Possessed by a Wolf

The storm of voices grew louder. Kyle held up a hand for silence, waiting out the crescendo of exclamations until the room fell quiet again. “Many of our honored guests have left, but some still remain. Captain Gregori, would you please order your men to see those still here safely back to their rooms. You, however, will remain. Once this chamber is cleared, we shall receive your full report and a thorough explanation.”

“Shots have been fired,” the princess protested. “My people attacked. I want more than words!”

Prince Kyle gave a firm nod. “So do I, my love. But we must think first of the safety of our guests. Captain Gregori, order a sweep of the grounds. Ensure there are no more misinformed marksmen lurking in the bushes. And bring those dog handlers to me. I want to know what possessed anyone to bring a dog pack into the city. The last time I looked, downtown was woefully short of wild boar.”

Although the prince’s words were polite, his tone said heads would roll. Still, there was an uncomfortable pause where no one moved a muscle. But then Sam pointed to two of his own men. “Start helping.”

Obediently, the dark-suited members of the Company turned and approached the shocked crowd of onlookers.

It was like a switch flipped. Suddenly everyone moved, the scene dissolving into commotion. People streamed past Lexie as they pushed toward the doors, many not even waiting for an escort back to their rooms.

Lexie swept up her cameras and equipment, packing as quickly as she could. Now that the threat of danger was past, an intense weariness flooded her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of tired that promised a good sleep. She could already feel nightmares coming on.

Winding an extension cord, she looked around the room. Even though she was moving at top speed, she was one of the last ones out. Even Faran was gone, vanishing when her back was turned. There was only a trail of blood from his wound.

She still felt a treacherous pang of disappointment. Knowing Faran, that would be the last glimpse she’d have of him. Once he’d made a decision, he stuck to it. Her vision blurred a moment, but she blinked the tears away. She’d already cried enough over the way things had ended between them—enough to last a lifetime.

“Ms. Haven,” said a male voice beside her, making her start.

She looked up. It was Prince Leo. He wore a dark suit, his style and manner as impeccable as an aftershave commercial. He was holding another extension cord, neatly bundled. He gave her a faint smile. “I thought you could use some assistance.”

She accepted the cord. It was a polite way of hurrying her out the door, but it was graciously done. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Have you got everything?”

She put the cords in her bag and glanced around. “I think that’s it.”

His fingertips brushed her sleeve. The contact was barely there, but it made her shiver, and not in a good way. The gesture reminded her of her brother, who’d been the perfect gentleman in public and something else when her parents’ backs were turned.

“Then I bid you good night, Ms. Haven. I must say I admire your spirit. I’m not fond of large dogs, to say nothing of wild animals.” Without waiting for a reply, Prince Leo gave a brief nod and went to join the other royals.

Her spirit. Just a suave way of saying that her particular brand of crazy had some entertainment value.

Lexie bent and zipped up her duffel bag, then hitched the strap over her shoulder. It was heavy, but the familiar weight was a comfort. Chloe, who had been speaking with Princess Amelie, finished the conversation and joined her. Together they left the reception room for the corridor, the heavy oak doors slamming behind them. The sound echoed along the marble palace floors.

“I can’t believe any of this,” Chloe said, pale with anger. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, the sound like snapping teeth. “Their wedding is just weeks away.”

Lexie frowned. “What was all that about Kyle’s knights going after the Company? Did you follow any of the conversation?”

“I don’t think it was Kyle’s idea. He looked ready to strangle Captain Gregori.”

And then they stopped walking. The corridor was crammed shoulder to shoulder with people—guests, palace employees and medical personnel tending to those with cuts from the broken glass. Lexie hated enclosed spaces. “We’ll never get through this.”

Chloe glanced around, noticing that Lexie was standing motionless behind her. “You can dive out of an airplane, but you hate a crowded room.”

Lexie shrugged. “I want somewhere private to hash this all over. A jam-packed hallway isn’t the place.”

“Follow me.” Chloe took a left turn and led her down a different, less populated corridor. Eventually they came to a narrow door. She pushed it open, revealing the palace garden beyond.

