Possessed by a Warrior

The bad news was she had left the relative safety of her bedroom behind. Bad guys used animals to lure softhearted victims to their doom.

Shivering, she broke into a trot, wanting to get this over with. She was nearly to the spot where she’d seen the tail disappear. The long terry robe tangled around her ankles, making her stumble. Yelping, she caught herself.

An instant later, a huge, gray head poked out from around the corner. Chloe’s brain froze for a microsecond, her face going slack with astonishment. A wolf?

But there it was, that creature staring at her with huge yellow eyes, red tongue lolling out from between sharp white teeth. Not a nice dog, but a gigantic, wild thing. She screamed for all she was worth. But there was hardly anyone left at Oakwood, and no one sleeping on her side of the building.

There was just her and the great yellow-eyed creature, stuck in a staring contest. The wolf looked more wary than ferocious, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off it. The moment went on and on, a stalemate neither was willing to break. Finally, desperate to make the thing back off, she kicked off her mule slipper and slowly, slowly, bent down and picked it up. The wolf watched curiously, but didn’t budge. Chloe threw it, but her aim was bad. It bounced off the wall, ricocheting in front of the wolf’s nose.

That startled the creature into skittering backward, giving her time to dive for the safety of the first open door. It was the bathroom. She barely reached it before the wolf was already behind her, filling the door frame and blocking any hope of retreat.

Ironic, when her first thought was to trap the wandering dog in the very same room. Now the tables were turned. She scrabbled on the counter for something, anything to defend herself and came up with an aerosol can. She wheeled around, holding it in both hands. “Back off!” she warned. Her tone was clear, even if it wouldn’t understand the words.

The wolf didn’t come any closer, but it didn’t budge. She glanced at the can’s label. It was that ghastly hairspray Aunt Mavis used, the kind that could hold a hairdo through a category three hurricane. She’d heard of women using the stuff like Mace. She aimed the nozzle at the wolf.

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot.”

It was hard to tell, but the beast looked confused. It tilted its head, ears swiveling in her direction.

“Back off!” she snapped again, waving the can in hopes the wolf would get the message.

By this point, her nerves were brittle enough to shatter. She’d nearly been killed once already tonight! Where were all the security guards who were supposed to rush in and save her? Her relatives? She heard conversation, doors shutting, but no one was storming to her rescue. Where was Sam? He’d promised to guard her, but the moment she’d needed him he had vanished.

The wolf sat down, effectively trapping her. Hot, sweaty panic welled up, leaving her sick and shaking. She was in trouble, but no one was here to help her. Claustrophobia squeezed her chest. She had to get out of this bathroom!

“Go away,” she shouted.

The wolf barked, making her jump so hard her feet actually left the floor. Reflexively, she squeezed the nozzle of the can, releasing a hissing cloud of perfumed spray. The wolf staggered backward into the corridor with a ragged whine. The chemical reek of the spray clogged Chloe’s throat. She covered her nose with her terry-towel sleeve and blinked hard, but for a blessed moment the doorway was clear.

Instinct kicked in. Chloe bolted for freedom, her bare feet hardly touching the floor.

Then she saw security guards ahead, running toward her and raising their guns at the wolf. A few of the other guests were peering around corners, too frightened to come to her aid.

“Don’t fire!” she yelped, afraid for herself, the bystanders and the wolf. She glanced behind her.

Like a shaggy nightmare, the creature bounded after her, claws scraping and red tongue lolling. Chloe scrambled, running into the door frame in her haste to retreat. Her feet slithered on the hardwood as she tried to turn and shut the door.

The wolf attempted to stop, all four legs going straight. Its nails skidded on the hardwood floor.

Unsuccessfully. Golden eyes going wide with alarm, it bashed into her, the full weight of it colliding with her legs. Her feet flew out from under her and they both went down in a tangle of fur and terry cloth.

The wolf made a pathetic whimper. Chloe sucked in a shallow breath, terrified that if she moved, if she attracted its attention, it would bite. The stink of hairspray pervaded the air, making her want to sneeze. She froze, fighting the fierce tickling in her nose and throat. A sneeze might startle it.

It was a heavy beast, especially draped over her legs. The thick, coarse fur tickled and was disgustingly sticky with spray. Gingerly, she lifted her head a degree, peering down at it. The thing drooped its ears, giving her a wounded look with its great yellow eyes. Its ruff stuck up at odd angles, as if it was going for a fauxhawk.

