Terry Spear’s Wolf Bundle (47 page)

“You feel so good against me, I don’t want you to ever let go.”

He kissed her cheek and let out a tired breath. “It’s about time you knew where you belonged.”

She bit him on the shoulder, hard this time. He laughed and moved off her, then pulled her on top of him and caressed her waist with a gentle sweeping touch. She cherished the way he could be so loving.

But then he was back to business. “What did you talk about with Silva last night?”

“Didn’t Trevor tell you everything?” Lelandi asked, feeling peeved.

They were supposed to cuddle for a while, luxuriate in the feel of one another, the bond they’d just created. She realized tangling with a pack leader meant business was a heartbeat away.

Darien could see convincing Lelandi that as soul mates there would be no secrets between them, he would have to wear her down on that issue, too. But as much as he wanted to hold her tight and enjoy her heated little body, he had to protect her from harm. That meant knowing all he could about Lelandi and her sister. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

“I don’t remember. Must have been the medicine.”

Darien
humpf
ed under his breath. “Guess you’re as good a liar as your sister.”

Lelandi gave him a half smile and licked Darien’s nipple.

He’d expected her to come out fighting. He was quickly learning she was like her sister—totally
unpredictable. It sure as hell kept him on the edge of his seat.

“He’s going to miss the opening ceremony,” Jake said downstairs in the living room, loudly enough for Darien and Lelandi to hear.

“Considering the importance of what he’s doing, don’t you think this takes priority over the fair?” Tom asked.

“Hopefully, he won’t be so grouchy anymore,” Jake added.

Tom laughed.

Glancing up at the canopy over the bed, Darien rolled his eyes.

Lelandi kissed his cheek. “I’m sure Sam’s waiting for me to go with him to serve drinks.”

“I’d rather keep you here with me for the rest of the day.”

“Was it…was it better for you than in the dreams?”

He twisted a curl of her hair around his finger. “You have to ask? I can’t begin to describe how it made me feel, like a joining of our souls, the consummation of a lifelong search, the dream I’ve been trying to make real for months.”

She sighed heavily. “The same for me. Only I thought you’d be less—big.”

He chuckled. “The real thing feels more…”

“Real.”

“See you at the opening ceremony,” Tom hollered, and slammed the front door.

Darien groaned. “Got to go. But we’re leaving the festivities early so we can return here. Sure you don’t want to stay here until I return?”

“Nope, you’ve promised to let me out of confinement, and I’m going to the fair.”

“I want to keep you safe, Lelandi.”

“I’ll be safe, and thinking about the festivities
after
the ceremony.”

Darien rose from the bed and looked down at Lelandi’s nakedness. “You’re beautiful. Absolutely god sent.”

“You’re not half-bad yourself.”

“Adonis, remember?” he said grinning.

“I hear them stirring, Sam,” Jake said. “But if they don’t hurry, you can take Silva to the tavern, and I’ll bring Lelandi later. Unless Darien has decided to skip the opening ceremony.”

Darien shook his head and dressed while Lelandi watched. Her eyes held his hostage and he growled. “Come back early, vixen.” Then he gave her body another long look of approval, groaned, and shut the door on his departure.

The smoldering gaze in Darien’s eyes made her want to tackle him and return him to bed, forget about the fair or her freedom for a few hours.

Silva soon joined her, her face unreadable, although Lelandi thought something was wrong. Then Silva said, “Darien must have woken on the wrong side of the bed again. First, he ordered Jake to take Peter to task for sleeping on guard duty. Then Darien told me I had to give you a more decent shirt than what I bought you to wear.” She shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with what you were wearing.” She gave a sly smile. “But I guess he doesn’t want the rest of the guys to see. I really
can’t believe he’s letting you out of the house to work with us.”

“I think he’s feeling better now. I guess he trusts Sam to keep a good eye on me.”

“He will.” The look Silva gave and the way she said the words was a warning.
Don’t plan on slipping away.

Lelandi pulled a cashmere sweater out of her bag. “He found my suitcase.”

Silva stared at the bag. “Who had it?” She walked over to it and smelled it. “The guy in the copper coat.”

“It smells like several grays.” Lelandi finished dressing. “Even Sheriff Sheridan’s paws have been on it.”

“They should be. He’s the sheriff. Ready to go, sugar? Sam’s waiting downstairs. Doc Mitchell, our local veterinarian, will be the guard on duty.”

