o 35b0a02a46796a4f (12 page)

Liar!

“So I didn’t have any of your serum to give her.” Julian spoke more loudly, trying to drown out the accusing voice his head. Cade frowned. “Yet when we came into town just now, everyone welcomed her, and no one got a headache.”

“That’s impossible,” his brother insisted.

“Since it happened, guess not.”

“Who is this woman?”

“Name is Alexandra Trevalyn. Other than that.. .“ I shrugged. “You’ve never heard of this happening before?”

“Never.” Cade turned back to his computer, hit a few mo:

commands, then began to type. “Bring ‘her here. I’ll need sample of her blood?’

Julian sighed. He’d hoped Cade would have a scientific explanation ‘that would set Julian’s mind at ease, or that I brother would at least say that while he didn’t know cause, he
had
heard of the phenomenon a hundred times before.

No such luck.

Ella took Alex’s arm, ignoring her start of surprise. No o:

seemed to find it odd that they could touch, and since she’d been able to touch Julian, too, Alex guessed that this was another of the many ways that Barlow’s wolves were different.

Alex wasn’t used to being touched so often and so easily. She’d lived alone for eight years. On the move. No friends, no family. Few reasons to touch anyone at all. Especially not a stark-naked woman she’d only just met.

“Welcome,” Ella said. “We don’t often have new arrivals.”

As the others dispersed every which way, the woman led Alex across the square to a side street opposite the one down which Julian had disappeared. Had he chosen Ella simply because her home was the farthest from his?

“No?” Alex extricated her arm. “Why’s that?”

Ella glanced at her. “Hasn’t Julian explained about Barlowsville?”

“Barlowsville?” Alex repeated with a derisive snort. “What an ego.”

Ella frowned, her dark eyes confused, “You sound like you hate him.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Alex muttered.

“He is our leader, our maker.”

Alex stopped walking. “He made
all
of you?”

“Yes.”

Edward had been right. Barlow was amassing a werewolf army. Although. . . the army didn’t appear to be very big or very vicious. But give them time.

Ella beckoned. “I have clothes for you. We seem about the same size.”

And it was pretty easy to tell.

Alex followed the woman, who had the slightest of French accents, to a single-story house partway down a street filled with others just the same. They were so similar, they appeared to have all come from the same kit. Slanted roofs, boxy exterior, two windows at the front on either side of the door, each painted the same shade of white as the snow, with chimneys that spilled wood smoke into a sky of pristine blue.

Ella opened the door and walked inside. Alex was sur- prised the place hadn’t been locked. Although where would Ella have carried the key?

She followed the woman into the house, eyes widening the decor. She didn’t know anything about furniture, b Ella’s appeared both old and expensive.

“Nice,” she ventured, nodding toward the living room.

Gilt mirrors graced the walls. Elaborately hand-carved tables flanked chairs of ruby-red velvet and a couch of burnished gold.

“Merci.”
Ella smiled. “It has taken many years but I’-been able to reacquire most of my things.”

“These were actually yours when you were. .

“Human?” Ella smiled. “Yes.”

“How old are you?” Alex asked.

Ella put a hand on Alex’s arm. “Much,
much
older than I look.”

No shit,
Alex thought.

“Come.” Ella led her down a short hallway, pointing into one of the rooms. “Wear whatever you wish. I will make some café.”

When Alex hesitated, Ella gave her a little push, closed the door behind her.

Here the decor was more modern: a bed that could been purchased at Price Club—although Alex could not imagine Ella darkening their door—a nightstand of fake cherry wood, a lamp of false brass. However, upon the armoire—also fake cherry—sat several items that had definitely not bought at a discount store.

A brilliantly painted china cup, a tiny vanity, small en to fit into a doll’s house, but with intricate carvings that have driven the artist half mad, and a glass woman, dressed like Marie Antoinette.

Alex bent closer. Actually, the figure
was
Marie Antoinette. She was beginning to catch a clue as to how old Ella was.

Alex opened the armoire, afraid she’d discover frilly underwear, bras with enough lace to be at home on a Victoria’s Secret catwalk, and silky stockings that would be useless in his climate. She was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong.