Lexie followed her out. A walk across the soft, springy grass wasn’t ideal—Lexie’s bag was heavy and Chloe had to take off her spike heels, but the open air was a relief. The dogs were absent, and a few guardsmen patrolled at a distance. Otherwise, it was quiet.

“Well?” Lexie asked after a moment. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“There is a disagreement between the two royal houses,” Chloe said, keeping her voice down although there was no one close by. “Sam won’t tell me anything.”

At that, her cheeks darkened to a brighter pink.

“Has he even hinted what it’s about?” The breeze whipped Lexie’s hair across her face. She brushed it away.

“I don’t think he knows the details, but it’s to do with the wedding. It’s all wedding, all day. No one thinks about anything else.”

Lexie shifted the strap of her bag. “Still, it’s a wedding. What’s so wrong that they’re shooting at each other? Did someone order the wrong napkins?”

Chloe gave a derisive laugh. “This isn’t like an ordinary marriage, sweetie. With royal families involved, it’s as much a treaty as anything else. The politics are above my pay grade, but even I know everything could fall apart in a blink.”

The wing of the palace where they slept was just ahead, and Lexie’s spirits began to recover a little. They walked without speaking, the way old friends could, and she caught the scent of the sea. The Mediterranean was visible from the upper balconies of the palace, but here there were only trees and pale stone walls.

“Who’s that?” Chloe asked, pointing ahead.

Lexie squinted. Someone was sitting on a rock wall, hunched over as if he was resting. The waist-high wall—according to the official palace guidebook—was part of an ancient fortification no longer in use. The breeze gusted again, rustling leaves. The ambient light caught a shock of fair hair. Lexie stopped, dumbfounded for a second. Faran.

Chloe gestured with the hand that held her shoes. “I’m sure you two have something to say to each other. I should go.”

“Don’t you dare!” Lexie reached out to catch her arm.

But Chloe was too fast. “I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe Sam will actually tell me something by then.” She retreated across the lawn.

“No, wait!” But Lexie’s feet were glued to the earth, and it felt as if that earth was opening up to swallow her whole. Defeated, she set her bag of equipment on the ground.

Slowly, Faran slid from the wall and landed with easy grace, although he seemed to favor his right side. Lexie felt the same tug of recognition as when she’d seen him inside. Now that he was in human form, he was terrifying in a completely different way.

Faran had shaggy fair hair and strong-boned features that reminded her of a Viking. But it was the memory of what she couldn’t see beneath the black T-shirt and jeans that made her mouth go dry. Faran Kenyon was tall, with a warrior’s lean and muscular body that had made Lexie reach for her camera time and again because she barely trusted what her naked eyes told her. She could have made a fortune from those photos. For a moment, she drifted in memory, recalling the hot, hard feel of him beneath her hands.

They’d met in Cannes when she’d been photographing a swimwear collection. He’d been catering private events, and looking as sexy as sin fresh out of the box. When he’d turned on the charm, it had been a full-on sensory assault.

Two months later, they’d been living together in Paris. She’d had no idea he’d been working undercover the whole time, hunting down a ring of rogue vampires who dealt in the traffic of runaway girls. Not until the end, when she was halfway out the door.

“Hey,” he said, watching her warily. It was too dark to see the color of his eyes, but she knew they would be blue now, and not wolfish gold.

“Hey,” she returned, hot embarrassment stealing over her. She groped for something to say that wouldn’t be inane. “You got dressed fast.”

So much for sounding cool and collected.

His eyebrows gave a slight lift. “The guardhouse has lockers.”

“Oh. So you’re prepared.”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Normally I’m a prepared kind of guy. Though I didn’t expect to see you here.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that. “Are you hurt? Did they use...” she trailed off. “I should stop talking now.”

His mouth flattened with anger. The next words came out hot and fast. “Silver bullets? Yeah. Thirty-eight hollow point ammo and hunting dogs. Way to make a guy feel special. I was lucky it wasn’t a direct hit.”

