A SEAL in Wolfs Clothing

by Terry Spear

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2012 by Terry Spear

  Cover and internal design © 2012 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Dawn Adams

  Cover Images © Fuse, Paul Cooklin/Getty Images/ryasick/istockphoto.com, spanic/istockphoto.com

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  From Legend of the White Wolf

  From Seduced by the Wolf

  From Wolf Fever

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  I salute those serving our country in all branches of the armed services and my son, Blaine Spear, who worked hard to become an Eagle Scout, served as a Civil Air Patrol cadet, and is now an officer in the U.S. Air Force.

  Chapter 1

  Of all the damn times for his SEAL team leader, Hunter Greymere, to take a mate and fly off on a honeymoon to Hawaii, why did he have to do so now?

  The problem wasn’t only with the assassin, should he arrive here and target Hunter’s sister, Meara, since Hunter was gone, but also with the fact that Meara was on the prowl for a mate. Finn Emerson had discovered that when he read the advertisement for cabin rentals that was lying on the white marble breakfast bar in Meara’s cabin.

  He would have been wryly amused if the situation wasn’t creating even more difficulties for him. Glancing down at the counter, he reread the advertisement.

  Cabin rentals with single occupancy located on Oregon coast. Great for rugged adventurers looking for a wilderness escape. No nearby shopping, theaters, or restaurants. Strictly a roughing-it getaway. For a special fee, management will provide a select menu. Cabin availability limited, so sign up now.

  Meara Greymere, Owner and Manager

  As he considered each point in the advertisement, Finn shook his head and slipped a bug into Meara’s phone.

  Single occupancy? After searching the five unoccupied cabins, Finn had found that each had two bedrooms and a living area furnished with a fold-down couch for additional guests.

  Rugged adventurers? From what Hunter had told Finn, Meara had been searching for a mate for some years now, and he assumed she wanted only alpha males to rent the cabins.

  Cabin availability limited? Yep, limited to five alpha males, if she could ensure she only rented to alphas.

  Meara Greymere, Owner and Manager? What had happened to Hunter in the equation? Finn knew Hunter wouldn’t have given Meara total control over the rentals.

  As to the special fee for a select menu, he just wondered what—or more appropriately, who—she would be offering.

  Finn spied a notebook sitting next to the phone and flipped it open. A woman’s handwriting listed guests due to arrive this week—with abbreviated notes beside their names.

  Joe Matheson, investment broker—sounded sexy, first arrival.

  Hugh Sutherland, thrill seeker—rugged voice.

  Ted Greystalk, bank president—promising.

  Caesar Silverman, dive-shop owner—sounded wet and wild.

  Finn snorted. He didn’t think she liked Navy SEAL types much because he and Hunter were SEALs. So why would the owner of a dive shop be appealing? Maybe she covertly was impressed with SEALs but refused to admit it, and the diver reminded her of a SEAL.

  Rocky Montana, independently wealthy—mysterious.

  The guy sounded like he was a wrestler or something. But the “mysterious” bothered Finn most. A man with something to hide?

  Five other names had been crossed out and had merited comments like “not rugged enough,” “sounded way too controlling,” “by own admission, strictly loner wolf,” “too old sounding,” “strictly human,” and “mated!”

  She had another list of eligible and ineligible wolves for the following week.

  Finn slapped the notebook closed and set up a hidden camera in the living room, wedging it between books in the bookcase. He would have a couple of his buddies run background checks on each of the men to see if they could turn up anything. Because lupus garous lived so long, they had to change their occupations and locations after a time to avoid suspicion, so the background checks might not turn up much.

  That was fine. Finn would interrogate the men thoroughly in person anyway. He smiled a little. He’d prove to them that none had what it took to turn Meara’s head.

  Still, Finn couldn’t believe Hunter had left a couple of sub-leaders in control of the pack and Meara in charge of the cabins. So who the hell was in charge of Meara?

  The worst-case scenario was that Meara would get stuck with a wolf she wasn’t interested in mating due to a poor choice on her part. From what Hunter had told him, she’d always been headstrong and hard to heel, and Finn figured the years hadn’t changed her. Besides, she was always picking up the wrong kind of men.

  Finn stalked down the plush ivory-carpeted hall to her bedroom—a nicely appointed room with a queen-sized bed covered in an olive-colored silk comforter and pillows, all trimmed in gold. The walls were a marbleized olive color, and all the wood was rosewood, making him feel as if he were in a cozy woodland den. On the walls hung pictures of redwoods from the California forests Meara and Hunter had called home for more than a century. Finn wondered if Meara ever got homesick, or if she’d adjusted to living on the Oregon coast. He still couldn’t believe they’d been forced to move because of some damned arsonist.

