Izzy rubbed her scratchy eyes as she padded into the kitchen of Freddie and Rissa’s house. The only illumination came from the low-burning fire in the fireplace and the faint glow from a light above the stove. It was early, before dawn. Even the winter birds were hushed. But she’d given up trying to sleep. The quiet and dark brought nothing but bad dreams.
Most disturbing? Some of her dreams last night had made her heart pound, but not in fear.
Damn that damn Alpha wolf. What business did he have invading her dreams with his deep voice all low and seductive? Touching her. Making her feel delicate and feminine and—
Damn that damn Alpha wolf!
She opened cabinets until she found a glass.
“Can’t sleep?”
Whirling, she nearly dropped the glass when she found Luke peering at her over the back of the couch. “Jesus,” she said, hand over her jackhammering heart.
The orange glow of the fire backlit his dark, messy hair and shone on his bare shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He stood and rubbed the back of his neck. Damn, he was big. Over six feet tall, with shoulders that blocked the light from the fireplace. Her heart thumped at the sight of his bare chest. Strongly muscled, it tapered down to a set of abs that actually made her mouth go dry.
What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never swooned over a pretty face and ripped bod before.
Stupid freaking dreams.
Izzy forced her eyes back up to his face. “What are you doing here?”
He walked toward her on bare feet. Christ. He had nothing on but a pair of well-worn, low-slung jeans.
That. Were. Not. Buttoned.
She licked parched lips and really wished she had that glass of water right now.
“Something wrong with the coffee table?” Luke asked, nodding back toward the living room.
A guilty blush heated her face. “Um...”
Luke plucked the glass from her limp fingers, filled it with milk from the refrigerator, and handed it to her.
She backed up until her butt hit the counter. “I wanted water.”
“Milk’s better.”
“For what?”
“You.”
She gave him an unimpressed look that quickly morphed into consternation as he closed the distance between them. If she wanted to get past, she’d have to touch him. On bare skin. Not a good idea. Heat poured off him like a furnace and she had an almost overpowering urge to bask in it like a cat in a ray of sun.
Werewolf, Iz. Bossy, annoying werewolf.
Good reminder. He was infuriating, not cute. No, “cute” was definitely not a word anyone would use to describe Luke Wyland. She opened her mouth to blister his ears with exactly what she thought of his high-handedness when her stomach growled loudly.
“Drink,” he said. He didn’t wait for her to comply or argue, just turned his back and opened the refrigerator again. “Eggs?” he asked from behind the refrigerator door.
“No.” Her stomach growled again and she slapped a hand over it.
He gave her a look that said, Really?
“Not gonna happen,” she said.
“Of course not.” The door closed with a bump of his elbow and he dropped an armful of items on the island. Flipping on the pendant lamps above it, he glared at the full glass in her hand. “You’re not drinking.”
“Huh?” Izzy’s brain fritzed, distracted by the light shining on Luke’s black hair like a halo as he buttered bread. Not to mention his dangerously low-hanging jeans. If he breathed wrong, they were goners. The jeans. Not her. Because she was not looking at the dark line of hair that ran down his washboard stomach into his precariously perched Levi’s. Nope.
“Why are you here?” she asked again. “Did you sleep here?”
“Yup.” He grinned, and something like satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “I like it here. You’re here.”
A long, muscled arm stretched past her, bringing his chest up close and personal with her face. She froze, and the hair on his pecs brushed her chin. A low buzzing filled her head like static on an old TV. She couldn’t prevent the gasp that drew in his scent. It reminded her of sun-warmed leaves on a fall day. When Luke traced a finger down her cheek, her traitorous knees actually wobbled.
What the hell was she doing? Luke was a werewolf. And not just any werewolf, but the Alpha of a goddamned pack of them. She gave him a shove and darted out from the trap of his big, masculine body.
She was panting and he smirked at her as if he knew the havoc he wrought. Wanting to wipe the smug look off his face, she said, “What happened with the dead guy?”
