Caedmon Wolves
Wolf’s Haven
Wolf’s Promise
Wolf’s Touch
Wolf’s Desire
Wolf’s Strength
Wolf’s Desire
By Ambrielle Kirk
Wolf's Desire (Caedmon Wolves, 4)
When Keira becomes a widow, she realizes that the life she once had wasn’t normal after all. After her husband is brutally murdered, she is more than just alone but vulnerable to threats and tangled in a web of greed. Her decisions lead her into a corner, and safety is jeopardized.
Aiden, Caedmon Council member, has never failed when it comes to fulfilling the terms of his employment contract. When he is hired to protect
an heiress, he doesn’t plan on her being the only woman to bring both challenge and purpose in his life. Without hesitation, he vows to keep the grieving Keira safe—even from himself.
Keira trusts Aiden unconditionally and finds joy whenever they are together, but can love transcend a tragedy? Aiden’s urge to protect her is just as great as his desire to claim her. Once the passion is unleashed and fueled by the need to have all of her, the wolf will accept nothing less than his mate.
Copyright © Ambrielle Kirk, March 2013
Cover Art by For the Muse Designs © March 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
The future is ours to channel when we embrace change.
~Anonymous
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Chapter One
“The man who killed your ex-husband was found dead last week.”
Keira slowly lifted her gaze to meet the solemn stare of the two lawyers before her. Mr. Echols, the one with a mass of gray curly hair and large bifocals, presented the memo to her with the words closed-case stamped across it. The other was younger and likely an apprentice. His hair was brown, and slicked back with loads of gel. Both of them eyed her in anticipation like hawks.
“Did you hear what I just said? The investigators are closing his case,” Mr. Echols repeated, more sternly this time.
She heard him loud and clear, but the news only caused her heart to tighten in anguish, leaving her speechless.
Jamison, her late ex-husband, had only hired these lawyers several months before his death. She’d remembered it, because there’d been a huge disagreement with him and the previous ones. The details that led up to the end of that relationship was not made known to her. Shortly before he fired them, he’d run into a world of problems—financial and otherwise. He’d been in a terrible rut trying to fix the mess, but unexpectedly ran out of time.
In such a short time span, the new lawyers could not have known her husband all that well. Jamison had been dead before Mr. Echols and his apprentice earned their third retainer fee.
She swallowed. “How do they know they’ve found his killer?”
“They have DNA and solid physical evidence linking this man to the crime,” Mr. Echols pushed the open portfolio in front of her containing a mug shot of a man with a grisly beard. “He also fits the description you gave to the cops that night.”
If she should’ve recognized him at first glance, she didn’t. A year had passed since that unfortunate night, and even back then when the events were still fresh in her memory she couldn’t paint a clear enough picture of anything. Plus, reliving the tragedy caused her grief, and so she’d forced herself to subdue the memories by passing the time with other matters.
“People make mistakes. Everything happened so quickly. I could have missed something important about the man’s description,” she said.
Mr. Echols shook his head. “We can’t rule out the incriminating evidence found at the scene of the crime. Jamison Ellis’ family has accepted his passing. His brother, Jonathan, has agreed that it’s about time the case has been officially closed.”
“What?” She pounded a fist on the table. “His brother is only concerned with liquidating all assets and properties as quickly as possible. They’ve made it absolutely clear they no longer want me to handle any aspects of the family business.”
“That’s another matter. A business matter…and none of our concern,” he said, carefully and softly.
She lifted an eyebrow. “But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious…that they want me out of the picture all of a sudden?”
A corner of Mr. Echols mouth lifted to one side, and his apprentice sat up in the chair. “Are you accusing them of something, Miss Ellis?” When she didn’t say anything, Mr. Echols continued. “We see this all the time, ma’am. Husband dies tragically. The family business that everyone once relied on is up in shambles. Widow is paid a healthy sum of money on top of her inheritance to get the hell out of dodge. Nothing new there. The Ellis’ just want to start with a clean slate.”
“They can have the business. I want nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t know how to run it anyway. But I’m not getting the hell out of anywhere until I find out why Jamison was murdered?”
“You’re young, Miss Ellis. Don’t be a fool. Move on with your life—while you still have it.”
The room was dead silent as Keira contemplated his warning.
His advice should have been heeded, but she knew that something wasn’t right about the way her husband died and how everyone, including his own father and brother, wanted to sweep all evidence under the rugs so they could be done with it.
It would have been easier, safer for her to pack her bags and start a new life elsewhere. And she would. Someday soon, she hoped she would. But not without finding closure to this one.
