The Wolven

Ian had been right. She was in the same condition as Simon. Clothes tattered and strewn about, lying in a pool of her own blood, bound about the chest and ankles, and in full were-state, claws and fangs ripped away. There was one difference between the deaths, however. Unlike Simon, heavy cable hadn’t been used to restrain Nicole. Only thin, silver wire.

The pain from the silver alone would have been excruciating. It had burned through Nicole’s fur and flesh, then lodged itself in bone. Definitely enough to keep her restrained all by itself.

Danyon hadn’t had the opportunity to examine Simon fully yet, but he suspected that, initially, the same silver wire had been used to incapacitate him. Since he was bigger and stronger than Nicole, the cable would have been necessary to keep him securely restrained while they removed his claws and fangs. Nicole, on the other hand, was petite. Even when fully transformed into were-state, she had been no bigger than a six-month-old German Shepherd pup.

Seeing the young female were stuffed between two pilings had been bad enough, but what really got to Danyon was her fur. She was double-coated, covered with beautiful light brown fur streaked with different shades of gold and white. She literally sparkled when she ran through the sunlight. Seeing that beautiful coat covered with blood, the deep-set eyes once filled with innocence and ease now frozen in terror, had been his undoing. Rage overtook him, and he transformed almost instantaneously.

Fortunately, part of his brain had remained rational, reminding him that he had to tell August Gaudin, the leader of all the were packs in the South, about the deaths. That human thought battled with his feral nature as he ran toward the city, toward the French Quarter, where he would find August. That thought was the only thing that kept Danyon from hunting anything breathing just so he could slaughter it.

Running helped him push past the pain of what he’d witnessed.

By the time he reached Orleans Avenue, which was six blocks north of the Quarter, he had calmed enough to return to human form. His clothes were nearly nonexistent, since he all but doubled in size as a wolf, so he’d had to dodge in and out of alleyways and behind buildings to avoid being seen.

He’d gone straight home, which was the entire fifth floor of La Maison Pierre, a five-storey hotel he owned on the south side of Ursulines. Once there, he’d slipped through the back entrance, took a private elevator to the top floor then quickly changed into slacks and a button-down shirt.

Now he headed for Canal Street and August’s office complex. He kept his walk brisk, his head down, watching his shoes as a maelstrom of questions blew through his mind.

Why would anyone want to kill Simon and Nicole? Neither one would ever have harmed a soul.

Is someone targeting my pack, or were Simon and Nicole simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The biggest question that plagued him, though, was who or what had been able to capture them. It would certainly have taken more than one human to keep Simon under control once he transformed into were-form, even if they had subdued him with silver before wrapping him in cable. In human form, Simon had been six foot one and weighed at least a hundred-seventy-five pounds. As a wolf, he towered over seven feet, and just the additional flesh and muscle mass added another seventy-five pounds or more to his weight. No, it would have taken more than an entire army of men to hold Simon down.

Another thought crossed Danyon’s mind, and it nearly stopped him cold. Both death scenes had been covered with blood, but aside from Simon and Nicole being declawed and defanged, he hadn’t noticed any other major injuries. No gunshot wounds to the body or head. No blunt force trauma. He hadn’t examined either close enough to check for stab wounds, which he planned to do when he met up with Andy later, but aside from that possibility, what had actually killed his two weres?

Danyon was still deep in thought when a woman suddenly appeared in his line of sight, only inches away from his face. Instinctively, he reached out and took hold of her upper arms to minimize the collision.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I …” The sight of her fiery green eyes sent a jolt of recognition through him. It was Shauna MacDonald.

He’d met her a few times at the bi-annual council meetings, when the underworld subcultures in New Orleans and the surrounding area met to discuss communal issues. He knew Shauna owned A Little Bit of Magic, the mystic shop on Royal, along with her sisters, Fiona and Caitlin. And he knew all three were Keepers.

Every time he saw Shauna, her beauty captured his attention to the point of distraction. She was tall and slender, her long, strawberry blonde hair usually up in a ponytail. Her skin, although fair, had a healthy glow. Only a dead man wouldn’t take notice of her.