He froze. Jaw clenched, he set down the knife, squaring it up to the bread with careful deliberation. When his gaze met hers, she saw rage in his eyes as the green swirled with gold and the predator peeked out.
Izzy rubbed clammy hands against her thighs.
“He was murdered,” Luke said. “Someone broke his neck.”
Her grandmother’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Killers, all of them. Vile, filthy beasts.” Cold dread settled in Izzy’s empty belly and she fought the urge to run. Freddie was right down the hall, asleep. She couldn’t leave him behind.
Luke swore and rubbed his neck. “Sorry.” The gold faded and an unmistakable sadness filled his eyes. “Poor bastard had a family.”
Nice. Why don’t you see if Luke has a pet you can kick, too?
Reaching out, she touched his arm. Luke laid his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. That strange buzzing filled her head again. “Did you know him?” she asked softly.
“Not really. He was human and not associated with the pack. We’ve spoken, though.” He shrugged. “It’s a small town.”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry, Isabelle. We’ll find the bastards who did this.” The words rumbled with the growl of his wolf.
She gulped and pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” he said, fishing a frying pan out from a cabinet next to the stove.
“Isn’t it the cops’ job to catch the killer?”
“Yes. But it’s my responsibility.”
“Why? Because the killer is one of your weres?”
“Of course not.” He grimaced. “Well, I don’t know that for certain...”
“So why is it your problem then?”
“Everything that happens in this territory is my responsibility.” He made it sound like a simple truth, like that the sun rose in the east, or the sky was blue.
“Even when it concerns just humans?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” Luke turned back to the food.
Her stomach chose that moment to growl again.
He pointed at her with a butter knife. “Drink.”
She was surprised to find she still held the glass of milk he’d given her. Ravenous, she took a big gulp, and was so empty, she actually felt the cold liquid hit her stomach. Blech. Plain milk had never been her thing. Opening cupboards, she hoped Freddie stuck to old habits. “Score,” she said when she opened the refrigerator and found the bottle of Hershey’s syrup.
She refilled the milk and squirted a long stream of chocolate gold into the glass. Luke held out a spoon. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
With delight, she watched the syrup swirl, turning the milk a nice medium brown. Perfect. She drank half the glass. “Mmm,” she sighed, licking her lips.
A choked sound made her glance up at Luke. His eyes, fixed on her mouth, glittered.
“Do that again,” he said, his voice low and husky.
Izzy backed up until she banged into the refrigerator. “Um...”
Luke stalked toward her before jerking to a stop a foot away. A flush colored his high cheekbones. He stared at her like she was his last meal, his gaze burning over every inch of her.
Izzy’s pulse pounded in her throat. What was happening? She felt hunted, a little afraid, but also...excited.
Knees bent, fists clenched, she readied herself for anything. Everything.
Luke’s nostrils flared.
Without warning, he shook himself from head to toe, breaking the tense moment, like snapping a string. He scrubbed his hair, sticking it up every which way.
Stupidly, she blurted, “You look like a dog shaking like that.”
One black brow rose. “Wolf, baby. I’m a wolf.”
“Like I could forget,” she muttered.
Luke threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Oh, damn. You are not going to give me an inch, are you?” He wiped his eyes. Several seconds passed before he settled down. All the while, she stared at him, utterly perplexed. She’d been formulating escape plans on the fly, preparing to lead off with a feigned knee to the groin, followed by a rapid uppercut and left hook. Instead, she was hemmed in by his laughing bulk and had no idea what to do about it.
She scowled. “You’re weird.”
Visibly checking himself, Luke sobered and cleared his throat. “Ah, sorry.” He held up his hands and took half a step back. “You ever come up against the old ‘be careful what you wish for’ scenario?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” He eased back another few inches, like it pained him to give her any space. “I’m very attracted to you.”
Izzy blinked. “To me?”
