed, and she knew the attacking wolf, her avenging wolf had killed the other one. Once she was able to lift her head and look, she saw that her protector was Finn. Teeth sinking into the massive wolf, Finn yanked him away. Then panting, he leaned over and licked Meara’s face as she struggled to sit up. So much for a nice wilderness run and the thought that she would kill any assassin that threatened her on her trek. She had never expected a wolf to come after her.
The other two wolves finally appeared, and from the way her savior looked at them, she knew they had to be Bjornolf and Paul. Finn shifted and stood before her, naked, sweaty, glorious. As a wolf, he was just as striking, but as a man, he was utterly gorgeous.
> And from the scowl on his face, he was furious with her. She narrowed her eyes at him. She was sorry for the fight that had ensued, but she wasn’t sorry about taking a run to get out of the house for a while.
“Are you all right, Meara?” Finn asked, already crouching beside her, feeling her ribs with his fingertips, and touching gently to keep from hurting her.
But the bruises hurt, and where the wolves had pressed hard against her, her muscles were sore. She winced, and he quickly pulled his fingers away and said with genuine concern, “I’m sorry. The good news is you appear to have no broken ribs.” His gaze returned to hers. “He didn’t have time to bite you?”
She shook her head, and despite trying to justify her actions to herself, she felt unworthy of Finn’s kindness.
Still wearing their wolf coats, Bjornolf and Paul watched her, but then the one directed the other with a nod of his head toward the naked dead man—a heavyset blond with large bones, fair skin, and lifeless amber eyes. The two wolves took hold of his arms with their teeth and dragged him deeper into the woods.
She only hoped that however they disposed of him, their wolf kind wouldn’t be held accountable for the man’s untimely death.
“Are you ready to return to the beach house? Do you need for me to carry you?” Finn asked.
She stumbled to get to her feet, feeling sore and bruised, but unless she passed out, she wasn’t going to make Finn carry her all the way back to the house.
Finn’s dark expression was unreadable now, although she surmised he was upset with her. Trying not to look as sheepish as she felt, she headed back to the house, head held high, ears twisting back and forth, as she listened for sounds of the other wolves as they conducted their business with the dead man or of anyone else who might be prowling the woods.
Proudly, she held her tail high like an alpha wolf. She might feel badly for having alarmed everyone, but she wasn’t going to skulk back with her tail tucked between her legs like a beta over it. And as reluctant as she was to have to concede her recklessness—although she still felt that dealing with stress by running as a wolf was only natural—she would apologize to Finn and the other men.
She didn’t have to look back to see Finn following her. Having shape-shifted again, he quickly joined her, running close beside her as if he were her mate.
He had to know she wasn’t planning to tear off for parts unknown. But then again, maybe he was just trying to ensure she was protected in case another wolf showed up with deadly intent.
When they finally reached where they’d ditched their clothes, Finn offered to help Meara dress. At first, she was reluctant, but then feeling bad again about running off, she acquiesced. When she was dressed, she waited for him to dress, and then he took her by the hand as if they were on their first date and walked her across the sand to the stairs leading to the beach house’s deck.
“Are you all right, Meara?” Finn asked tenderly.
She nodded, and then he took her inside, making her wait in the kitchen where she took a seat on one of the bar stools. He hurried through the house, checking it, she surmised, for anyone who might have slipped in when they were all out running as wolves.
When he came back and stood before her, she looked up at his tender gaze and said, “I’m so sorry. I—”
“Don’t be, Meara.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Why should you be sorry? Hell, Paul and I were fighting with each other like a couple of damned teens instead of watching the area for any sign of an assassin.”
“But—”
“You drew him out, distracting him, just so I could get the advantage.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Hunter would have been furious with me.”
Finn touched her cheek with a gentle caress. “I’m not your brother.” He pulled her from the bar stool and, with his hand wrapped around hers, guided her to the master bedroom.
“What…?”
“A soak will do you a world of good for the sore muscles.” He smiled at her, and when he took her into the master bathroom with its whirlpool tub built for two, he stretched his arms above his head a little.
In that instant, she wondered if he planned on joining her in the bath. But what if Paul and Bjornolf learned about it? The word would definitely get back to Hunter, and she was certain he wouldn’t like it.
Chapter 13
Finn locked the door to the master bathroom and started the bathwater for Meara, but she still wasn’t certain what he intended to do.
