True Colors (3 page)

The world had turned barren and so treacherous it leached away the electric welcome of lights shining in the dark. The wind howled as though it was populated with invisible wolves on the hunt. It drove the snow with such force tiny needles of ice attacked any exposed skin.

There were two kinds of storms, Alice thought. One was a friendly kind that you could enjoy watching out the window with a cup of tea. It crashed around in the sky with theatricality but no real malice.

This storm was the other, the killing kind. There are horrors that exist in the night, the bitter wind said, horrors that only children and demons can see. There are horrors that exist in the mind as well, that only the individual can bear witness to. The winter wind sang of things that the mind did not quite remember but that fear never forgot, filled as people are with the haunts and tragedies that make up the shadows of their lives. We can’t endure them, the wind whispered, for when the light and warmth are truly taken we are left shivering naked in the dark. Then we hear a nearby husky chuckle that tells us we are prey.

Not even the lights of the 94th Precinct could offer Alice any comfort as the square brick-and-stone building appeared suddenly, a great, hulking, shadowed mass in the gray-and-black night. Faceless evil destroyed her friends and stalked her community. The grief and fear were crushing.

Then there was this, a different kind of reason to shake, an impossible sense of
knowing
about someone she didn’t know at all. The conviction invaded her bones and assaulted her skeptical, resisting soul.

She didn’t want a mate. She didn’t even like to date. All of those questions everybody asked, the same ones, over and over. What do you do for a living? What do you do for fun? What do you like to eat? Are you seeing anybody else?

Did anybody ever answer those questions truthfully on the first date?

Alice’s tendencies followed her shy Wyr nature. She was a quiet person who liked solitary pursuits. She enjoyed reading, quilting, long walks and biking in parks, camping and books on tape. Her idea of going renegade was to make a radical departure from a food recipe. While she adored all fifteen of the quirky, rambunctious children in her classroom, she often spent her evenings at home recovering from the intense social interactions of the day. She got her social needs met by the routine get-togethers of her group, other teachers at lunch, periodic phone calls and letters to her parents and, oh gods,
Haley
.

The gigantic menacing stranger—what had Garcia called him? Detective Gideon Riehl. He couldn’t be who she thought he was. She had to be suffering from some kind of internal system malfunction, a strange by-product from all the stress of the last few days.

Wyr were deadly when they turned criminal. By definition, anyone who worked in the New York Police Department’s elite WDVC lived a violent, dangerous life. In order to bring down criminal Wyr, the members of the WDVC had to be better, more efficient killers than the Wyr they hunted. Alice couldn’t imagine anyone more unlike her. No wonder he had terrified her.

Had he felt something when he’d first laid eyes on her? Did he share the same, insane conviction that she was his mate? If he hadn’t, she had to worry about herself. If he had, then she had a whole lot of other things to worry about.

She caught sight of Detective Riehl’s unmistakable, immense figure as he paced in front of the precinct’s doors. He was bare-headed, his battered leather jacket unzipped. Apparently he was immune to the brutal blizzard shrieking around him. Riehl turned as Garcia pulled the patrol car over to the curb. He was already striding forward as the cruiser slowed to a smooth stop.

A powerful insanity took over Alice as she watched him approach. He moved his massive body with athletic, sure fluidity, those impossibly long legs of his making short work of the distance between them. His light-colored gaze fixed on her with the same unnerving intensity as earlier, but instead of filling her with panic, this time she knew that he was her only shelter from the killing storm.

Her gaze clung to him, her breath sawing in her throat as she groped for a handle, only belatedly remembering there weren’t handles in the back of a police car when Riehl reached out and gently opened the door for her. His icy gaze steady, he held out both powerful hands to her.

Maybe she meant to run. The part of her that continued to be appalled wanted to. The greater part of her, the insane part, reached for his outstretched hands with both of hers. His palms were hot and calloused under her fingers. He supported her weight as she somehow got her trembling muscles to work and climbed out of the car. Her teeth were audibly clacking, her pride nowhere to be found. He gave her face one keen, searching glance then he simply enfolded her in his arms. His warmth and scent surrounded her, and the relief and comfort were indescribable.

