Black Wolfe's Mate (Paranormal Shifter Romance) (2 page)

“And how much did that amount to?” Derrick mused aloud. He guessed not much. The woman did not seem to take advantage of any of his resort’s extra pleasures, her clothing was inexpensive and simply made, and she wore no jewelry that he had seen. There was nothing about her appearance that might suggest even the tiniest bit of affluence.

“Grand total: twenty-seven thousand, four hundred and eighty-two dollars.”

A mere pittance
, Derrick thought idly. He could probably open any drawer in his chambers and manage to fist more than that. Though, that was expected for a man who’d had centuries to find his niche.

“How much did she deposit into her account here?”

Each guest had a personal account from which funds were drawn to pay for their stay as well as any charges incurred. Derrick had never subscribed to the use of credit cards and it hadn’t seemed to hurt his business at all. Despite the abysmal global economic conditions that rose and fell with each generation, Wolfe Island suites was nearly always booked solid. There was even a waiting list.

“Twenty-six thousand, five hundred.”

Derrick frowned. Why would a woman cut all ties with the outside world and put nearly every cent she had into a vacation? She hadn’t seemed the impulsive, reckless type. His exclusive, isolated resort was not cheap. Twenty-six thousand dollars would barely cover a week, and it appeared she could hardly afford that much.

Vaguely, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to that extra thousand.

Silas answered his unspoken question. “Plane fare — mid-week, commercial with three layovers — was nearly seven hundred dollars. The rest was spent on discount summer clothing at a Walmart several days prior to her departure and a brief stop at the mainland gift shop the day she arrived.”

Despite himself, Derrick was intrigued. “What of her family?”

Silas didn’t even blink. “None that we can ascertain. Her parents died in a car crash when she was ten years old. She lived with distant relatives until she accepted an academic scholarship to a private school on the east coast of the United States. Did an apprenticeship for Golden Goddess before accepting a permanent position there.”

Derrick’s frown deepened. No family. No money. No job. No residence. It was almost as if Angelica Xanthopoulos didn’t exist. Not to anyone but him, anyway. He couldn’t seem to get the woman out of his mind.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing of interest,” Silas said casually, though Derrick knew he was watching him closely. Judging by the intensity of Silas’ current scrutiny, his sentinel probably already knew of his unfortunate encounter earlier. Whether or not it warranted concern remained to be seen.

They stood in silence for a few moments, two sets of preternaturally acute eyes watching the small, lone figure far below. Shadows from adjacent outcroppings lengthened, nearly obscuring her in the fading light.

“There was another attack,” Silas said quietly.

Derrick’s attention on the woman splintered, his ability to multi-task a direct result of the duplicity of his nature. “When?”

“A week or so ago.”

“And we are just hearing of this now?” Derrick’s lips thinned. If there was one good thing about the technological advancements of the current age, it was that information could be conveyed in the blink of an eye. There was no excuse for the delay of a week or more, not when his race was being hunted to extinction.

“The lair was in a remote location. The digital and satellite systems were compromised.” The same as the last three pack attacks — packs who wanted nothing more than to be left alone to live peacefully according to the laws of their nature.

Derrick cursed the recent popularization of the paranormal. Most humans didn’t look past the pure entertainment value, losing themselves in fantasies that such creatures co-existed with them. But there were always those who took it a step further, who fired up their synapses and connected the dots to conclude that nearly all legends, no matter how unlikely, were based on some measure of truth. And among them, the zealots who made it their personal goal to discover and rid the world of such “evil”. It sickened him. Who were the true monsters?  

“Survivors?”

“A few adolescents who had snuck away to the nearest town for a little fun and found the mess when they returned. They sent out the call as soon as they could.”

“That’s all?”

Silas’ eyes darkened. “It was a massacre. Dozens confirmed dead, with a few unaccounted for as of yet. 

“And the adolescents?”

“Dieter and Niko have gone for them. They should arrive tomorrow.”