“Where did you come from, anyway?” she murmured, forgetting herself.

It whined again, resting its chin on her knee, and gave a tentative tail wag. Apparently, it wasn’t going to eat her. Maybe it had eaten someone already. Maybe Aunt Mavis.

At that thought, Chloe experienced a moment of mixed emotions.

Now the security guys were crowding around. Sam burst through them, SIG Sauer drawn and searching out the enemy. When he saw Chloe, he lowered the gun, his gray eyes giving her a look that melted her where she lay. She immediately forgave him for being late.

“You cried out.” His voice was thick with concern. With a jerk of his chin, he sent the other men away. Obviously used to his command, they went at once, herding the scatter of bystanders back to their rooms.

Magnificent. It was the only word to describe Sam.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

But unobservant. “I think so?” she replied from underneath the wolf.

Sam snapped his fingers. The creature rose, shaking itself, and gave Sam a dirty look. Chloe felt tingling through her legs as circulation returned. She struggled to sit up. Sam glowered at the beast.

“Is he yours?” she asked.

“Sadly.”

The wolf edged toward Chloe, its tail between its legs. Sam narrowed his eyes. Chloe started to rise, but the wolf leaned into her, burying its head against her shoulder.

“Hey.” Startled, Chloe carefully scratched the wolf’s ears. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Such a big, handsome boy. I’m sorry I sprayed you, but you scared me.”

The wolf wagged its tail, and she started to use both hands.

“Heel,” Sam growled.

The wolf gave a start at the sound of Sam’s voice, raising its head from Chloe’s embrace.

“Now.”

The wolf slunk to Sam’s side.

“Why haven’t I seen him before?” Chloe asked.

Sam’s eyes flicked to Chloe’s, then away. “I’ve been keeping him in the garden. I don’t know how he got into the house.”

Chloe heard the lie, but couldn’t make sense of any of it. Her brain was too fogged with fatigue. Too preoccupied with the fact that, if the wolf hadn’t been tame, she might have ended up chow.

Why had Sam left her alone and why had he just lied to her about having a pet? Big, strong and protective was great, but reliable and honest counted for plenty.

He noticed her frown. “Chloe?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling a lot less forgiving. “It’s dangerous to let your furry friend roam. Something could happen to him.”

The wolf licked his fur and made a gagging sound.

“He’s a big boy. I’ve been thinking of sending him to obedience classes.” Sam offered her his hand.

Chloe took it, letting him pull her to her feet. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What else is there?”

“I thought you were guarding my door.”

“I was doing some investigating. I left someone to take my place, but he wandered off without authorization. We’re going to have words. Many words.” He glared at the wolf again.

The hallway was empty now except for the three of them. Sam held her by her upper arms, so close that her robe brushed against him. “Chloe, I’m sorry.”

She could see the darkness in his eyes again, just as it had been during that strangely charged moment in her bedroom. His look was one of possession, fired now by the adrenaline of the moment. He had come to save her—from where, she couldn’t say. The damp scent of the night clung to him, enticing in its mystery.

At that moment she realized that she’d leaned into him. Something about the man drew her like a magnet. She tilted her face up, staring into his steel-gray eyes. The need she saw there made her pulse kick up a notch, beating hard and thick in her throat. Suddenly the terry cloth robe was too hot, suffocating instead of cozy. She had a mad urge to peel it off, and then the nightshirt she wore under it, too. It was a fleeting, silly notion but it still wound through her thoughts, tempting her to give in to the demand implicit in that possessive look. Chloe tightened her belt, fighting an aching need to respond. Blood flooded to her face, chased there by the boldness of her thoughts.

A quiver passed over Sam’s lips, not humor but another more intense emotion she couldn’t read. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, letting them linger there, as if testing the heat of her blush. The touch was cool, yet so light it was no more than the kiss of a wing. The stroke continued, curling around her ear, brushing under her jaw to hover over the pulse beneath her ear. She shivered, nipples suddenly aching. She wanted his cool hands on them. She wanted his wet mouth on them. She wanted him inside her.

In a blink, her whole body was aching and slick with need. This was crazy. She barely knew the man. She scrabbled to pick up the threads of their conversation, to make these insane thoughts disappear beneath the surface of adult conversation. What had he been talking about? Oh, yes.

“Well, did your investigation go anywhere?” Her voice was rough and breathy. She cleared her throat.

He gave her a careful look. “Yes.”