“Everything’s going to be all right now,” he rumbled quietly in her ear. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She gave up all thought of running, abandoned every sense of pride and propriety, and leaned against his broad, muscled chest. It felt like a strong and sturdy home.

Now that they were up close and personal, Riehl found Alice Clark such a wee little thing, he could almost pick her up and put her in his pocket. He rubbed her slender back as she huddled against him. For some reason his heart had decided to do a jackhammer tempo. The wolf in him growled as she trembled, but he kept a stern hold on his beast. Now was not the time to go all Cujo on anybody and run the risk of freaking her out even further. But he angled his head and bared his teeth in silent warning as the two uniforms stepped out of the police car and approached a little too close.

The male uniform held up his hands in a placating gesture. The female narrowed her eyes on him and said deliberately, “Ms. Clark, do you need anything else from us?”

Riehl’s snarl deepened as Alice’s arms fell away from his waist. She would have turned away from him too except he refused to let her go. She turned her head instead. Her wild, adorable, gold-tipped corkscrew curls tickled his chin, and he wanted to rub his face all over her as she said, “No. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” said the female. She gave him an extra glare before turning away with her partner as they went back to their shift.

Alice tilted her head to look up at him. He assessed her strained expression. Thin, gold, wire-rim glasses framed large hazel eyes, brilliant with flecks of blue and green, against cocoa-and-cream skin so lustrous it made his mouth water with the urge to lick her everywhere. Her delicate, somewhat ascetic features were smudged with tearstains and lingering traces of fear. Standing out in the frigid cold, her shivering had increased.

Those beautiful eyes of hers were stark with too much emotion and remembered horror. He came to another one of his quick decisions and told her, “I’m taking you home.”

Surprise bloomed like an unfurling flower in her tense, closed-down face. She asked, “You’re not going to question me?”

“Yes, but you’ve been through one hell of a shock. Anything we have to say to each other can be done in the comfort of your own place,” he said.

He put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward his vehicle, a black, unmarked, late-model Jeep Cherokee. She didn’t protest but moved at his side like an automaton. He unlocked the doors with the key fob and opened the passenger door for her. Once she was settled, he moved swiftly around to the driver’s side.

With a quick sidelong glance, he made sure she had fastened her seat belt before starting the Jeep and pulling out. He could feel through the steering wheel how treacherously slick the road had become. The engine was still warm, so he turned the heater on full blast for her. If he had been by himself, he wouldn’t have bothered. In most instances, he generated enough body heat for his own comfort.

Riehl had come to realize just how used he had gotten to roughing it since he had taken the new job. A recruit at age twenty, he had been in the army for longer than most human life spans. His wolf was still not comfortable with the decision to retire. Whenever he was in compact living quarters like the vic’s—like Haley Moore’s place—he often felt as if he might knock things over if he moved too quickly.

In fact, these last several months he had been entertaining serious doubts about his decision to leave army life and settle in the city. He hadn’t been sure he could make the adjustment. The wolf had been satisfied with a roaming lifestyle, and the army had given him the sense of pack that he needed. It was the man who had gotten restless and decided it was time to make a change, but the restlessness hadn’t subsided when he had relocated and changed jobs.

In fact, it hadn’t subsided until just now.

He sent another thoughtful sidelong glance at his passenger. The storm was really dumping it outside, and white snowflakes had caught in her hair. They were melting in the warmth of the car. The remaining moisture sparkled on her like a net of tiny jewels. The line of her profile was sad, even stern, her delicate mouth straight and unsmiling. She was grieving, and he was the hind end of a donkey because he couldn’t stop staring at her, and all he could think about was what it might take for him to get her naked.

He felt it again, the shift of the world’s axis, the conviction that true north had moved and nothing would ever be the same again.

He felt it. He just had no idea what it meant.