Derrick nodded. “Good. Keep me posted.”

He returned his attention to the window. The tide had risen substantially and still, she sat, seemingly unaware of everything around her. Except him. She was always aware of him when he went to her. He knew by her accelerated heart rate, the quickening of her breath.

He wanted to go to her now, but he couldn’t risk it. Not after his earlier debacle. No, it was best if he kept his distance. Let someone else handle it. Someone who hadn’t tasted her and wanted to do so again.

“Silas, see to it that our guest is made aware of the peril she faces.”

Silas’ eyes once again followed Derrick’s. “Does she not realize she will soon be cut off?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Apparently not. Enlighten her, will you?”

Silas gave a slight nod. “One must wonder what has captured her attention so that she fails to realize such grave danger,” he mused softly.

Derrick cast him a warning glance, but Silas was already gone.

T
he moon rose full and unchallenged in the cloudless sky. It caressed his fur, as glossy and black as the hair on his head in human form. Even now, it still bore her mark. He could feel her gentle but insistent fingers in it, although the sensation now carried across his entire body. He lifted his head and howled.

He had run for miles and miles across the uninhabited side of the island. That section was strictly off limits to guests after dusk, so he and those like him could roam freely in their alternate forms without fear of being discovered. But this night, neither the lush tropical vegetation nor the powdery white sand, both painted silver by the moon, gave him the solace he so desired.

Foolish woman. Muddled female. Crazy bitch
. This was all her fault. Damn it all, but he had other things to think about. Important things. He could not allow himself to be distracted by a single, fragile human, no matter how much his beast was secretly — and inexplicably — drawn to her.

His massive paws padded softly back toward the castle. He had exhausted himself, pushing himself to the limit in an effort to expel her scent from his lungs, her taste from his tongue. It had proven futile. If he managed to completely avoid her for the remainder of her stay, which could only be a couple of days at most given her meager means, he just might be able to retain some measure of sanity and—

“Well, hello there.”

He froze instantly at the sound of that voice.
Her
voice. She wasn’t supposed to be here! He had been so consumed with thoughts of avoiding her that he had unwittingly walked right into her. The irony was not lost on him. And he was not a big fan of irony. It had a tendency to bite him on the ass, and Derrick preferred to be the one doing any biting.

She sat in the shadows of a massive palm, looking out over the crashing surf. Even in his wolf form, he towered above her. Sitting as she was, her head was barely level with his shoulder. Maybe therein lie his salvation.

He stalked forward several steps, flattened his ears against his head, and gave her his best feral glare.

She blinked, momentarily shuttering those brown-green-gold eyes made luminescent in the waxing moon. Such unusual eyes for a human. For a moment, he wondered if she had any shifter blood in her ancestry, then dismissed it. It mattered not.

He curled his black lips back, revealing massive, glistening white fangs, and growled.

Her eyes widened a bit; he scented her sudden fear on the light breeze.
Good
. Maybe it would rouse a healthy dose of common sense in her and get her the hell away from him.

But she didn’t move, and he cursed himself.
Stupid!
He’d overdone it and now she was undoubtedly frozen in terror, afraid that any move would put her on the late night snack menu. Of course, he could always tone it down a bit, or better yet, just turn and lope away.

“Well, get on with it then,” she said, startling him. It was his turn to blink. His ears perked up and he tilted his head slightly to the side, certain he had heard incorrectly. He had half a mind to turn around and see if she was talking to someone behind him, but his senses already told him there was not another sentient creature in the immediate vicinity.

“If you’re going to kill me, go ahead and do it already. You’d be doing me a favor, actually.”

He blinked again. And then she did the most amazing thing of all. She pushed back volumes of her golden hair — and it was
not
blonde, it was most definitely golden — and inclined her head, pulling down the collar of her top as she did so, revealing the creamy, perfect, unmarred flesh of her neck and throat to him.

What the hell?