Even more problematic for Danyon was Shauna’s scent. It was a pheromonal tidal wave of passion, femininity and latent sexuality. It drove him mad with desire, and he had to struggle to resist it.

Shauna, on the other hand, appeared to have little or no interest in him at all. Whenever they were in the same room, she refused to make eye contact with him and usually kept her end of the conversation brief, clipped, as though being around him irritated her, and she couldn’t wait to get away.

It was just as well.

Even if Shauna were interested in him, nothing could ever come of it.

She was human.

He was a wolven, and an alpha at that. That was a vast chasm to overcome. Danyon knew those differences would always keep her from fully understanding the depth of his true nature, even if she was his Keeper.

Still holding on to her arms, Danyon suddenly became keenly aware of the feel of her skin under his palms. Soft … silky … warm. Very warm.

He felt his pulse quicken, his nostrils flare.

He should have felt guilty right then. Two of his weres were dead. He’d just wiped their blood from his hands.

But he felt no guilt.

There was no room for it. Not now. For every one of Danyon’s senses was on high alert. Each one excruciatingly aware of her.

And the effect left him ravenous.

Chapter 4

Shauna pulled out of Danyon’s grasp more abruptly than she’d intended. She’d been lost in thought, not paying attention to where she was going and had nearly collided into him. It had taken a couple of seconds for her to blink all six foot four of him into focus, but once she did, recognition was instantaneous. That didn’t surprise her. Danyon was not a man easily forgotten. That exceptionally broad chest, sharp facial features and strong chin … his eyes, the color of honey still on the comb. His thick black hair, a little longer than shoulder-length, was combed back, away from his face. He smelled of soap and testosterone at full throttle. Shauna had never allowed herself to get this close to him before, and had it not been for this accidental encounter, probably never would have.

And all for good reason.

Her mind turned into a puddle of goo every time she was around Danyon. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she would start fidgeting, like a nervous school girl, something she never did. His extraordinary good looks, sharp intellect and wit, and the smoldering sexuality that seemed to ooze out of him when he moved, made her heart beat too fast. She kept her distance to maintain control of her mind and her body, something she would never admit to another soul.

As a Keeper, Shauna had a lot of expectations to live up to. Being the youngest Keeper made things even tougher, because it came with its own set of challenges. She always felt she had to prove her competency twice as much as her two sisters. And in order to do that, she had to keep her mind and body strong and focused. She couldn’t afford to appear vulnerable. Especially to a wolven. Even one as breathtaking as Danyon.

“Something’s happened,” Shauna said, hearing her words come out as a statement rather than the question she’d intended.

Danyon nodded, his eyes wary, quickly scanning both sides of the street. In profile, his hair glistened with a blue-black sheen.

Shauna’s heart quickened. She had to force herself not to take a step back.

“What did you hear?” he asked.

Shauna looked up at him questioningly.

“I mean who told you? What did they tell you?”

She glanced away from the intensity of his stare. “No one told me anything.”

“Then how did you know?”

“That there was trouble?”

He tilted his head, and his gaze intensified.

How was she supposed to explain what she’d heard in the shop? That weird keening she’d instinctively known was a cry for help? Or that she’d heard it over a shop filled with tourists, city noise pouring in from the street and Mattie and Banjo’s fight? How was she to explain that without sounding like a kook?

Shauna opted for the direct route. “I heard it,” she said.

“Heard what?” He frowned, evidently confused.

She chewed her bottom lip a moment. “I’m not really sure. It felt … it sounded like a wolven in trouble. I was going to August’s to find out if he knew anything.”

“I’m headed there myself.” Danyon didn’t appear surprised in the least by what she’d said.

“What do you know? Anything?”

His face hardened. “Unfortunately, yes. Two of my weres are dead.”

Stunned, this time Shauna did take a step back. “Who? When?”