“I’m not crazy, but everyone seems to think I am.” Keira’s voice trembled with irritation as she spoke. “More than one man was responsible for Jamison’s death. Closed cased does not mean solved case.”
Mr. Echols looked over the rim of his bifocals with uncaring eyes. “Miss Ellis, these investigators are highly trained and work murder cases like these day in and day out. From the beginning, no one could corroborate your story about an animal mauling him to death.”
“So, it’s been decided…?” She balled her hands into fists, and heat flashed across her chest. “One of my husband’s killers goes free because the investigators failed to do their jobs.”
“You expect them to prosecute this wild animal you speak of?”
“I expect them to do their job and perform a thorough investigation.” A sharp pain sparked in her head, and she balled her hands into fists at her sides.
“Even if they found the one animal responsible for killing your husband as you claim, what can they do? Put it in the pound?” His thick eyebrows drew closer together. “For goodness sakes, the prime suspect is dead. Why are you so hell-bent on pinning someone else with the crime? Why do you want to poke your nose where it does not belong? It is to your advantage that this case is closed. Don’t you want to move on with your life? For the longest, you were a su
spect. Do you really want them to re-open this?”
In the beginning, they’d accused her of plotting to have her husband murdered and then assisting with the attack. That claim had been shot down quickly, but not due to lack of evidence.
She was innocent. Very few believed her. They claimed that her money had bought one of the best defense lawyers in the country, which in turn resulted in her dismissal as a suspect in Jamison’s death.
“What are you saying, Mr. Echols? Do you still believe I murdered him?”
“I’m advising you to leave this be.”
“They don’t have to believe me. I’ll hire a private investigator of my own. One that will do the job.” She pushed her chair back form the table. “Thank you for your time. Good night.”
Their expressions only showed the smallest hint of surprise. Did they think she would have given in so easily? She knew what she saw that night, but no matter how many times she verbally recounted the events over and over to the lawyers and investigators alike, no one appreciated her two cents.
Keira, listen to yourself. Jamison is dead. No one can help him now. No one will help you.
“Very well.” Mr. Echols tucked the portfolio and memo back into his briefcase, and rolled up his sleeves. “If you need assistance finding an investigator, we have many referrals. I hope you rethink this before it’s too late.”
She trusted no one. “I don’t need the assistance, thank you.”
Keira was tempted to fire the lawyers on the spot. Obviously, they never had her or her husband’s best interests in mind. She was slowly beginning to understand that very few did. His death had thrown everyone for a loop, and now she was left alone to tie the loose ends back together. But no seemed to want her to.
Suddenly, a wave a nausea flooded over her and she gripped at the edges of the table as her knees turned to putty. A maid rushed to Keira’s side to assist her and handed her a glass of water.
She took a sip, and then directed her gaze on the lawyers. “It’s time for you two to leave.”
Before either of them could interject, she turned, tightened her night robe around her torso and headed for bed. Her stomach grumbled in protest, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early afternoon. There was no use when everything seemed to taste of cardboard.
Her tired body protested more than her belly did, and soon she was curled up under the cozy blankets on the daybed in the library. Today had been the one year anniversary of her husband’s death and still she found herself clueless and alone.
Just as Keira was getting ready to drift off to sleep, something scratched just outside the window to the left of her. She lifted her head slowly and peered at the darkened shadows on the walls. Something scraped across the glass again, but this time, she only caught sight of tree branches brushing against the window. A tingle prickled up her spine even though she was under the warm comforts of her blanket. Glancing around the room once again, she made sure she didn’t miss anything out of place.
She’d make a note to call the gardeners out again to trim back the trees and hedges. She couldn’t remember the last time they had come.
A loud bang from an object hitting the outside of the house jolted her upright. It frightened her so badly, that she bit into her bottom lip and drew blood.
Keira held her breath and slowly slid her hands under the mattress for the weapon she kept there. She made contact with the hilt of the gun, gripped the handle, and pulled it out. Holding it tightly in her fists, she listened to the sound of someone fumbling with the locks on the window.
She propped up the gun with both hands, holding it level.
She was scared shitless. Could feel it with every jolt of her heart. Could feel the blood racing through her veins like a freight train. Despite the adrenaline shooting out through her fingertips, she held steady and focused in the dark as the top of a head came into view.
The trespasser wore a hood and she couldn’t make out whether it was a man or woman, but judging by the width of the shoulders she knew it was a grown man.
It was literally too late to call for help, and if she didn’t want to give herself away. She lowered herself to the bed in a position where she could still focus, aim, and shoot.