  Used to living out of a duffel bag, Finn was surprised to feel an uncharacteristic pang of longing for an ocean-view cabin, comfortable, homey, and appealing for every season. He had a place of his own with an ocean view a couple hours south, having thought he might live there if he ever wanted to set down more permanent roots, but he rarely stayed there, renting it out to others for most of the year. Or using it as a safe house on occasion.

  His home didn’t feel like his own place, having been decorated by an interior decorator. Nothing there was his personally. It was just a spot to drop in when it was vacant, once in a blue moon, and he wasn’t on a mission.

  Meara’s cabin had a different ocean view, and it was warmer somehow, filled with her enticing scent and smaller, homier than his place. A rosewood-framed collection of pictures of her family—Hunter, her pare
nts, and her uncle, who had owned the cabin resort before giving it to Hunter and Meara—sat on the dresser. A silver-plated hairbrush engraved with her grandmother’s name rested beside the pictures. A tube of lip gloss next to that made Finn think of Meara’s moistened lips—succulent, full and petulant, and damned ripe for kissing. He scowled at himself for even going there and glanced out the window.

  He could imagine a summer day like today with a refreshing, cool ocean breeze blowing through the open windows, or a wintry landscape where the pines were dusted with snowflakes while he ran through them in his wolf coat, or spring wildflowers filling the woods, or the leaves turning crimson, burnt orange, and brilliant yellow on a fall day.

  He shook his head at himself. When had he become an old man?

  He stripped out of his clothes and dumped them next to his duffel bag. If any of these vacationing wolves thought they had half a chance of making a play for Meara without Hunter around, they’d soon learn that they’d have to deal with another alpha male.

  The situation could be a lot more serious than that—not that selecting the wrong mate wasn’t serious enough, since lupus garous mated for life and lived long lives. Finn didn’t know if, in an effort to get to Hunter, the assassin would attempt to grab Meara.

  Finn snatched his cell phone from his belt and tried to call Hunter one last time. According to one of Hunter’s sub-leaders, Chris Tarleton, Hunter would be flying out with his mate to Hawaii any minute now and he’d probably already turned off his cell phone. Hell, Finn had to warn Hunter to watch his back. If he’d only known sooner that Hunter had moved his lupus garou pack from Northern California to the Oregon coast, Finn might have caught Hunter before he left. A few months had passed since their last contracted mission, and Finn had just assumed that Hunter and his pack were still living in the same place they had for years.

  The phone rang and rang. No answer. Finn would have to keep trying to reach him. For now, Finn needed to stake the territory as his own until Hunter returned. Finn extended his arms and summoned the quick and painless transformation into his wolf form, welcoming the stretching of muscles and tissue. The softer fur covered his skin close to his body, while the coarser outer coat added a protective layer. He dropped to stand on all four paws before loping down the hall to the kitchen where a wolf door was his ticket to the outside.

  Once outside, he raced across the slate-gray patio, then dove into the woods surrounding the oceanfront cottage and ran along a trail already marked by Hunter and a female, probably his mate. By the time the two of them returned from Hawaii, their scent markings would be two weeks old, and another werewolf coming into the area might think it was unoccupied, allowing him to stake a claim to the territory.

  Finn loped through the northern pine and Douglas fir forests, scent-marking the area surrounding each of the five rental cabins. Waves crashed below the cliffs, and the Pacific Ocean breeze shook the pine branches as the clean air filled his lungs. He paused briefly at the cliffside to take another heady breath and watch the foaming waves crest and fall against the beach. He could never get enough of the sea.

  But instead of striking from the direction of the sea and returning there after accomplishing his clandestine mission, as he would have done while serving as one of the elite U.S. Navy SEALs, Finn was sticking to the land this time. Nothing about this operation would be clandestine. Finn wanted the assassin to know he was here protecting his own, if whoever it was decided to make a hit on anyone else who had been with the team.

  Hunter had been like a brother to Finn while they’d served as SEALs, and Finn owed it to Hunter to keep him safe—and Hunter’s sister also, knowing that she could be a target and Hunter wasn’t here to protect her. Not that Meara would see it that way once she learned why Finn was here, he suspected.

  Finn leaped over a fallen tree on a pine-needle path farther away from the ocean, breathing in the scents of pine and fresh water trickling by in an ice-cold stream. Neither could mask the distinct smell of another predator. A cougar. And farther in the distance, its potential prey, an elk.

  Finn paused, twisting his ears this way and that, listening to the sounds of the ocean, the water in the stream, and the birds twittering and singing to one another, but he could detect no other sound of animals, human or otherwise, traversing the land.

  Despite this not being Finn’s territory, he was leaving fresh markings and making it his territory until Hunter returned home. Finn scratched the ground again with his paws to help ensure that any newcomer would know Meara had not been left alone without protection.

