A Werewolf in Manhattan (35 page)

She closed her eyes. “So if I slip somehow, they’ll come after you.”
They’ll kill you.
She couldn’t make herself say that part.

“You won’t slip, Emma. I have great faith in you.”

She opened her eyes to gaze into his beloved face. “Look, I know you’ll end up with a Were wife someday soon, and I’m cool with that, but—”

“Are you?”

“No, but it seems like the right thing to say. You obviously want me out of here ASAP, so I thought it would be classy to wish you a happy life. But the thing is, I don’t want to lose touch, because communicating with you will help me remember not to screw up accidentally. You’re like my lucky charm.”

“Your lucky charm.” He didn’t seem all that pleased with that.

“All right. You mean a lot more to me than a four-leaf clover embedded in a plastic key ring, but since we’ll be going our separate ways, I think we should—”

“Do you want to go your separate way, Emma?”

She looked into his eyes, searching for the wolf and finding the warm gaze of a man, instead. “Do I have a choice?”

Slowly he nodded.

Her breath caught. “But I’m human. And your mother hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s the one who advised me to bind you. And the sooner, the better.”

That jacked up her heart rate. “You’ll have to define this binding thing.” Tension coiled within her, and she tried to ease it with a joke. “If it’s whips and chains, then I’m not interested.” She didn’t think that for a minute.

He touched his thumb to her lower lip and stroked softly back and forth. “We came close to it that first night in the hotel. I made sure we never came that close again.”

She gulped.

“If we make love that way tonight, you’ll be bound to me forever, and I to you. It’s the strongest bond possible, stronger than anything forged in a church or a law office, stronger even than blood. In our world, there’s no such thing as divorce. A wolf mates for life.”

She began to tremble, but clutching his muscled shoulders did a lot to steady her. And arouse her. “Does a wolf mate for love?”

“Apparently this one does.”

She sighed.
Right answer.

“I’ve fought it with every breath in my body, Emma, but I can’t fight it anymore. I love you. And because I do, I must give you the choice to walk away. I want what’s best for you.”

She cradled the back of his head in both hands. “I’m thinking that would be you, hotshot.”

His steady gaze didn’t waver. “You need to consider your answer carefully. Living my life wouldn’t be easy.”

“I’ll say. Riding around in town cars, staying in luxury hotels, eating truffles. But just so you know, if anybody gives me a watch worth eight hundred large, I’m hawking it and donating the money to charity.”

Still, he didn’t crack a smile. “You’ll have to be alert at all times so you don’t accidentally give away our secret. You can’t tell anyone, not even your mother or your best friend.”

She knew better than to joke about that. “I understand.”

“You could face antagonism from the other Weres, although no one would dare snub you when I’m around. Still, I can’t promise that the Were community will ever accept you.”

“Maybe not, but think of the research possibilities.”

Finally he gave up and grinned. “Is that all I am to you? A research assistant?”

She massaged the back of his neck. “Research assistant, dance partner, cabana boy ... love of my life.”

His grin faded, and heat flickered in his gaze. “Say that last part again.”

“Love of my life. I love you, Aidan. Whatever this binding process is, I want it.”

The wolf emerged from the golden depths of his eyes. “You could get pregnant.”

“Will our children be Were?”

“We won’t know. Can you—can you live with the uncertainty?”

Her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy. “The only certainty I need is that you love me.”

“I do.”

Stepping away from him, she pulled her sweater over her head. “Then show me, Aidan.” She stripped off her slacks and dispensed with her bra and panties. “Show me how a Were binds his mate.”

And so he did.

She’d expected wild and primitive. Instead he was tender and slow. He guided her down in front of the fire, and as the heat caressed her quivering body, he took her slowly from behind, easing into her with murmured words of praise and gratitude.

The slow rhythm spoke of passion, but also of intense emotion. He took his time loving her, holding her hips steady for each firm thrust. As her orgasm drew near, he seemed to sense it.