A gloved hand broke through the window. Most of the sound was muffled as he expertly used a thick towel in the act. His face was hidden by a dark scarf. From afar, she saw as he examined the room. His center of attention fell on the row of bookcases to the right. It became evident that the intruder had no idea that she was at the other end of the room lying motionless on the daybed.
The window frame shifted and creaked as he reached inside and turned the lock. She cocked the gun with a shaky thumb, and took a deep breath.
Adorned in black clothing, he lifted himself inside not even making a sound.
Keira feared for her life, but she was just as curious to find out what the intruder wanted. It was obvious that he came here on a mission.
As he stood in front of the tallest bookcase with his back to her, she noticed that he was slimmer in build than she’d originally thought. His head moved from side to side as he took in everything in front of him. He slid a bulky duffel bag off his shoulder, held it by his side, and then moved closer to the bookcase.
In her silent observation, Keira’s fingers went lax on the gun. After catching herself, she immediately tightened her grip again.
The hooded intruder reached out and glided his gloved fingers along the middle row of books. He prowled slowly, his movements quiet and graceful.
She had perfect aim, but still she failed to pull the trigger and make the shot that would kill the intruder on the spot. Hours and hours of gun practice for this very purpose…and she had yet to act.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Keira bit into her lips and held her eyes wide, careful not to blink.
He plucked a book from the shelf, set it aside, and fumbled with something behind the other leather bound hardcovers.
To her astonishment, the entire bookcase shifted almost as if someone had moved it away from the wall. The frame titled forward, almost as if it was a door.
He reached inside, and pulled something out.
It was a book. Larger in size than the others sitting on the shelf. She’d never seen any like it before. He shoved it inside his jacket, and then opened the door a little more.
Keira craned her neck to get a better glance, but the angle was all wrong. His body blocked the view, and the darkness in the room didn’t help.
Keira gasped. There was something metal-like in a glass box behind the door.
The intruder turned sharply and spotted her. His wide eyes sparked bright against the darkened interior of the room.
He reached for something behind his back.
Her finger slipped and the gun fired. The bullet hit a tall decorative vase near the fireplace, shattering it to pieces.
He made a bolt for the window, knocking over several items as he made his escape.
She stood, gripping the gun tightly, but no longer had a perfect aim.
His jacket tore on the jagged edges of the broken window as he hurled himself out of the home. The book he’d tried to swipe fell to the floor under the window.
She jumped up with the gun still in hand. Heart pumping violently, she rushed toward him.
He paused to assess the book lying on the floor, looked up at her, and then swiftly disappeared.
As Keira peered outside in the darkness, she saw absolutely nothing. Heard absolutely nothing. The intruder was gone.
Her heart still pulsed with ragged terror and she doubled over, fighting to catch her breath.
Someone burst inside the library. “Keira! What happened? What was that?” It was the maid. Francine. She had turned on the lights.
“Are you okay?” another asked, and she felt a delicate hand gripping at her shoulder.
“No.” Keira shook her head, still looking out into the night, clueless. “Someone broke in here.”
; Francine made a wail of distress. “Thomas! Call the police. Now!”
The police would do nothing, Keira was sure of it. They already thought she was crazy, and a lunatic. If they’d been patrolling the area in general as promised, the intruder would have been deterred from breaking and entering her home.
“Are you okay? Can I get you something to drink until the authorities arrive?” Francine rubbed either side of her arms, and then spotted the gun. “Did you shoot him?”
“I don’t think so.” Keira picked up the book that had fallen under the window. It had a metal cover with some sort of design. It was extremely heavy and the pages were thick and uneven.
Francine was eyeing her strangely, so she walked over to the bookshelf with it in her hand. Astonishingly, the door that was once open was now closed, with no evidence whatsoever of the bookshelf being moved. Odd. Not wanting to call any attention to the book, she placed it in an empty slot.
The maid nodded, and took her arm. “Come. Let’s get you something cool to drink until the police arrive. You seem to be running a fever.”
Keira went with the maid without protest, but she had a strong inclination to turn around and find out what else was behind that particular bookcase. Whatever it was, she was certain it would turn her world upside down.
***
Aiden lifted his nose to the air just before he breathed in a whiff of something burning. The smoke detector went off. He dropped the envelopes he’d been shuffling through and rushed into the small galley kitchen.
“Motherfucker!”
It was too late. Black smoke floated up from the skillet and triggered the smoke detector. He turned the burner off and removed the pan to the back of the stove. As he fanned at the dark fumes with a dish towel, his eardrums pulsed. The shrill sound of the alarm aggravated him.
The smoke detector was on the wall just above the archway leading out into the den. He hurried over to it, reached up with one hand, and pressed the red button to disarm the smoker. The sharp beeping ceased.
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