The drive to her apartment should have been a short one but the weather made it much longer. Alice glanced at Riehl a few times when he took the correct route without asking. Her hands tightened as she clasped them together in her lap but she remained silent. He hadn’t had time to do much when dispatch had contacted him, but he’d done a quick search on her name. Alice Clark, age thirty-five. Hell, he’d been in the army for longer than she’d been alive, for over twice her lifetime. DMV records stated she owned a Prius. He wondered if, like a lot of city dwellers who were car owners, she was a weekend driver.

Her address turned out to be a garden apartment in a brownstone near Prospect Park. After they parked, he followed her down the shallow, ice-slick steps to her front door. The decorative wrought iron security grille on the front window was coated in ice. Heat blasted him in the face as they stepped inside. He was already stripping off his jacket as she locked and bolted the front door.

Her pretty hazel gaze rose to his face and skittered away as her hands moved to unfasten the buttons of her black wool coat. Christ almighty, watching her disrobe even that small amount hit him like a mule kick. He sucked air and pivoted away to stare at the wall.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I would like to change into some dry clothes.” She sounded breathless, her voice barely over a whisper, and it was so sexy it was as if she had run a finger lightly down his bare spine.

He shuddered, made a herculean effort and managed to articulate a few words. “You do that.”

She switched on every light as she left. In her absence the room seemed too empty. As Riehl waited, he prowled through her living room and stood in the doorway to peer into the kitchen/dining area. The apartment was too hot, of course, but he knew it would be. Alice’s home was larger than Haley Moore’s apartment. It looked like it might actually have two bedrooms, and there was a back door. The spacious room was decorated with a few colorful sunflowers strategically placed to accent sage green cabinets. A stacked washer and dryer sat in an alcove that could be hidden by a wooden folding door cover. A sturdy, plain oak table with four chairs sat in the dining area.

He moved to look out the back door’s window, noting with approval that it was covered with a security grille as well. What he could see through the storm’s white-out was a small back garden surrounded by a privacy fence, now shadowed and covered with a thick blanket of snow. That tiny piece of real estate would be a refreshing haven in the spring, summer and fall.

So she didn’t flaunt it, but she had more money than her friend. She could afford a bigger place with a garden, and to keep a car in the city.

Riehl moved back into the living room. Plain, comfortable furniture in earth tones, a couch, a rocker and one of those long chair thingies—what were they called? A chaise lounge. Lots of bookcases filled with a variety of hardcover books and paperbacks, potted plants all over the place, truly beautiful handmade quilts folded and laid along the backs of the couch and chairs, and in one corner another half-finished quilt was in a round hoop set in a floor stand. Several pieces of original artwork hung on the walls, lush jungle scenes filled with rich greens and the occasional spray of exotic flowers. Riehl wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, an art aficionado, but they all had a similar style and seemed to be from the same artist. A glass-paned gas fireplace was set against one wall.

Alice had used the dimensions of the room well to create an oasis. It looked comfortable while also conveying a sense of space, brightness and a touch of outdoors. He turned on the gas fireplace and stood back. Strategically placed area lamps helped to create a quieter evening mood. With the flickering gas flames, he could almost imagine lounging at a fire ring outside surrounded by living greenery. Both wolf and man heartily approved.

Gentle sparks of her Power dotted the home, more like soft glows than anything else. The place smelled like her, that delicate, evocative, tantalizing scent. He took deep breaths and felt the tension between his shoulder blades ease. Her place was attractive and welcoming, but not fussy or pretentious. He didn’t feel claustrophobic here. He felt good.

He heard her moving around in her bedroom and imagined her taking the rest of her clothes off. Instantly his cock hardened and strained against the confines of his zipper.

He was such a guy. Could he get more reprehensible?

She’d just had one of the worst days a body could have, and it wasn’t over yet because, much as he wanted to let her rest and recover, Riehl was going to have to question her. He should be thinking about what he could do to help her out, not how she would taste, how she would feel writhing under him as he drove into her elegant body.