  Finn loped back toward the house, satisfied he’d left enough of his scent to warn anyone who intended to get close to the territory to back off. He glanced at the drive in front of the wood-frame cabin. No vehicle there yet. From what Chris Tarleton had reluctantly told him, Meara should be returning from the airport in about an hour.

  Chris definitely didn’t sound happy to hear that Finn was back, nor that he was looking out for Meara’s welfare. Finn wondered what interest Chris had in Meara. A pack sub-leader’s interest—as in she was the leader’s sister, and if she was in trouble and Chris didn’t watch out for her, he would be in trouble? Or something of a more personal nature?

  Baby-sitting Meara wasn’t what Finn had in mind, either. But the assassin had already attempted to kill one of their SEAL team members and was suspected of going after another. Finn had the sneaking suspicion that the assassin intended to go after each of them. Fortunately for them, the assassin was batting zero, and with the SEALs aware of the menace, whoever this was would have a devil of a time succeeding now.

  Finn ran around the pine trees surrounding the house to the back patio of Meara’s cabin. He’d checked out the cabin farther down the coast and found it was Hunter’s and Tessa’s. Meara’s sweet scent permeated this cabin. And here’s where he’d stay until he could reach Hunter and apprise him of the situation.

  Butting through the wolf door with his nose, Finn entered the kitchen and headed for the master bedroom to dress. If he had judged the time right, Meara would be arriving soon. He’d have a fight on his hands from the outset. Guaranteed.

  ***

  Although thrilled for her brother and his mate and their new beginning, Meara was trying not to show how excited and anxious she was to see Hunter and Tessa off quickly on their flight. Meara impatiently waved as they headed to the waiting area past the security check station, and once they were out of sight, she booked it out of there.

  Now was her chance to throw out the red carpet for the prospective bachelor alpha males who had leased the cabins. If none of the men this week appealed to her, she had a new batch of bachelor males coming the next week.

  They were her cabins for now. The guests were all hers, too. When Hunter and Tessa returned, Meara intended to convince them to let her be in charge of renting the cabins permanently while they ran the pack. She would insist that would keep her well-occupied and happy, since she’d been none too happy to move here from the redwoods of California in the first place. Damned arsonists. If she could get away with it, she’d locate them and… well, they wouldn’t be setting any more fires. Not unless they did so in hell.

  Thankfully, Hunter had two sub-leaders, Chris and Dave, to watch over the pack while she was given the job of maintaining the cabins. That meant the sub-leaders would be occupied as she actively looked over her mate prospects. Two weeks. That’s all the time she had without her brother interfering and saying no to anyone she might be interested in. Not that she’d totally listen to him. But she hated how he always made her doubt herself about the men she’d been intrigued with. And once she’d hooked up with them?

  Yeah, as much as she hated to admit it, Hunter had always been right. In every case, they’d been the wrong sort for her. But she was determined to get it right this time. Without his brotherly advice!

  Of course, if none of these
men were suitable, she’d keep looking. But she didn’t believe she’d ever have a more perfect opportunity to be out from under Hunter’s watchful eye than now.

  In her excitement, she rushed home to ready herself for her first guest’s arrival, exceeding the speed limit just a little on the winding road. But she had to be prepared.

  Let’s see. Snacks, drinks. Maybe dinner, even though it wasn’t part of the paid “meal plan.” But a light meal—she’d made the perfect homemade German potato salad, just in case—and conversation might go a long way toward quickly finding out as much as she could about each of her prospective guests.

  What would be the best way to entertain the male arriving tonight? A midnight, moonlit swim? The Pacific Ocean in these parts was cold any time of the year, but she was up for anything a potential mate might enjoy trying. A moonlit stroll in the woods? A run in their wolf coats? Dinner on the patio with glasses of red or white wine, the moon and a sprinkling of stars glowing overhead?

  Getting too cozy too early would be a mistake. She loved to run and she loved adventure, so curling up on the couch to watch a movie wasn’t what she had in mind. Later, sure. But she had to know he’d want to do fun, adventurous activities. Not just lie around watching TV while she cooked meals for him. If he also cooked, so much the better. And if he didn’t mind vacuuming? Even better.

  Okay, that was getting a little too domesticated right off the bat. But she did hate vacuuming. And if he liked to vacuum, that would definitely work for her.

  As soon as she reached the coast and her rustic redwood cabin, she parked and got out of the car. But something didn’t feel right. The blinds were still closed in the four windows facing the road, and the front door was shut like it should be. Everything seemed in order, but… she could have sworn one of the blinds in her bedroom had moved just a hair.

  As wolves, well, part-time wolves anyway, she and her kind could see like wolves could. And catching a glimpse of movement that a human might not notice was one of the perks of being one of the wolf kind. Still, had it been her imagination? Maybe a trick of the pine branches dipping and rising in a graceful dance to the coastal wind’s tune and casting shadows across her bedroom window? As she watched the interplay of light and shadows, she thought that might be the case.