“Simon Filk and Nicole Bergeron. Not sure when they were killed, but both were found a couple of hours—”

“Wait. They were killed? As in murdered?” Shauna’s head reeled. The name Simon Filk rang a bell, but she couldn’t place a face with the name. Nicole, on the other hand, she knew. Nicole and her boyfriend, Ian, came to A Little Bit of Magic often, especially the tea and coffee kiosk. She even remembered their usual order: bayberry tea and pecan scones.

“It appears so, yes. Two other weres from my pack were headed home from work when they found Simon at the foot of the levee near River Road. Ian found Nicole. She’d been shoved between two pilings off Barataria.”

“God … poor Ian. The guy must be—”

“Devastated. And even that’s an understatement.”

Shauna shook her head in disbelief. “But murdered? How … ? You’re sure?”

Danyon gave her what sounded like a condensed version of what he knew so far and what he’d seen. As she listened, Shauna felt her stomach roll over, her knees weaken. By the time he finished, though, she was so angry, she could have tortured and killed the murderer bare-handed. She was also furious with Danyon.

“I can’t believe you moved the bodies,” she said.

“What do you mean you can’t believe it?”

“You should have alerted someone first,” Shauna fumed. “The police, August, me. You might have destroyed vital evidence.”

Danyon’s eyes darkened. “And what do you think would have happened if a human, or anyone else for that matter, had come across them the way Andrea and Paul did? They were in were-state, Shauna. What did you want me to do, just leave them there? Maybe throw a tarp over the bodies?”

“Don’t be crass.” Shauna shoved a hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “When did you plan on telling me about this? Next week? Next month?”

“When did you suddenly become my mother?”

“I’m the Keeper of the wolvens! I have every right to know what’s going on at all times.”

Danyon stood tall, jabbed a thumb to his chest. “And I’m the alpha of the East Bank pack. Those were my weres! I’m responsible for them, and I can take care of my own.”

Shauna leaned toward him. “But I’m their Keeper. And, in case you’ve forgotten, yours, as well.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Simon and Nicole are dead. Just what is there to keep … Keeper?”

She snapped her head back as though slapped.

Regret flickered in his eyes, but it went away as quickly as it arrived.

“May I remind you, Mr. Stone,” Shauna said through gritted teeth, “it’s my responsibility to keep peace between the wolven, the other races, and the humans in this city. By not telling me, you put everyone in danger. When word of this gets out, too much or too little information can end up open to interpretation. Have you forgotten about the cemetery murders six months ago, or what happened when the walk-ins tried taking over the city three months after that? In both cases, vampires suspected the shape-shifters, shifters pointed at the weres, everybody pointed at everybody else. If Fiona hadn’t taken charge of her vampires during the cemetery murders and Caitlin her shifters in the walk-in disaster, we might have had another war on our hands. The same kind of war that killed our parents.”

By that time, Shauna’s anger had grown to such a fever pitch, she stepped closer, pushed against him. “Look, you might be the big dog on campus when it comes to the East Bank pack, but—”

“Big dog? Now who’s being crass?”

“But I am the Keeper of the wolven in this city. Moving those bodies was poor judgment on your part. The police should have been notified immediately.”

Danyon’s expression went cold. “How many times do I have to tell you? Simon and Nicole were in were-state. What sense would it have made to involve humans when we spend half our time hiding our true identities from them so they don’t destroy us? None, period. I was not going to take the chance that Simon or Nicole would be seen in that condition.”

“You didn’t have to involve a human,” Shauna said. “You could have called Jagger DeFarge. You know perfectly well he’s a homicide detective.”

“A homicide detective and a vampire.”

“Which only means he’d be more sensitive to the situation. He’s part of the underworld. He knows what has to be protected.”

Danyon looked away for a second, and Shauna could have sworn she heard a low growl rumble from his throat. “We are wolven!” he declared. “We don’t want a vampire involved in our business. I don’t need DeFarge’s help, nor do I need you questioning my actions. Nicole and Simon were my responsibility. I will find their murderers. And believe me, there will be justice.”

“And as their Keeper, I will be involved, whether you like it or not!” Realizing her voice had gotten a little too loud, Shauna glanced about, making sure their conversation was still private.