With a low growl, he increased the pace. This was more what she’d expected. She’d braced her hands on the floor, and he placed his hands on top of hers. His chest brushed her spine and his thighs slapped hers with ever faster strokes.

She cried out when the first spasm of her climax hit. Lifting his hand from hers, he combed her hair away from her neck. As she rode the waves of the most intense orgasm of her life, he surged forward and raked the back of her neck with his teeth. Then he came, shuddering silently against her and gasping for breath.

“It is done.” He gulped for air. “We are bound.” Gently he pulled her down to the rug and curled his body around hers. “I love you, Emma.” He kissed the spot where his teeth had been.

She took a long, shaky breath. “I love you, too, Aidan. And when I recover sufficiently, I’m biting you back.” She felt his smile against her skin.

“Anytime, my love. Absolutely anytime.”

Epilogue

“Well, big brother, looks like you’ve pulled off the society wedding of the year.” As stirring organ music filled the church, Roarke stood next to Aidan and gazed out at the expectant faces of New York City’s A-list. “If only they knew this is a mere formality.”

“Some of them do,” Aidan said. His father had invited his friends from each of the other packs, so the room was a mix of humans and Weres.

“So far they’ve all been pretty cool about Emma.”

“Yeah. That’s saved me from having to kick some ass.”

“Which I know you’re fully prepared to do. I just about plotzed when you took on the old man that night.”

“And I’ll always remember that you backed me up, Roarke. I owe you one.”

“You owe me several. Let’s not forget making me stand up here in this monkey suit. I wouldn’t be doing that by choice, either.”

“Yeah, you would. You love it. You’ll have your pick of the women at the reception.”

“There’s a pleasant thought.” Roarke smiled. “Will you look at the ’rents sitting out there, proud as punch, both acting like they’ve won the lottery? After all the bitching and moaning about their new daughter-in-law’s lineage, they’re totally on board. Emma’s won them over.”

“I never doubted it.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, there were some dicey moments.” He thought back over the fight with Theo, the disapproval of his parents, the ultimate confrontation with his father.

“Well, you’re about to have the payoff for sticking it out. Here’s a moment for you, bro. Your lady love approacheth.”

Roarke didn’t have to tell him that. Aidan had caught Emma’s scent the moment she’d stepped out of the chamber where she and her mother had finished preparing for the ceremony. She walked arm in arm with her mother, who served as her only escort and attendant, just as Roarke was his.

Aidan hadn’t been allowed to see Emma since yesterday, and the night had been long, indeed. Now he drank in the sight of her like a man presented with a feast after starving for days. Everyone else became a blur as he focused all his senses on her.

Her lace dress flowed in a graceful column down her still-slim body, and her veil, also of hand-woven lace, cascaded down her back. She’d chosen not to cover her face, and he applauded that choice. The joy of impending motherhood made her skin glow and her blue eyes sparkle.

He was the only one who knew that she was three months pregnant with the child they’d conceived the night of the binding, and he liked knowing they shared the secret. They would tell it when they were ready. Emma was good at keeping secrets.

He hadn’t realized what a great secret keeper she was until he’d watched her provide partial truths to her inquisitive mother. Thanks to Emma’s talent for fiction, Betty Gavin believed that her daughter was marrying a wealthy bachelor whose parents traveled outside the country frequently, often taking Aidan and Emma with them. That was the story Emma had created to explain why the Wallaces were only occasionally in the city and why they preferred having rooms at the Waldorf to owning a place in Manhattan.

The life that Aidan had feared would become a burden to Emma had proven to be an exciting challenge instead. Her fascination with the Were community won her more converts every day. Some Weres were already suggesting plots and characters for future projects.

His father still insisted on reading everything she wrote, but she’d taken that with good grace. She said she actually found some of his literary comments helpful in developing her stories. Now instead of resenting him as a censor, she seemed to enjoy him as an editor. Aidan was learning from her that confrontation wasn’t always the best way around his father.

He’d learned much from his mate, in fact, and knew that in the years ahead, he’d become wiser still. Sometimes when he was with her, he even took the subway.