“What are you saying?” she asked in a small voice.

“I’ve been patrolling the grounds every night after dark. They knew I was coming. I ran to the one place I could think of where they would have to stop shooting.”

“Inside the palace.” She realized they were talking as if years hadn’t passed since their last conversation.

“Leaping through the window was not my best move, but I’d tried everything else and I’d been hit.” He ran a hand through his fair hair. “I appreciate that you stood up for me.”

“No problem.” She wasn’t sure what she expected, but appreciate felt lukewarm. Then again, she was talking to a werewolf ex-boyfriend who’d never been a stickler for etiquette. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No.” His voice held a ring of bitter truth. “But it’s nasty.”

He touched his ribs, probing gently. His breath hissed inward, surprising her. Faran rarely showed pain or any kind of vulnerability, so it must have really hurt. Her hand rose, automatically reaching out to comfort him, but she dropped it before he noticed.

“I thought you healed when you changed form,” said Lexie.

“Wounds from silver are different.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

He gave her a narrow look, his expression changing as if he suddenly remembered how everything had ended between them. “In a human hospital? That would go well, don’t you think?”

She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Hollowness opened up in her, recalling everything that she’d lost when she’d slipped out of their apartment, leaving no more than a note behind.

His tone grew sharper. “What are you doing here, Lexie?”

“Chloe hired me as the wedding photographer.”

“I don’t mean that, I mean...” He gestured from her to him. “I mean why are you talking to me? I don’t exist for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she shot back, irritation rushing in to salve her hurt. “If I close my eyes, you’ll disappear?”

His glare reminded her of why she had left him. Beneath his charming exterior was a predator. That beast was fully present now.

“But one day I did vanish, didn’t I?” The resentment was thick in his voice. “The day you learned what I really was, you just stopped seeing me. It didn’t matter if I was standing right in front of you.”

“That was years ago, Faran,” Lexie said, fresh shock rising in her. She’d expected time to blunt emotion, but clearly that hadn’t happened for either of them. “Why are you still so angry?”

He stood with one hand over his side and a stubborn glower on his face. “Why am I still angry?” he repeated softly. “Do you have to ask?”

She matched stubborn for stubborn. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes. “Lexie, what does happiness look like to you?”

The question caught her off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer me.”

“I’m an artist,” she said automatically. “Taking pictures is what makes me happy.”

He moved so fast she never saw it. All at once, his hands were on her arms, pulling her close until their bodies all but touched. Werewolves ran hot, their body temperatures a degree or two above humans’. A long line of heat vibrated between them, tantalizing Lexie through the silk of her tunic and slacks.

She didn’t like being trapped in his grip. It was far too unexpected and intimate for comfort, putting him in control in a way that sent every alarm bell ringing. She squirmed, but his fingers were like iron.

Faran looked down into her face, his human eyes as impassive as the wolf’s had been. She could almost touch his resentment. He wore it like a scar over the hurt she’d left behind. “This was all I wanted. To be close to you, even with you knowing what I am. I thought maybe you could eventually get past the wolf.”

Lexie’s hands found his chest. It was familiar territory, bringing back a flood of sensory reminders. Suddenly she felt flushed and aching with memory. Her first thought was to push him away, but the crack in his voice stopped her. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt breathless, her face nearly numb. “I’m sorry.”

Her hands slid down his shirt, feeling the quivering muscle beneath. He was holding himself in check so hard, it felt as if he might explode. Her fingers became clumsy, unequal to whatever it was she was trying to do. Comfort? Fend off? She’d lost all sense of direction.

And then her hand found hot, sticky wetness. She gasped. “Faran, you’re bleeding.”

He exhaled, his breath warm against her cheek. “That wasn’t what you said in my fantasy of this moment.”

“Faran...”

He pulled away, walking backward. Cold air flooded in to take his place. “Go home, Lexie. Get out of here. Whatever’s going on is just going to get worse. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Of course she believed him. Whatever else he was, Faran had never been cruel. “But aren’t you in danger?”

He stopped moving, his hand over his injury again. “That’s got nothing to do with you.”