This time there was no mistaking the low growl emanating from Danyon. Without another word, he whipped around and headed down the street, his long legs quickly widening the distance between them.

Furious that he’d so abruptly dismissed her, Shauna hurriedly back-tracked a block. She planned to detour to a side street that led to the rear of August’s office complex and beat Danyon there.

She walked fast, talking herself out of breaking into a full run. This was starting to feel ridiculous, as if she were one of the last two children left in a game of musical chairs, and only one chair remained. She’d always hated that game.

Okay, so she might she have gotten a little exuberant—upset, even—because she hadn’t been contacted when Simon and Nicole were discovered. Still, that was no excuse for Danyon to get so huffy. She probably could have handled things more diplomatically, but he didn’t have to go storming off as if she’d peed in his Cheerios, for heaven’s sake.

If she really wanted to be honest with herself, though, the buck stopped with her. She had a temper and knew it. It’s what made it too easy for her to run off at the mouth. Along with that, Danyon gave her mush-brain.

Not the man’s fault, but she was living proof that temper and mush-brain made for a bad combination. Any man, wolven or not, would have gotten upset by the way she’d handled the situation. Her responsibility as a Keeper was to help keep peace between the subcultures and humans in New Orleans. The way she’d confronted Danyon had been anything but peaceful.

Shauna slowed her pace.

This wasn’t a game of musical chairs. And it wasn’t about her or Danyon or her attraction to him.

It was about Simon and Nicole, about finding their murderer.

It was about justice.

Chapter 5

When Shauna finally reached the main lobby of August’s office complex, Danyon had already arrived. He was standing alongside Rita Quinn, August’s executive assistant, near the entrance to the hallway that led to August’s maze of offices. As always, the middle-aged were looked immaculate. She wore a lavender pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, and her light brown hair had been rolled into a perfect French twist. Elegant and tasteful, just like everything in August’s life.

When Rita spotted Shauna, she smiled warmly.

Danyon barely looked her way.

“How wonderful to see you, Ms. MacDonald,” Rita said. “Your timing is perfect, as always. I was about to lead Mr. Stone to the conference room. Mr. Gaudin is expecting both of you.”

“He is?” Puzzled, Shauna glanced over at Danyon, wondering if he’d somehow managed to call ahead and let August know they were coming.

As if reading her thoughts, he shrugged, indicating he had no idea how August knew.

“Of course,” Rita said, then motioned for them to follow her. “Mr. Gaudin is already in the conference room. He’s on a call at the moment, but he insisted I bring both of you to him the moment you arrived.”

They followed Rita down a long, wide hallway, a runner of plush beige carpet stretching along the oak-wood floor.

Shauna felt a little awkward walking beside Danyon. She’d acted like a child earlier and was embarrassed about it. Figuring the adult thing to do was probably apologize, she sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye to get a handle on his mood. He was stern-faced, eyes locked forward. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been in another parish.

Maybe later for that apology.

Maybe.

Rita led them to a set of heavy double doors, then opened one and motioned them inside. The room held a mahogany conference table, massive and oval and surrounded by twelve leather wing-back chairs. In the south corner of the room, near the back, stood a standard-size mahogany desk. August stood beside it, phone to his ear. He nodded an acknowledgment when he saw them.

“Make certain it is taken care of immediately,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line, then he turned slightly, listening intently.

Even in profile, the elder was a formidable figure. He was shorter than Danyon, although not by much. His silvery-white, shoulder-length hair was a testament to his age, but his stature, the breadth and depth of his chest and shoulders, and his large strong hands appeared to be in direct opposition, for they were appropriate to a much younger man. August’s presence radiated a quiet confidence and wisdom, but when called for, he elicited fear just as easily. He was an attorney by trade and had been elected to the city commission, and also worked with the tourism board. Shauna had always been impressed by his accomplishments, but that wasn’t what bonded her to him.

August was the leader of all the werewolves throughout the South, and certainly the fact that she was Keeper of the werewolves in this city had something to do with the kinship they shared. But the connection between them ran much deeper than that.

