The Legend of the Werewolf (8 page)

Footsteps stomped up the deck outside.
Shit! "I've got to go. Get down here fast."

She hung up just as Gordon stepped out
of the mudroom.

He stopped at the sight of her. She
smiled nervously, took one step, and was forced to a stop by the
cord still wrapped around her. Her eyes went back to Gordon as she
untangled herself. "Sorry."

Gordon walked by her, slamming a pile of
clothes onto the coffee table and picking up the moon stone. "I
tell you one thing, he certainly seems to believe he's Lord Hadrian
Vaughan. Whether or not your new boyfriend is actually the first
werewolf is another thing altogether."

He eyeballed her hard.

Anne tensed. "There's nothing going on
between us. I was only introduced to him this morning." Irritation
over his suspicion flooded her. She ignored the little voice in her
head reminding her she'd tried to kiss Mike less than a half hour
ago.

He glared at her over his shoulder. "See
that it stays that way. You're getting married to my son. We've had
this argument before and my decision isn’t going to
change."

Feeling brave, she prodded, "Then why
are you bringing it up? You're the one who said Mike's my
responsibility."

Gordon slammed the stone down. "I'm
beginning to doubt that decision. It's hard to keep your head clear
in the middle of the night when one of your pack mates comes home
with an unconscious man."

He stared long and hard at her, as
though trying to see through her. "Can I trust you to not get
attached? I've seen him looking at you." He sniffed the air. "I can
smell his scent wafting around you."

"I'll let him know I'm off limits." She
had no intention of doing that, but Anne stood straight and kept
her voice firm so there would be no doubting her words.

His distrust radiated off him. "See
that you do. I have to contact some people to see what they think
about the situation that we're in because of that rock. No point in
going back to bed now."

He walked away, down the hall and out
of sight.

The door to his office slammed. Anne
rolled her eyes and stalked off.

He knew perfectly well she and Westley
didn't want to get married. Who she decided to sleep with until the
wedding night was none of his business.

If only she had the balls to tell him
that.

When she got back to Mike's cabin, Brock
was sitting outside the door. Still a wolf and panting with his
tongue out in the heat. "I'll bring you some water in a
minute."

He yapped enthusiastically. Anne opened
the door and let herself in, eager to see more of her
guest.

She d
idn’t feel any less nervous though.
The way he defended her against Hadrian made the inward pull she
felt towards him grow stronger.

D
id she want to continue what nearly
happened in that bedroom with Mike because she was attracted to
him? Or because she wanted to spite Gordon?

He sat on the old couch, which faced the
door now, as if he moved it like that just so he could glare at her
when she came in. Kind of like how he and Brock were glaring at
each other the last time.

His eyes froze her blood. She stopped
without shutting the door. "What happened?"

"You never said you were
engaged."

She felt like someone cracked a mirror
over her head. She wanted to worm away someplace small and dark and
die. In a panic, her defense left her lips before she thought about
what she would say. "I'm not engaged."

"Oh?" He raised a brow at her. Anne
gulped. "Your grandfather seems to think otherwise."

She scowled at him and slammed the door.
She didn't want Brock hearing this. "You look kind of mad. Wanna
tell me why you think it's any of your business? Even if it were
true," she added.

"I tend to become insulted when a taken
woman doesn't mention she’s off limits."

She blushed. Yeah, she did almost kiss
him. Still wanted to. Even now, sucking in deep breaths, she could
smell him. His earthy scent surrounded her and made her warm. Which
was completely wrong since he was so mad at her.

"Not that it matters anyway," he
continued, "since I as only planning on tying you to the bed before
making my escape."

She gasped. The earthy scent was sucked
from her lungs as though a Dyson had been put over her mouth. "You
were going to what?"

He leaned deeper into the couch, slung
his hands back to cradle his head. Not the posture of someone who
had the intention of being nice.

She clenched her fists. All the
attraction she’d felt was replaced with sickening rage. She wished
for a witty retort but it didn't come. "You son of a
bitch."

He wagged a finger at her. "Leave my
mother out of it. She has nothing to do with loose
women."

She flew at him, regardless of the
consequences or how the rage took away her reasoning. She wanted
blood, her hands forming half claws as she lunged for his
jugular.

He was calm, collected, and therefore
faster.

He grabbed her wrists and turned out of
the way of her attack. The force of her surging body was used
against her as Mike spun her around and threw her to the
floor.

He twisted her arm behind her back and
added enough pressure for her to remember that she was the one who
was supposed to be keeping him safe.

She grit her teeth against the tightness
increasing in the muscles of her arm. Mike’s heavy knee came down
between her shoulder blades and she couldn’t move an inch. Her
shift immediately stopped. She’d barely realized that the wolf hair
was growing from out of her pores. That didn’t stop her from being
angry at her position. "If I so much as raise my voice, Brock will
come charging in here."

"And he'll bite me, which will change me.
If that happens, you know what the law says will happen to him. I
saw your claws coming out when you jumped at me. Did you know that
changing someone against their will is a serious
offence?"

"Only if I'm in Griffon city. Outside
that place you're no better than a mercenary."

"True, but then you would have some
serious explaining to do, considering that you brought me here and
all, Princess."

The nickname was like a slap in the face.
She shifted under him so that her cheek would be more comfortable
on the hardwood floor. She also wanted to see him. "I never asked
for people to call me that."