Not that the undergarments weren’t too frilly for her taste, hut they weren’t embarrassingly so. Not that anyone would see them.

An image of Julian came to mind but she thrust it resolutely away. She was here to spy on him. To kill him if she could. There would be no repeat boinking of the man no matter how fantastic it had been.

Alex discovered serviceable black socks, along with a black turtleneck made of cashmere so soft she rubbed her face against it with a sigh as she slid it over her head. She’d never owned anything so fine.

“And you still don’t,” she muttered, moving to the closet. Inside the clothes were arranged by color, and there was a whole lot of black.

She chose a pair of black wool slacks, and she had to admit the outfit suited her, although she felt a bit like a cat burglar.

Shoes lined the floor. Unfortunately, they weren’t her size. Alex spent longer than she ever had in her life on her hair, which was tangled and littered with sticks. Since she had no comb or brush, she made do with her fingers, then quickly braided the length and secured it with an extra shoelace she found in a drawer. When she could avoid it no longer, Alex opened the door and went to the kitchen.

Ella sat on a tall chair at the center island, a tiny cup of very dark coffee in front of her. She was dressed in winter white. A bulky sweater with a cowl that dipped to the center of her chest, displaying a ruby in an elaborate filigree setting and wool slacks similar but for the color to the ones Alex wore.

She glanced up from the magazine she was paging through with a smile that faded at the sight of Alex. “Oh
non!”

She shook her head.

“Did I take something I shouldn’t have? I’ll change Alex spun, but she’d only gone two steps when Ella was her side. The speed in which the other woman had reach her caused Alex to start. Would she ever get used to swiftness of the werewolf in human form?

“All that I have is yours for the asking,
mon arnie.
But much black.” She made a tsking sound as she stepped past Alex and returned to the bedroom.

Alex followed, standing in the doorway as Ella rooted through the armoire.

“Ah-ha.” The woman flipped up her arm, and a gorge silk scarf unraveled. In all the shades of autumn—gold, set, amber, olive—it was not something Alex would ever1 chosen for herself. She’d never understood silk scarves.

certainly couldn’t keep you warm.

Ella crossed the short distance and draped it around neck. “Let it hang down, just so.” She stepped back, gazing at Alex with a critical eye. Then she stepped forward yanked the shoestring from Alex’s hair, tsking again. “Non.” She threw it into the trash and untangled the length from its braid.

“Oui.”
She gave a sharp, satisfied nod. “I knew this would bring out the lights in your hair.” She drew Alex to the full-length mirror attached to the back of the closet “Black is fine as a base, but add a flash of color and—“ She drew Alex to the full-length mirror attached to the back of the closet door. Black is fine as a base, but add a flash of color and-“ She kissed the tips of her fingers, then released them to the sky with a smooching sound. “Very chic.”

“Chic,” Alex repeated. “Right.”

She’d never been chic, would never be chic, did not know what chic meant. But Ella was right. The silly scarf did bring out highlights that Alex hadn’t even known she had.

“Thanks.” Alex’s gaze met the woman’s in the mirror. “It’s nice of you to help me.”

In her experience, people didn’t just help strangers for the Fun of it. There had to be something in it for them. She wondered what was in it for Ella.

“It’s my pleasure’ Ella replied, and her expression
was
pleased. Almost as if she enjoyed making Alex look as nice as she could, just
because
she could.

“You have a lot of beautiful things.”

“Merci.”

“I wouldn’t think you could find all this way up here.”

“Here?” Ella laughed, the sound throaty, sexy, very French. ‘Here we would find flannel shirts, Levi’s, snow boots, and parkas. This—” She waved her hand at the full closet. “—is what the Internet is for.”

“You use the Internet?”

“Most of us may be very old, but we have learned to leave our past behind?’ She glanced at the bric-a-brac on the armoire. “For the most part. We live in this world now.”

“You call hiding away in the Arctic Circle living in the world?” Alex asked.

