AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 (2 page)

She shook herself as if she were coming out of a dream. Maybe it was jet lag. The flight from Washington, D. C., had lasted more than seven hours. She needed a bath and a nap to set her straight. Unpinning her hair, she moved to accomplish this first order of business.

Three hours later, Melisande was thinking about ordering tea, when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find a deliveryman holding a bouquet of lavender and white roses in a crystal vase. She signed the receipt and carried the bouquet to the nightstand. The flowers were beautiful. She touched a soft petal, then buried her nose in a bloom. She loved the mixed aromas of the lavender and white roses.

She smiled when she glanced at the card. Signed in a firm masculine hand, it read:
Dinner with you would be my utmost pleasure. I'll pick you up at eight. Grigori.

"He is very confident," she said. How could she resist him? She knew meeting him for dinner was taking a chance. But she felt she needed to be with him. He was necessary for her continued happiness. Melisande always tried to follow the little knowing voice inside. Right now it shouted that Grigori was important to her.

§

Grigori leaned back in his chair, as he felt the first stirrings of emotion come through the mating bond. He had just finished talking to the hotel staff about his plans for dinner. He sensed how much Melisande liked the flowers. She was excited about going to dinner with him. Feeling his heart quicken, he picked up the single red rose he’d purchased from the florist and moved into the bedroom. Pulling down the covers, he sprinkled the petals from the rose over the surface of the light-blue sheet.

He saw the yellow cord of light, which was now the width of a pencil, flowing from his chest and disappearing into the distance. Only someone with psychic powers would be able to see the cord tying his heart to Melisande's.

As the bond grew stronger, he would pick up more of her thoughts and emotions. The need to be together would increase until it became an obsession for both of them. Once the bond was completed, they would be able to touch each other's minds, and in fact would
need
to touch each other's minds. For one of the most devastating effects of the mating bond was extreme grief, if either partner couldn't touch the mind of his or her mate. And if something happened, and one of them passed onto the next plane of existence, the mate would want to follow. Such was the way of the lycanthropes of Siberia.

Grigori admitted he needed to know more about his mate. He wanted the evening to be perfect. With a couple of phone calls, he discovered she was an American who worked at the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Smithsonian Museum and lived in Virginia. Her parents had retired to Florida, leaving their only child alone. She was an expert in medieval tapestries. And from overhearing her conversation with Lady Ashtown, he assumed she must be here to view the famous Ashtown Collection.

He found Melisande fascinating and wondered what psychic abilities she possessed. For it had become known very recently that only a woman with psychic abilities could mate with a lycanthrope and produce children with wolf spirits. Because his pack had run out of mates, the Alpha and leader, Dmitry Volkov, had sent the single males out in ones and twos, hoping they would find mates among the human population.

Surprisingly, that wasn't why Grigori had traveled to London. He had come to help Scotland Yard track down members of the Russian mafia, who were stealing from the pack warehouses in Yakutsk. The mafia trafficked in smuggled gems and metals, buying drugs and arms to bring back to Russia.

The previous day, Grigori had helped with the arrests and even saved the Chief Inspector’s life. Grigori had assumed he would be on his way home to Siberia this afternoon. But then Melisande walked into the hotel and changed his life. Nothing would ever be the same. He carefully considered what to wear before going in to shower. This was the most important night of his life—the night he would claim his mate.

After his shower, Grigori paced back and forth across his hotel room for an hour. He had finished his preparations long before it was necessary. He felt edgy, restless, impatient. He was glad no one could see him. He was known for being cool and collected at all times. If his pack mates saw him now, they would tease him unmercifully.

 Grigori looked at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time. The moment finally arrived, and the stage was set. He glanced around, taking in all the details. Everything was as he imagined. He would have Melisande in his arms tonight. Grigori smiled in satisfaction and left his hotel room to go upstairs.

CHAPTER TWO

Melisande dressed with care. She put on an ice-blue chiffon dress and matching heels. The dress floated around her hips, spreading out like flower petals as far as her knees. She pulled her blond hair up, using pale-blue clips to hold it in place, and finished off the ensemble with a blue topaz necklace. She hoped Grigori would be pleased. She hadn't felt this nervous about a man since her high school prom. That was so long ago, Melisande thought she’d outgrown her strong reactions.

This man made her question herself, which did not happen often. He also made her hungry for things she hadn’t realized she missed. Like waking up in the morning with a man's arms around her and having someone to share her day with. Maybe even someone to have a home with and children. Melisande laughed at herself.

"You haven't even finished the first date, and you're already thinking of having his children. Be careful, Meli, or he'll run screaming into the night.”

A moment later there was a knock at the door. Melisande's breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to inhale slowly and wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. Then she walked over and opened the door. She saw emotions flash through Grigori's eyes. Yes, he liked what he saw.

"Come in while I get my purse and coat,” she said, stepping back to let him enter the room. "Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.”

"Not as beautiful as you,
milaya moya,
my sweet. You take my breath away,” he said.