“Veterinarian?”

“Yep, horse doctor during the Civil War. He’s been a practicing vet forever. Does a super job when we’re in our wolf forms. And he’s one of the best shooters we’ve got.”

“Like, good enough to have killed the gunman from a distance?”

“Among the grays quite a few are like that.”

Great.

“What the hell’s holding you up, Silva?” Sam shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “We’ve got to get a move on.”

“Yes, sirree, boss.” Silva led Lelandi down the stairs. “Didn’t want to leave our star guest behind.”

Sam motioned to a gray-bearded man, his eyes black and beady, but sharp as a wary wolf’s, taking in every inch of her, his mouth expressionless.

“Doc Mitchell,” Sam explained. “He’s riding shotgun.”

The vet patted the gun in the holster at his hip. Wearing a leather vest and denims, cowboy boots, and a weather-beaten Stetson, he just needed chaps and a horse—though the distinctive odor of horse clung to him—and he’d be right at home in the part of a grizzly old gunslinger.

He tipped his hat in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Mitchell,” Lelandi said.

“Mitchell—no need to be formal, miss.” He motioned to the black Suburban parked in front of Darien’s house.

Lelandi smelled snow in the air and wished she’d managed to steal away with some of her warmer clothes.

Silva sat next to Lelandi in the backseat, then her mouth curved up in a wide smile. “Ohmigod, Darien and you…” She squeezed Lelandi’s hands and didn’t say anything more.

Sam pulled out of the driveway and headed back to town while Mitchell watched out the front windshield and mirrors for signs of trouble.

Silva said with a smirk, “Unofficially, I’d say you’re a bona fide official member of our pack.”

Sam glanced over the seat while Mitchell looked in the rearview mirror. “Why?” Mitchell asked. “Did Darien say something to you?”

“Nope,” Silva said. “It goes a little deeper.”

Mitchell glanced over the seat at Lelandi. She was sure her face was crimson as hot as it felt.

“Whoa, I take it the boss will officially announce this soon?” He shook his head and watched the road again. “Going to be some pissed-off bitches. Although we knew where this was headed.”

Yeah, and Lelandi was ready to deal with every one of them to keep her dream lover at her beck and call.

When they drove into town, Lelandi stared at the transformation. Colorful banners hung from every covered porch, and arts and crafts and food booths crowded all the wooden walkways down the main street. Even the shabby building across from the tavern was decorated in silver and red banners, proclaiming it to be the first hotel in Silver Town, haunted since its inception. Souvenirs of Indian arrowheads and other old western artifacts were on display. The aroma of sausages and turkey legs grilling filled the air, and Victorian music wafted in the chilly breeze. But the costumes of the townspeople garnered Lelandi’s attention most. Dressed in Victorian era clothing, they wore sunshiny smiles and seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Lelandi took a deep breath. “I remember wearing the cage when I was a young girl. I can’t imagine dressing like that again.” And the awful corsets, too.

“Sure. It’s part of our heritage, our history. Even before we started the fair, we had a Victorian Era Day to celebrate the beginning of our town. A train ride winds up through the mountains, too, and anyone dressed in period costume gets on half price. Looks like a lot of the tourists came prepared this year. Hosstene, Darien’s accountant at the factory,” Silva said, pointing at a stall, “is renting costumes for the day for those who don’t have one and want to fit in.” Silva patted Lelandi’s arm. “But, you don’t need to rent one. I’ve got just the dress for you.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t pay any money to that woman,” Lelandi said, recalling their confrontation in the tavern’s restroom.

Mitchell snorted. “There’s already a welcoming crowd waiting for their free drinks at the tavern. Give anything away free and it’s a madhouse. Waste of money, I say.”

“Like when you spay and neuter cats and dogs for free once a month to avoid unwanted pets, right, Mitchell?” Sam asked, humor coating his words. “Got a ton of business last year by offering a few free sodas. Before we knew it, everyone was ordering the harder stuff and we made a bundle.” He turned to Lelandi. “Just a warning, this is the one day of the year that humans are allowed to enter. Otherwise, it’s a private club.”

“But you let me in that one day.”

Sam smiled. “Private as in only
lupus garous
are allowed. I didn’t know you were Larissa’s sister at first, but I recognized you were one of us.”