“What did you find out?”

Sam did his best impression of a blank wall. Chloe sighed.

“I’m protecting you,” he said, voice dropping almost to the range of a growl. “Everything I do is to keep you safe.”

“If the dress thief is any indication, ignorance is a lot more dangerous.” She pulled the robe tighter around her throat.

“I’m not sure about that.”

She shrugged, aching, frustrated and tired of playing games. “Oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

She threw the statement down like a dare.

* * *

Sam watched the shrug do lovely things to the sliver of skin showing at the neck of the white robe. She was trying to hide it, but it still showed like an arrow pointing toward more intimate beauties. Her golden hair hung in glistening waves down her back, much longer than it looked pinned up. All that gold and white softness gave her an angelic air, spiced by the strong scent of her desire. Sam’s body tightened, transfixed for a moment by her loveliness, by the promise of pleasure. It was so different from his world of missions and weapons and blood.

He ached with wanting her, a sweet, slow pain filled with yearning and regret. Only part of it was a need of the body. His spirit reached for her, too, somehow knowing that she was a woman who would offer solace and strength. Things War shouldn’t need.

She was a good person, and that was exactly why he had to walk away. They had no business being in each other’s lives.

Then his brain caught up with what she was saying: “It doesn’t matter.” The look in her eyes said clearly it did.

But what could he say? That he’d found a dead body? Chloe didn’t need one more thing to keep her awake tonight, and knowing the security guards had been compromised wouldn’t help one bit. That kind of news could wait until morning.

The moment dragged by like a physical ache. Sam struggled, his instinct to take her then and there warring with the knowledge that whatever might pass between them would end badly. Human women were so sadly vulnerable. He could protect, but he could never have.

Then the moment faded, falling in on itself when the moment of burgeoning desire was ignored. Chloe’s face grew set, the corners of her mouth pulling down. Sam felt his neck prickle, instincts responding to her darkening mood.

“Where did your pet go?” she asked, a little too crisply. “What’s his name, anyway?”

Pet? Scrambling for a reply, Sam looked over to where Kenyon had been sitting. There was nothing left but a few dog hairs.

Sam cleared his throat. “Fido’s shy of people. Some wolf blood, you know.”

Her expression said she didn’t believe any of that. “He’s a marshmallow. I can’t believe you didn’t mention him before this. Why keep him a secret?”

Sam grunted, knowing he was going to lose if he kept talking. He was the guy who hit things, not the one who provided plausible deniability for werewolves. And something about that fluffy robe was shredding his thought processes. “I’ve got to go catch him.”

“Yeah, there are too many gun-happy guards around.” She blinked, her eyes shadowed with fatigue.

“Are you going to get any sleep tonight?”

“I keep trying.”

Sam would have liked to personally tuck her in. Maybe she’d stay put this time. Maybe he’d stay there to make sure she stayed put. Yeah, what was that saying about foxes and henhouses?

He had a wolf to catch. “Good night, Chloe.”

Her lips curved in a tired smile. “Good night, Sam.”

He opened his mouth to keep talking, but she turned away before he could think of anything else to say. Just as well. He wanted a few seconds more, but then it would be a few seconds after that, and so on until sunrise.

She turned back, her expression oddly naked. “Are you going to guard my door?”

“Absolutely. Personally.”

Her head drooped, not quite a nod. “Thank you.”

To his regret and relief, she closed the bedroom door, and the moment passed.

Sam slowly turned to see Kenyon’s human shape lurking in the shadows. He’d pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie.

Sam stalked over to him. “What happened?”

Kenyon snorted with disgust. “I heard Chloe moving around and tried to get out of sight before she opened the door. But she saw me. Then she chased me.”

Despite himself, Sam chuckled. “She chased you?”

Kenyon gave a lopsided smile. “What’s the point of being a monster unless you can have fun with it?”

Good question. He wouldn’t have minded a show of feminine gratitude. After all, the vampires on TV got the beautiful blondes. Not that Sam watched, of course. He yanked his mind back to business. “We’ve got to call Winspear.”

Kenyon ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught in clumps of hairspray. “He won’t have done the autopsy yet.”

Sam recoiled from the image of Jack lying on a cold metal table. That was just so wrong. “Then the doctor had better get busy because I have another customer. I found the thief’s getaway car, plus the driver. He was one of the security guards, shot in the head.”

Kenyon’s eyes widened. “Where? I lost the trail at the edge of the garden.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.