Disbelief rolled off him. "They just do
because of your winning personality?" He shook his head.
"Right."

She tried to buck him off but he added
more pressure to her arm. The steep pain held her still. "I'm
serious. Gordon is forcing me and Westley to get married. We don't
want to!"

***

Mike all but flew off her. So that was
it. A forced marriage.

"I'm sorry." He offered her his hand
when she turned over. She looked at it, then him, before
accepting.

He lifted her with little trouble. Though
she was tough as a mountain lion, she weighed about as much as a
feather pillow.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't
think werewolves still did arranged marriages."

She shrugged one shoulder and took two
steps away from him. "This is kind of an extreme circumstance for
Gordon. I mean, Westley and I grew up together. And, look at us.
Most people think we're brother and sister."

He didn't think telling her he thought
the same thing that night at the bar would be a good idea. He was
curious about what she said before that. "What kind of circumstance
warrants an arranged marriage?"

Anne shook her head. "Nothing. Never
mind."

He felt like such an ass. Being nicknamed
Princess because you were expected to marry the future leader of
the pack had to be tough. If there was ever a chance with her, he'd
blown it. "Listen, about that whole tying you up to escape
thing,"

She sent him a sharp glare.

"I didn't mean it."

She looked like she didn't believe him.
"So, that was just you trying to make me angry because you were
jealous I'm engaged?"

"No! I'm not jealous." He was such an
idiot he wanted to slap himself. He settled for calling himself
some pretty nasty names for answering so quickly.

She sauntered up to him, a saucy smirk on
her lips. "I think you were."

Her body was a hairsbreadth away from his
own, the heat generating between them shot straight to his groin.
He fought to keep from grabbing her again.

How could he tell her that the first time
he saw her he thought of a one night stand? She was a looker, would
probably make Westley one happy man should they ever grow attached
in a way that wasn't like siblings. But Mike didn’t want to think
about her being married to someone else.

Maybe he was a little
jealous.

She pat his chest. "Well, goodness me,
look at the time." She went to the old sink, filled a soup bowl
with water and put it outside for the giant that guarded them.
Then, she all but flopped onto the couch.

She stretched her body out and moaned. She
opened her eyes and grinned sleepily at him. "You should head to
bed now. Don't know about you, but I'm beat."

"Great." He’d had plenty of sleep
already. If watching her stretching on that couch, making herself
comfortable and moaning about it was the alternative, then it was
probably best he tried to get a little nap in.

Or a cold shower.

Back straight, he turned and headed to
the direction of his new room.

"By the way," Anne called. "Gordon is
going to invite a few other members of the pack over for
protection, and probably to see you."

He groaned. He was an object of staring
once in his life and he didn't feel like going back to
that.

Anne moaned again and turned around to
make herself more comfortable. The sight and sound reminded him of
how close he was to having her.

Reminded him of straight up, rolling
around, rough sex.

"Goodnight."

Fuck.

"Right, goodnight." He shut the door to
his new prison and headed straight for the bathroom.

Buzzed with lust and having the image
of her moaning and stretching like that, didn’t put him in the
right frame of mind to contemplate his situation. Nor would it put
him to sleep.

Mike lifted his Stetson to rub his sweat
soaked hair. He needed a subzero shower.

FIVE

After his shower, in a bathroom so small
Mike couldn't even stretch his elbows without hitting the walls, he
put on his old clothes and tried to sneak out the
window.

He needed to call Jason, his partner back
in Griffon. Hadrian could be afraid of werewolves all he liked,
that didn’t mean Mike had to sit on his ass.

He needed to get to that house and call
for backup before anyone got hurt.

His foot touched down on Brock's furry
back. The giant wolf released an ugly growl without raising his
head.

Mike jerked back inside his room,
stumbled over the nightstand and nearly fell over.

How did that wolf know?

"Son of a bitch," he hissed, tiptoeing to
the door. He cracked it open, painfully aware of its wailing creaks
as he did.

Anne’s eyes were closed like she was
sleeping. Her legs hung over the arm of the old chair and her chest
rose and fell in easy movements. Encouraged, he slunk out, shut the
door behind him and tip toed as gently as he could to the front
door.

"Don't even think about it."

Mike halted, his hand frozen over the
door knob.

He tilted his head. She still lay
sprawled lazily over the couch, her eyes half shut as she grinned
sleepily at him.

Mike rolled his eyes, clenched
his fists, and exhaled. God, he hated how werewolves could see,
smell, and hear
everything
. He couldn't even do something as simple as sneaking out
of this damn cabin.

He felt like a caught
teenager.

"I'll be right back," he
said.

She stretched like before, twisting and
purring with delight. "You’re not going into Gordon’s
house."

Rage ate him up like acid. He yanked the
door open and turned to walk out. Brock sat on his hunches waiting
for him, head bent, ears pointing back, teeth bared in a warning
snarl.

Mike glared back and slammed the door
on his nose, delighting in the painful yelp that
followed.

Anne bolted up. "You don't have to be
so mean. We're just doing as we're told."

Mike grumbled. "Yes, well, I've never
seen a pack so devoted to their pack master."

He felt like he was in the Middle Ages
where if the lord of the land demanded something then it was
promptly delivered.