August had fought alongside her parents in their struggle to avert the great war between the races, and when they died, he immediately took Fiona, Caitlin and Shauna under his wing. He’d raised them as his own. Taught them what it meant to be Keepers. Made sure they were well educated, well fed, loved and protected. He was like a grandfather to Shauna, and each time he looked at her with those gentle, powder blue eyes she felt unconditionally loved. They might not have been bio logically connected, but sharing DNA never assured anyone of love.

As soon as August hung up the phone, Shauna walked over and gave him a hug. He returned it warmly.

“Would anyone care for something to drink?” Rita asked, still standing at the threshold of the room.

“No, thank you,” Shauna said.

Danyon, who was standing at the far end of the conference table, shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

“That will be all, Rita,” August said.

Rita nodded and quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

August put an arm around Shauna’s shoulder and led her to the table. After pulling out a chair for her, he motioned to Danyon. “Please, make yourself com fort able.”

When everyone was seated, Shauna asked, “Rita said you were expecting us, August. How did you know we were coming?”

“Simple logic,” August said, “I heard about the deaths half an hour ago.”

“From whom?” Danyon asked.

“Rayo Black, one of the bartenders at Jumani’s. Apparently he was working when Andrea went into the bar looking for Andy Saville. Rayo saw how upset she was and offered her a drink to calm her nerves. He claimed after Andrea downed a couple, she began to cry and told him about the dead weres. He called me immediately. Since the weres were from Danyon’s pack, and since you, Shauna, are their Keeper, it was only logical that the two of you would come to me.”

August sighed deeply, propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Details, please,” he said to Danyon. “Tell me.”

For the next forty minutes Danyon relayed the details of how Simon and Nicole were discovered, who had found them, and the condition of their bodies when found. He also told August about his decision to hide the bodies so passersby wouldn’t stumble on them, and that he’d summoned Andy Saville to help with the transfer after dark.

Hearing it all again, Shauna’s anger sparked anew. She still couldn’t believe someone had actually killed the young weres. The emotions hammering her must have been minuscule in comparison to August’s, though. As he listened to Danyon, the elder’s eyes went from powder blue to cobalt. His lips drew into a thin, tight line. Shauna noticed his neck muscles ripple; then, like a wave in motion, that ripple traveled across his chin and up to his cheeks. He was fighting transformation.

Ever since Shauna was a child, she’d known August to be master over his human form and his werewolf identity. Not once had she ever seen his emotions overtake him and the transformation occur spontaneously. He had always been in control. It was understandable that August would be upset about the were deaths, but for the news to have this great an effect on him, there had to be more going on in his head than processing what he’d just heard.

Danyon leaned across the table. “I plan on examining the bodies more closely before they’re returned to their families. Something—”

“Have them taken to my lake house in LaPlace,” August said sharply. “I want to see them for myself. Do you remember how to get there?”

“Of course.”

“Wasn’t that house damaged during Hurricane Katrina?” Shauna asked.

“Yes, but it’s been renovated, and I had a large workshop built beside it. Forty by forty, plenty of fluorescent lighting. Andy can bring Nicole and Simon there. I’ll take care of notifying the families, as well. Although I’d be surprised if news hasn’t already reached them by now.” August turned to Danyon. “You were about to say more before I interrupted. Please continue.”

“Just that something occurred to me when I was on my way here.”

“Yes?”

“Well, Nicole and Simon had obvious wounds from being declawed and defanged, but I didn’t notice anything that specifically pointed to the cause of death. No gunshot wound or blunt force trauma. There was a lot of blood, but I don’t believe either of them bled out. The silver wire used on Nicole—and I suspect on Simon, as well—definitely did some damage. Burned right through fur, flesh and muscle. But as torturous as that sounds, I don’t believe that’s what caused Nicole’s death. Simon’s either. They may have been stabbed, but I won’t know that for sure until I examine the bodies. But, August, the bigger question is how is it possible that both remained in were-state after they died? I’ve never witnessed that before. Never even heard it was possible. Have you?”