But they would not ride the subway today. A white limo waiting outside the church would take them to the Rainbow Room and the Waldorf. Later tonight, it would transport them to a private runway where the corporate jet would fly them in style to St. Barts.

On some things he refused to compromise, and when it came to giving Emma a day to remember and the honeymoon of her dreams, he would shower her with luxury.

Most of all, though, he would shower her with love. When he took her hand and turned to the minister, his heart was so full that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to voice the required responses. But when the time came and the minister asked whether he would take this woman, he found the words came easily.

He gazed down at Emma’s smiling face and poured every ounce of his love into his pledge. “I will.”

Abby Winchell had loved imagining that from the time she’d been old enough to wander alone on her grandfather’s property, about thirty miles outside Portland. As she trudged through the early-morning mist, damp leaves squished under her hiking boots and the evergreens dripped in a steady, familiar rhythm. Otherwise, the forest was quiet, but she kept her hand on the camera tucked inside her jacket pocket, just in case she saw something big and furry.

Ten days ago, after a lifetime of fruitless searching, Grandpa Earl Dooley had seen not one, but
two
big furry creatures. A Bigfoot mated pair! But his evidence was maddeningly inconclusive. His single grainy shot could easily have been a picture of two very tall hikers wearing hooded sweatshirts. Two exceedingly smelly hikers. Grandpa Earl claimed the stench had been overpowering, even from a hundred yards away.

While Earl had struggled to attach his zoom lens, the creatures had loped off. Earl’s arthritis had kept him from giving chase, and a heavy rain had washed out any footprints. That left Earl with only one bad picture to corroborate his story.

It had been enough for the Bigfoot faithful. Earl had made the trip to town and told everyone down at his favorite bar, Flannigan’s. News had spread quickly among the cryptozoology crowd. As happy as he’d been about finally realizing his dream of a Bigfoot sighting, Grandpa Earl hadn’t been all that pleased with the consequences.

With the exception of Abby, his family down in Arizona had thought he was losing his marbles. Curiosity seekers had trespassed on his property. And his wealthy neighbors, the Gentrys, had flown in some big-deal NYU professor to label the sighting bogus. Having Dr. Roarke Wallace challenge Earl’s claim had cut down on the trespassers, but Abby’s grandfather smarted under the insinuation that he was either gullible or a nutcase.

Abby had volunteered to take a week off from her job as an insurance-claims adjuster in Phoenix to check on Grandpa Earl. She’d promised the rest of the family that she’d convince him to sell the land and the general store with its attached living quarters so he could move to the desert, where his loved ones could keep an eye on him. He might have agreed to do it, too, now that he’d seen Bigfoot and possibly Bigfoot’s mate.

But that damned professor had gotten her grandfather’s hackles up, and he wanted to prove the stuffed shirt wrong. Grandpa Earl was also convinced the Gentrys had been smearing his reputation on purpose, because they hoped he’d leave and they could buy his land. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Abby didn’t blame him. The Gentrys had been trying to buy out the Dooleys for at least seventy years. Both pieces of property backed up to a wilderness area, so if the Gentrys got Grandpa Earl’s land, they’d be sitting on one of the most secluded private estates around.

And the Gentrys loved their seclusion. She could imagine how horrified those highbrows must have been to hear about the Bigfoot sighting. Flying in a Ph.D. from some Eastern school had fit the Gentry mentality. No doubt the guy was a condescending jerk.

The Gentrys were like royalty in Portland, and as a kid, Abby had often climbed a rocky promontory on Dooley land because it provided a view of the obnoxiously huge Gentry mansion. She had decided to do that again this morning for old time’s sake. The estate was off-limits to all but a selected few, so spying on them had always appealed to her sense of mischief.

Other than this view from the promontory, the heavily wooded estate couldn’t be seen except from the air. A tall iron gate at the main road barred anyone from driving up to the mansion unannounced, and a sheer rock wall dropped fifty feet below the promontory. The steep cliff continued along the property line for about half a mile, neatly dividing Gentry land from Dooley land.