Lexie couldn’t help feeling that he was very, very wrong. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked away. It was exactly what she’d done to him back in Paris.

It was what she wanted.

She was absolutely sure of it.

Almost.

Chapter 3

“You’re lucky you left the scene when you did,” Sam said to Faran. “The discussion in the reception hall went from bad to worse.”

It was just before dawn and Faran was exhausted. Sam didn’t look much better. He had gone from the palace to a long meeting with the Company’s top brass and hadn’t even bothered to change out of his torn suit.

Now they were sitting in one of the break rooms at the Company’s headquarters, which was a compound hidden in the hills outside the capital city. It had been decorated by vampires, and looked like a cross between a country club and a crypt—all dark, heavy furniture and oxblood wallpaper.

“What did I miss?” Faran asked. “Please tell me Prince Kyle did more than send Gregori to bed without his supper.”

“Amelie was ready to flay him alive for threatening her personal guards.”

“I’m touched.”

“I’m in awe. She has her father’s temper.”

Of course the members of the Company were more than just bodyguards. They were supernatural operatives, and the King of Marcari encouraged their participation where and when the international community needed them.

Faran was one of the Four Horsemen, the Company’s crack unit named after the riders of the Apocalypse: Death, Plague, Famine and War. Sam was called War and the doctor, Mark Winspear, Plague. Faran was Famine and the only one not a vampire. Jack Anderson—Death—had been killed in action. He’d been like the father Faran had never had.

Even one man down, the Horsemen were the best. They took the call after the CIA, the FBI, MI5 and all the rest of the big boys failed to get results. Then they slipped in and did what needed doing. They were ghosts, action heroes and James Bond all wrapped into one fabulous package—at least on a good day.

This had not been one of Faran’s better days. “I would have stayed, but silver bullets aren’t exactly my friends. Once I got the bleeding under control, I came back here.”

“I would think so.”

Faran slumped as far down in the armchair as he could without pulling his stitches. “Still, I hated to miss the punch line.”

The whole time he’d been in the reception room, Faran had felt his strength fading, his vision going dark. He’d been bleeding out, but every instinct had refused to let him show weakness. Not in front of the enemy.

Not in front of Lexie.

“You drove like that?” Sam asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“I turned human first. Easier to reach the gas pedal.”

The vampire gave him a look. “I’m surprised you managed without passing out.”

Faran grunted. “Not a big deal.”

“Right. You could have asked for help.”

“Whatever.” Being the token werewolf in the group wasn’t easy. As tough as he was, keeping up with vampires demanded his best game. There’d been a few bad moments in the locker room when he’d struggled into his shirt. There were so many tiny movements that went unnoticed until a person had a hole ripped through his gut. And the walk to the parking garage a few streets away from the palace had been no treat, either. But he’d rather shave off his fur than admit it.

“Did anyone see you?”

“Chloe,” he answered automatically, but then he hesitated. “She was with Lexie.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Any problems there?”

“No.” Not in the way Sam meant. Lexie would never betray the fact that he was a werewolf. She’d been true to her word about keeping his nature and the Company a secret. By Company law, she should have had her memories wiped, but he hadn’t been able to ask that of her. Lexie clung fiercely to her independence, and obviously that included control over her memory. That bargain—her silence for his trust—was the one unbroken promise between them.

Faran leaned his head against the chair back, closing his eyes. “Lexie and I talked for a few minutes and then I left.”

Her voice—always low, always a little throaty—had resonated through him, stirring up the memory of so many midnight conversations. A hopeless, empty feeling yawned inside him, reminding him that she’d recoiled from the very core of what he was. Faran pressed his hand against the wound in his side, as if that would keep his soul, as well as blood, from leaking away.

He opened his eyes. Sam was watching him. Faran was used to the undead, but there was something about that motionless, storm-gray gaze that put him on the alert, predator to predator. “You’re giving me the vampire stink-eye.”

“I remember the mess you were in when you two broke it off before. Right now, we need your head in the game.”