“It is the only choice that we have.” Ella left ~he room, the downward slant of her shoulders making Alex want to slam her own head against the wall a few times until she knocked some sense into herself.

Alex had never had to watch what she said before. For the most part, everything Alex thought came straight out of her mouth. But then she’d never had to interact in polite society? And who would have thought a werewolf village in
ti
middle of the tundra would be considered polite society?

Alex followed Ella to the kitchen, where the woman wiped an already immaculate countertop with an equally pristine cloth.

“I was rude,” Alex began.

“It’s natural to wonder about your new home, but Julian must have told you why we live as we do.”

“So he can be Lord of the Wolves?”

“He
is
lord of these wolves. And because of that, because of him, we live safely and well. There are hunters out then Alex. They would shoot you with a silver bullet for no other reason than that you exist, then leave you to burn without backward glance.”

Alex had nothing to say to that since she had once be one of them.

Julian tapped on Ella’s door. When she didn’t answer, he went inside.

He found the two women sitting next to each other, fine china espresso cups near at band. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were poring over French fashion magazines.

What the hell?

“Problem, Julian?” Ella didn’t even look up from the magazine. She’d probably heard him come in the door.

Hell, she’d probably heard him walking up the street.

Alex on the other hand, leaped off the chair so fast she set it rocking back and forth; it would have fallen if Ella hadn’t reached out a slim, lovely hand to stop it.

“You—you just walk into anyone’s house whenever you like?” she demanded.

“I knocked.” Even to his ears, the words sounded defensive. “You were too busy with—” He waved his hand at the magazines, which
were
French and fashionable. Of all the things he might have expected Alex to be doing, this was not one of them.

“We were engrossed. Girl talk, Julian.”

Ella gave his name a French twist on the
J,
turning it into something between a
Z
and a G. She only did that when Si was irritated with him. What had he done? His eyes n rowed on Alex. What had she
said
he’d done?

“Unless there’s something urgent,” Ella continued, “I suggest you run along before we bore you to death?’

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Run along?’

He lifted a brow. “Is there some reason you don’t want me here?”

“How much time do you have?” she muttered.

Ella laughed, startling them both. Alex turned to her the same time Julian did, and together they snapped, “What’s so funny?”

Ella’s smile widened. “You pretend to loathe each ol but you do not. As they say on TV: ‘What is up with that

“You’re crazy,” Julian said.

“So I have been told.” She glanced back and forth between them. “Usually when I am right.”

Julian had sent Alex with Ella because Ella was the
n
no-nonsense woman he knew. She had an uncanny knack of seeing the true person behind the facade. He trusted her opinion.

But seeing her with Alex, shoulder-to-shoulder like best of friends, unnerved him. Didn’t Ella smell the evil on her? He could.

To prove the theory, Julian sniffed—once, twice. All he could smell was
her.

“What did you want, Julian?”

He’d come to bring Alex to Cade, but along the way realized they needed to have a talk. She should keep her mouth shut about who she was, what she’d done, why she here.

However. Now himself wondering if he should at least tell Ella the truth. It had not been fair of him to command the Frenchwoman to welcome the enemy into her home when she hadn’t even known the enemy was here. Ella’s sound judgment was obviously being clouded by—

What? He didn’t think Alex had the ability to pretend to be something she was not. From what he’d observed, she was pretty damn honest about everything. For instance— how very much she wanted to kill him.

“Come with me;’ he ordered, and stalked toward the front door, expecting Alex to follow. He would speak with her on the way to the lab, where she would give blood to his brother. He really wanted to know why she was migraine-free after being touched by nearly two hundred werewolves.

He opened the door, stepping back to let Alex go first. Except she wasn’t there. She was hovering in the entryway between the kitchen and the hail.

“I told you to come,” he said.

“I told you to die,” she returned. “But you’re still breathing.”

Quickly choked laughter drifted from behind her.

How could she deny his commands? No one else ever did.

However, when he observed more closely, he noticed that she would surreptitiously take two steps forward before clenching her hands, gritting her teeth, and taking a slow, difficult step back.

“Come,” he said again.