A grin, slow and wide, spread across Luke’s face, and his eyes glimmered again. “Uh-huh.”
She looked down at herself, taking in the white athletic socks, ratty fleece pajama bottoms, and wrinkled long-sleeved tee. Everything was oversized and baggy. She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Why?”
* * *
Why?
Luke tried not to laugh again, but he couldn’t suppress a smile. Didn’t she realize what she did to him? Then again, he’d noticed she didn’t use her nose much. Maybe she couldn’t scent the lust that slammed him every single time he laid eyes on her.
He frowned. What had happened to his little mate to make her reject her animal side?
“We didn’t finish our discussion last night,” he said.
“That was a discussion? I thought it was an interrogation.”
“Next time remind me to get out the rubber hose.”
The exasperated roll of her eyes had him grinning again as he buttered bread. “So, Isabelle, tell me about you.” He wanted to know everything. When was she born? Where did she go to school? Why had she chosen the Army? What was her favorite flavor of ice cream? No detail was too small. He wanted it all.
“I’m here for Freddie. That’s it. Then I’m outta here.”
His beast snarled in his head. Over my dead body, Luke thought. She was his. Whether she knew it or not.
“Why don’t you start with your family?” he suggested. “How did you and your sister end up in foster care?”
Another scowl. This one accompanied by the bitter and murky scents of anger and grief. “We really gotta do this?”
“Yup.” He set a large frying pan on the stove and turned on the burner. Butter sizzled as he assembled grilled cheese sandwiches.
“Don’t you want to put on a shirt?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
Her breathing sped up and her gaze seemed rooted on his bare chest. Then it traveled down. The sweet scent of warm vanilla cookies spiced the air, and Luke’s mouth watered. What he wouldn’t give for a taste.
Isabelle blinked slowly like she was waking from a long sleep. “Don’t blame me if you burn something important.”
Laughing, he said, “Don’t worry, sugar, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried.”
“No. You’re avoiding my questions.”
She was quiet for so long he didn’t think she’d answer. Then, “Our parents died when we were four. Car accident. We moved in with our paternal grandmother. We stayed with her until we were twelve and she couldn’t take care of us anymore. We didn’t have any other family, so we were placed in foster care. Then we bounced around until we went to live with the Dodds and Freddie.”
Isabelle gave the answer without inflection, her expression as brittle as cracked glass. Luke suspected she had recited that exact statement many times before. Rehearsed, full of facts, yet completely devoid of any real information.
“I’m sorry about your parents, sugar.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That had to be hard.”
“Uh-huh.”
It might be easier getting answers from a stone, but he wasn’t throwing in the towel yet. “Was your grandmother a lycanthrope?”
“No,” she said with a bitter laugh.
He slid two sandwiches onto a plate. “So your father was human?”
“No. Both of our parents were werewolves.”
What the hell? If that was true, then her grandfather had been a wolf. Her grandmother—human or not—should have been well aware of the girls’ lycanthropy. Why the hell were they raised outside of a pack?
He pushed the plate toward her. “Eat,” he said, earning another one of her glares. “I don’t understand why you and your sister were in the human foster care system then. I told you last night, no pack would allow their young to be raised by humans.”
“We were never the pack’s!”
“Isabelle—” She shook her head in denial, but he persisted. “You grew up in Chicago. There’s a pack there. Has been since before the city was a city. You must have known that.”
“How would I? We lived as humans.”
Now Luke was the one to shake his head. It made no sense. “Trust me, sweetheart, when I say that the pack knew about you.”
The question was, why hadn’t they made contact? He’d be damned if any lycanthrope child in his territory—wolf or otherwise—went without the support of the pack. Humans were not equipped to handle the needs and challenges young shifters faced.
Isabelle wrapped her arms around her middle and sank onto one of the island stools. Goddess, he wanted to hold her.
“I don’t understand,” he said, walking around the island to stand before her. “Why would you try to live like a human? It’s not possible.”