Faran didn’t argue. “Not an issue. We’re barely on speaking terms.”

“She faced down men with guns for you. That took a lot of courage.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it.” He’d learned his lesson the first time. “Our love life was filled with sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. “Shall we move on to the hounds and bullets part of the entertainment?”

“Why not?”

“We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

“I’ve heard that one before, but the girl was half-naked and holding a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.”

“Don’t joke. Not now.” Sam’s worried expression sobered Faran.

Faran tried to sit straight and regretted it. “What’s up? Give me the quick and dirty version first.”

“The Vidonese insist on using their own security for the wedding. In fact, they’re insisting that the entire capital be patrolled by their own guard.”

“So where do we fit in that picture?”

“We don’t. No nonhumans allowed.”

Faran’s anxiety burst into full bloom. “That doesn’t sound like Prince Kyle. He likes us.”

“It’s not Kyle, it’s his father.” Sam pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Now that the prince and princess are uniting the two kingdoms, there has to be a compromise about the Company and the Knights of Vidon.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Company is banned from the palace. From the city itself.” Sam was expressionless, which usually meant he was about to explode.

“Since when?” Faran growled. “How come this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“No one knew. The kings signed the agreement earlier tonight, but their negotiations have been kept under wraps. No one could afford a leak, especially with all the international media around for the wedding. Both sides agree that the supernatural should remain a secret from the general population.”

“And this agreement is why the knights suddenly started shooting at us?”

“The Vidonese expected our resistance. Their orders were to clear us out, at gunpoint if necessary.”

And of course—knowing nothing about any agreement—the Company had fought back. Anger hunched Faran’s shoulders. “Did anyone plan on informing us we weren’t welcome anymore?”

“The king wanted to speak to us, and to Princess Amelie, himself. The Vidonese representatives agreed that would be best.”

“That’s not what happened. Amelie and Kyle looked as surprised as anyone else.”

“His Majesty was going to tell us tomorrow. But the order to treat the Company as hostile went out tonight. Vidon is claiming an administrative error.”

Faran swore. “Yeah, right.”

Sam’s mouth was a tight line. “Marcari’s human guards will stay at the palace, but no members of the Company. None of them except you.”

Faran looked up in surprise. “Why me?”

“The Vidonese don’t know your human face. Werewolves don’t show up on the Knights’s security sensors the way vampires do. You can still walk freely though the palace and the city.”

It was true that Faran hadn’t worked at the palace very often. His comings and goings involved a lot of sneaking around, posing as a tourist, and once showing up with Sam holding his leash. They’d both been the butt of jokes after that one.

“You’re saying I’m to be the Company’s eyes and ears?” Faran said, a mix of apprehension and excitement stirring inside him. “Who knows about this?”

“Company HQ, the king, Amelie and Kyle. That’s it.”

“Even though Kyle is from Vidon?”

“He knows you, and he loves Amelie. He wants her to be safe.”

Faran narrowed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Vidon just forced Marcari to give up its greatest protection. The two nations have been at war forever. You have to admit, it looks suspicious. There are even whispers of Vidon’s collusion with outside forces. King Renault is willing to go along with the agreement up to a point. He wants the marriage and alliance to work, but he wants a hotline to the Company if things go wrong. That’s you.”

“I see.” Faran shifted uneasily. He was ideally suited for the task, but was—at least compared to the centuries-old vampires—a junior agent.

Sam ducked his dark head. “Tell Chloe all this, will you? With the wedding so near, she’s sleeping in the palace. She needs to know why I cannot come to see her.”

“Of course,” Faran agreed, wishing he had someone expecting him.

He dismissed the thought, even if the emotion behind it snagged in his soul like a barb. Wanting Lexie—a woman who saw him as a slavering beast—was no way to keep his head in the game.

* * *

Pounding woke Lexie out of a fitful doze. She cracked open her eyes, squinting into the darkness. For a long, foggy moment she couldn’t figure out what had dragged her to consciousness, but then she heard it again. A fist thumping on the heavy wood door to her guest suite in the palace.