He sat on his haunches, bemused, his head tilting further as he regarded her. Eyes closed, face resigned, fear wafted up from her very skin along with something else he hadn’t noticed before. Something incongruous with the rest of her. Something he could not easily identify. He closed his jaws and leaned forward, sniffing.

One eye opened cautiously, then the other. When he made no move toward her, her hands dropped away. “Coward,” she mumbled, then sighed heavily. Derrick hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close until her hand was suddenly cupping his head again, scratching behind his ears. It was glorious! He moved his head this way and that so her blessed nails would reach other areas as well. A second hand joined the first and she laughed softly.

It was the sweetest of music.

But why wasn’t she running? She should be terrified. In this form, he was fierce, lethal.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered, stroking his fur appreciatively. Derrick had never allowed anyone such a privilege before. He wondered why he was doing so now.

“No,” she corrected, “I take it back. Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it. You are...
magnificent
.”

Derrick’s muscled chest puffed out, the vanity of the wolf properly stroked as well as his coat. His intense blue eyes met hers. Once again, he was stricken by the unusual color. There were flecks of green and gold and brown, ever changing from one moment to the next.

“Will you sit with me for a while?” she asked, running her small hand from his shoulder down to his haunches in a coaxing caress. “Or will you run from me, too?”

Inwardly, he bristled at her words. Him? Run away from anything?
Never!
Yet, upon further reflection, he could see why she might think that. She had dared to kiss him, and like an untried pup, he had run away. It had been for good reason, of course, but he should have been able to exhibit more control than that. Something about this unusual woman was inciting uncharacteristic behavior on his part.

He would not run this time.

“Here,” she said, reaching for something on the other side of her. Derrick stiffened, ready to attack if need be, but there wasn’t. The moment she unwrapped the dark linen napkin, a familiar smell assaulted him. Derrick recognized it immediately as one of Antoine’s special pastries. “Dessert always tastes better if you have someone to share it with. Don’t you agree?”

She broke the pastry in half and held it out to him. He briefly considered not taking it — he was not some mangy stray looking for scraps, after all — but he had the oddest notion that it would hurt her feelings if he refused. And Antoine
did
make a fine pastry.

He let his ultra-sharp canines graze the pads of her fingers as he took what she offered, but she didn’t pull back like she should have. Then — and he really should have been completely ashamed of himself for this — he licked her fingers.

“Good, huh?” she chuckled, spreading her fingers wider so he could get all the icing. “Here.”  She held the other half out to him. She hadn’t even taken a bite.

He didn’t accept it. Instead, he nudged her hand to push the pastry back toward her.

“You want me to have it?” she asked, both surprised and amused. In answer, he panted softly and allowed his large pink tongue to loll out the side of his mouth. The smile she gave him was priceless, as if no one had ever done such a thing before.

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a bite. “This is good.” He watched her until she ate the whole thing. Several times, she tried to offer more to him, but he just pushed it back to her.

“Such manners,” she murmured. “If only people treated each other as kindly.”

What an odd thing to say
, Derrick thought. Had someone been rude to her?

It was yet another thing he didn’t understand about this woman. How could anyone be rude to such an obviously gentle creature? Then he remembered how he had forcefully shoved her away only hours earlier. The sound her fragile bones had made against the solid rock made him wince inwardly. He glanced at her arms to see if there was any bruising, but her loose sleeves extended halfway down her forearms, preventing him from getting a good look.

When she finished, Derrick dropped his head and gave her a solid nudge. He then lowered his body to the ground, crowding her. She watched, fascinated, until he swiveled his head back and pointedly lifted her hand with his snout. While the man in him would not allow such familiar contact, the beast wanted her to touch him.

“More petting, huh?” she laughed. He chuffed softly in response.

She obliged, her delicate hands burrowing into his fur. He lay his head in her lap, nuzzling close to her most private parts. She raised an eyebrow, but continued to pet him. “Well, at least one male doesn’t quiver in fear at the sight of me,” she said wryly. “You are a male, aren’t you?”