His brow furrowed, Deputy Trevor waved at them from the tavern as they pulled into a parking space.

“What’s
he
doing here?” Mitchell grumbled.

“Darien’s orders to ensure we get the little lady into the tavern safe and sound,” Sam said.

The crowd parted to make way for Sam to unlock the door, but he relocked it after he, Silva, Lelandi, and Mitchell entered the establishment.

A shudder ran down Lelandi’s entire body, remembering her apprehension when she’d first visited the tavern, and what transpired after she left.

Silva squeezed her hand and led her to a room off the bar. “Here’s where we store our costumes. We celebrate Blow Me Timber Pirate Day, Viking Day for those of us who were from the Norselands, and Celtic Day for the Scots-Irish among us. German
Fest is filled with German foods, song, and drink. We never advertise the events, but the word is spreading and we’re getting more tourists every year. The guys will change in another room.”

Shelves filled the large room and two doors led into a walk-in closet where costumes hung on poles. Silva pulled out a drawer in a chest at one end of the closet. “Time to return to an earlier era when men wore the pants in the family.”

Lelandi shook her head. “They think they still do.” She slipped out of her sweater and unfastened her bra. She’d never thought she’d wear a corset again after she’d ditched hers in the Victorian Age.

Lelandi fingered the gowns and pulled out a brilliant blue satin one.

Silva dangled a pair of garters. “Remember these?”

“Nobody will know what I wear under the gown.”

Silva smiled. “Darien will.”

“I bet he doesn’t dress up for these occasions.”

“Ha!” Silva said. “He’s the one who insisted on it.
And
he was the one who started Pirate’s Day. I swear he was an ancient Viking, but he isn’t old enough. Here are your drawers.”

“Crotchless. Those were the days.” Lelandi laughed.

Silva slipped a sleeveless, knee-length cotton chemise over Lelandi’s head. She lifted a robin’s egg blue satin corset, heavily boned with whalebone out of the drawer.

Lelandi folded her arms. “Not the corset.”

“Got to have something to hold you up. You know what they say about women who don’t wear their corsets.”

“They’re loose women, but…”

Silva laced up the ties, but not too tightly. Then she pulled the crinoline cage out and opened it up. “Better than the five or six petticoats we used to wear to give our skirts shape.” She slipped a camisole over Lelandi’s head.

“I remember how long it took us to dress.”

Silva fitted a simple petticoat over the frame. “And how we needed help getting into all this. For most, it didn’t matter, but for us, trying to shed our clothes when the moon first made its appearance…” She shook her head. “What a chore. I ripped more petticoats trying to ditch them.” She layered an intricately embroidered petticoat over the plain one. “Now for the finale.” She helped Lelandi on with the gown.

The neckline dipped low, the mere strap of a sleeve rested off the shoulders, and Lelandi felt more exposed than usual. “Do you have anything that’s cut a little higher?”

“Nope,” Silva said with a knowing smirk. “Besides, for serving in the tavern, it seems appropriate.”

“Ha! They’re Victorian ballroom gowns.” Lelandi fingered a peach one. “Not what the serving wenches would have worn.”

Silva pulled the peach gown out. “High-classed tavern in the New World.”

Lelandi helped Silva dress and they pinned their hair up, then fastened hats covered in feathers to each other’s hair. “We’ll skip the gloves,” Silva said. “I tried them last year, but spilled a tray of customers’ drinks, and Sam said enough with the authenticity of the period.”

Behind the counter, Sam was pouring drinks, wearing a swallowtail coat and black satin knee breeches tight over high boots.

“Wow, Sam, you sure look dashing.” He gave Lelandi a broad smile. Doc Mitchell was wearing a dinner coat without tails and a satin vest. He tipped his head in greeting. Lelandi smiled back at him. “You, too, Doc. I feel like I’ve definitely traveled back in time.” Especially since the place still seemed part of the Victorian Age.

“Ladies.” Sam kissed each of their hands in succession. “You look divine. But if Darien knew how striking Lelandi looked in that blue gown, he’d send her home.”

“Here’s hoping no one will spill the beans.” Silva motioned to the glasses stacked underneath the bar. “Bring them out and I’ll fill them.”

Sam motioned to Mitchell to open the door. The crowd surged forward and within minutes, the place was filled with humans and
lupus garous.
Laughter and conversation quickly filled the silence.