“Is Anna jealous of you with me?” Meara asked, still bothered by the notion because she’d felt like she was beginning to bond with Anna like she had with her brother’s mate, Tessa. She didn’t often develop relationships with other women. Partly, she figured, because she’d never had a sister. “Is that why she sent Paul after you?”
“She’s afraid of what Hunter will do to me if he learns what I’ve been doing with his sister.” Finn barely concealed a smirk.
“I’m a grown woman,” Meara said caustically, hating how much her brother tried to take charge of her life.
Finn helped her out of her tank top and pressed his mouth against her bare shoulder. “As well I know.”
“You don’t think I really have a thing for Allan, do you?” she asked, hoping Finn didn’t think so as he helped her step out of her khakis.
She groaned with the effort as her sore legs and the bruise on her hip reminded her how it felt to be at the bottom of the heap when two alpha male wolves fought.
Finn’s expression turned concerned as he gave her a hand into the tub. “No, I’m not worried about you and Allan. He’s only the one for you for the moment because he’s not here. I’ll be right back.” Finn gave her a knowing wink, then headed out of the bathroom and closed the door.
She turned on the jets in the tub and noticed a container of lavender bubble bath that must have been left behind by the people who’d had to leave in a hurry so Finn could move her in. She’d never had a bubble bath because they seemed too prissy and pampering. Eyeing it, she finally gave in, seized the bottle, and poured some of the bubble bath into the heated water. Nothing much happened, so she kept pouring until the bubbles began to surface.
“How is she?” Meara heard Paul ask Finn from the living room a couple of minutes later.
“Bruised and sore, but she’ll be fine.”
“Is she mad at us?”
She couldn’t believe that Paul would be worried how she felt about them and not angry with her for causing all the trouble by taking a run on the wolf side. She realized then that they didn’t consider her as a civilian but part of the extended family, so to speak. That made her appreciate Hunter’s team members all the more.
The water from the jets was stirring up the lavender bubbles something fierce, and the cloud of bubbles was growing and growing and growing. She stared at the massive, building foam and hoped it would stop any second now.
“I’m going to look around the area and make sure the guy didn’t have a buddy or two with him,” Meara could hear Bjornolf saying. “And take care of the body.”
“Good idea,” Finn agreed.
The back door closed with a clunk as Bjornolf headed out.
“No, she’s not mad at us,” Finn assured Paul. “Is Anna all right?”
“Yeah, she’s making a sweep of the area in her car.” Paul let out a harried sigh. “Hell, man, you know we all were interested in Meara. But none of us would approach her because of how much we respect Hunter.”
“I’m protecting her,” Finn said, as if defending his honor.
Paul snorted. “Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been in southern Florida, I would have been protecting that sweet body of hers, not you.”
Now Meara knew why Paul had been wearing the palm-tree shirt. She quickly turned off the jets, but the foot-high bubbles were stretching over the tub walls and boiling onto the tile floor. She groaned.
“Watch the place, will you?” Finn said, sou
nding more like he was giving an order than asking a question.
“What are you going to do?”
“Take Meara some Epsom salt. The brute strained her muscles and bruised her, making her pretty sore.”
“Oh.”
Epsom salt. Would it mix well with the bubble bath? She really didn’t want Finn to see the mountains of lavender she’d created. Footfalls headed down the hall toward the bathroom, and Meara sank under the foam still bubbling to the surface of the warm water, hating that he would see the mess she’d made.
“Finn?” Paul said.
Finn stopped in the hallway halfway to the bedroom. “Yeah?”
“You know Hunter’s going to be pissed with all the attention you’ve been paying her, don’t you?”
Finn harrumphed and headed back down the hall toward the master bedroom.
Meara assumed her brother wouldn’t like how cozy she and Finn had become when there was no way a mating would follow. But then again, Finn was keeping her safe, and Hunter would have to appreciate that. Nothing else would happen between Finn and her. Once they discovered whoever was ordering the hits on them, he’d go back to his secret missions, and she’d work on bringing alpha males to the cabin rentals again. End of story.
Missing the feel of the jets, she turned them on again, closed her eyes, leaned back against the numbing pulses of water aimed at strategic parts of her back, and purred.
“I love it when you do that,” Finn said, closing the bathroom door behind him, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at the huge mound of bubbles half hiding her.
Her eyes shot open. “You love it when I do what?” she asked innocently. She had no idea what he meant.
“Purr.” He mixed some Epsom salt into the water. Testing the warmth, he dipped his hand lower until he found her thigh and then ran his fingers not so innocently over her skin, and nodded. “Just the right temperature. But you could probably use some more bubbles.”