Melisande blushed at the compliment. Grigori exuded a wonderful Old World charm. She was sure that compliments rolled off his tongue quite easily. He held her coat for her, and she slipped it on. He turned her in his arms and stared into her eyes a moment.

"
Ty takaya krasivaya,
so
beautiful . . . ,” he whispered. "May I kiss you, Melisande?"

His gaze captured her. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his fingers, and watching her eyes, lowered his mouth to her lips. Melisande felt the first gentle caress of his lips and shuddered with need. What was it about this man? What moved her so strongly?

Grigori reached out and drew her closer to him, slipping his arm around her waist. Then he continued the gentle assault of her lips. When she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue past her lips to taste her. When she moaned into his mouth, he shuddered and reluctantly pulled back from her. Grigori smiled in male satisfaction, when he noticed that she would have stumbled if he hadn’t kept hold of her waist.

“Dinner is waiting,
milaya moya
, though you tempt me to forget it.”

"Well, we can't have
that
now, can we? I'm sure you need your strength.”

Grigori chuckled, “Is that an invitation,
milen‘kij,
little darling
?"

"I guess we must wait and see.” Why was she being so forward with him? She wasn’t usually this way. But she wanted to tease him, dare him, drive him wild. She had never felt so bold before.

"Oh, we will see, Melisande, and tonight, I promise you,” he said, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on her inner wrist.

Melisande smiled up at him. It was a heady feeling to know this man wanted her. Grigori at her side, she walked to the door and into the hallway. She noticed how he made sure to keep his hand on her back, as he escorted her to the elevators. She walked in ahead of him and felt surprised when he pressed number three on the display. She glanced up at him sharply. Why weren’t they going down to the lobby?

"I fear I am unable to share you tonight. I made arrangements for dinner to be served in my suite,” he said.

Melisande didn't know what to say. She was aware Grigori wanted more than dinner on the menu. But on the other hand, she was a grown woman with a handsome man. If she was honest with herself, she wanted him. One night in his bed would give her moments of pleasure that would make the empty nights to come more bearable. One thing this attraction made clear: She was lonely and didn't even realize it until Grigori walked into her life.

Grigori escorted Melisande down the hall to his suite. He felt his body heating in reaction to her closeness. How was he going to make it through dinner? When she’d opened the door to her room earlier, one look felt like a punch to the gut. He suspected it would always feel like that when he looked at her. With golden blond hair and blue eyes, she was so incredibly lovely. When he held her, their bodies came together like two pieces made for each other. She was his, born to be his mate, and he would claim her.

Melisande waited patiently, while Grigori opened the door to his suite and ushered her inside. A table set for two was placed in front of the fireplace. Grigori helped her remove her coat and laid it on the couch. Melisande noticed candles burning in the bedroom. She swallowed a little nervously. But then Grigori held out her chair for her, and she sat down facing him. She was very surprised, when a waiter and his assistant walked in, pushing a cart filled with covered dishes. Wine was quickly poured into glasses, and the first course presented.

Grigori asked about her work with ancient textiles and her expectations for her work in London. She answered his questions easily, warming to her subject. They talked and joked as the evening progressed. Melisande noticed how often Grigori touched her hand or brushed against her. When dessert was finished, Melisande knew she wanted nothing more than to be in this man's arms.

Grigori escorted Melisande to the sitting area in front of the window, while the waiters cleared the table. He tipped both men, then followed them to the door and locked it behind them. Finally, he was alone with his mate. He walked over and pulled Melisande up into his arms.

"
Splyashetye co mnoy
,
dance with me, Melika . . .”

"But we don't have any music"

"Listen to the music in your heart. I will guide you.”

Melisande let Grigori take her into his arms, and they danced. She was surprised at how good it felt to be close to him, swaying to music only Grigori heard. He was very graceful, and she wished there truly was music to dance to. She liked the way he called her Melika, an endearment in Russian. Melisande felt her breathing become more rapid, as a rush of awareness washed over her. She wanted this man, not just for tonight, but for always. It was both exhilarating and scary.

She felt almost as if she had known Grigori her whole life. She kept reminding herself they had just met. She didn't really know him. He said he was in London on business, but he never told her what kind of business. He spoke freely about coming from Siberia and how much he loved the forests and streams. He painted a beautiful picture with his words. She thought for a moment she actually saw a snapshot in her mind.

He gave her his complete attention, as if she was the most important person in his life. Right now she was feeling cherished and desired, and it relaxed her. Was she brave enough to take the next step with him?

Grigori felt her doubts through the heartmate bond. The bond grew stronger every moment they spent together. He didn't dare tell her that he was a shapeshifter and a wolf spirit shared his soul—not yet, anyway. To distract her, he reached up one hand and started to pull the clips from her hair. Once it lay soft upon her shoulders, he couldn't help running his fingers through the silky strands. Then he captured her face and moved slowly to kiss her. He smiled at her little groan of acceptance. He deepened the kiss and reached for the zipper on her dress. Then, unable to wait another minute, he slipped it down. With a gentle push, it landed at her feet.