The scent of anger drowned out the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese, which his starving mate had yet to touch. His wolf paced in his mind, impatient with the conversation. Isabelle needed to eat. And she needed to shift, to run in the wilderness, to heal.
“It is possible,” she said, her voice shaking with fury. “You don’t have to give in to the monster.”
“Monster? What—”
“Everything all right in here?” Freddie asked, striding into the kitchen wearing a thunderous expression.
Rissa followed close behind. Sorry, she mouthed at Luke.
“We’re fine. Go away,” he snapped. “Isabelle and I are in the middle of something.”
Freddie looked at his sister, then glanced around the kitchen. “Breakfast?” He plopped down on a stool next to her. “Sorry, but Izzy and I have to be at the airfield in an hour.”
With her body tensed as if in preparation to leap across the island at him, Isabelle followed Luke’s every move. Damn it to hell, he’d scared her again. Hadn’t he learned that she’d leap into any fray to protect her brother?
Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he did his best to make his voice even, calm. “Why?”
“Izzy’s taking over for me while Rissa and I are on our honeymoon, remember? I have to show her around, introduce her to everyone. Yadda yadda yadda.”
Isabelle made a small noise in the back of her throat, but the fear had leached from her scent. Good enough.
“That can wait,” Luke said.
“’Fraid not. We have clients scheduled for a flight to Spokane and back,” Freddie said.
“Reschedule.” Luke pointed at the plate next to his mate and softened his voice. “Eat, Isabelle. It’s getting cold.”
For once, she didn’t argue. He relaxed as she picked up a piece of sandwich and took a bite. She hummed her pleasure and bit off another chunk. Satisfaction rushed through him, easing an ache he hadn’t realized existed. His wolf preened. If this was what came of meeting his mate’s needs, Luke would provide for her every whim.
“Luke.” The tone of Rissa’s voice said she’d been trying to talk to him and he hadn’t heard.
“Hmm?” Luke didn’t take his eyes off Isabelle as she finished her first sandwich and started on the second. He couldn’t restrain the goofy smile that tugged at his mouth. Every bite his mate took filled him, too.
Isabelle glanced at him and a pretty blush brightened her cheeks. To his great satisfaction, it grew until even her ears turned red. Nope. Definitely not immune to him.
She wiped her mouth on a napkin and turned away. It didn’t bother him. Not when he could practically feel her attention focused on him like a laser.
Freddie made a disgusted sound. “Rissa said that we can’t reschedule today’s client.”
“Why?” Luke asked as he walked to the refrigerator to get Isabelle more milk.
“Because they’re flying Alan Branson and his VP today,” Rissa said.
Luke’s gaze snapped to her. “Why the hell is your family’s company still transporting that bastard?”
“Who’s Alan Branson?” Isabelle asked.
“He’s a real estate developer whose company has acquired the mining rights for land within the Cabinet Mountains Wilderness,” Rissa said.
“Isn’t that federally protected land? I didn’t think you could even bring motorized vehicles into the area, let alone mine it.”
Isabelle’s knowledge of his territory pleased Luke immensely. He smiled at her as he handed her another glass of chocolate milk. “The previous administration in DC made some changes. The mine hasn’t received the final go-ahead, but it’s close. And if it was up to Branson, he would strip this territory of every natural resource.”
“And destroy our land in the process,” Rissa said.
“Yeah, well, Marianne is hoping I can somehow dazzle Branson with the miracle of Mother Nature. Convince him of the error of his ways and all that,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. Luke’s doubt on the probability of that succeeding must have shown on his face because the human added, “Exactly.”
“Maybe you can get him to tell you who his partners are,” Rissa said.
Freddie pulled Rissa between his legs. “Baby doll, if Branson wouldn’t tell you when you asked”—he nuzzled her neck, eliciting a little squeal—“why would he tell me?”
With a grimace, Isabelle turned back around and assiduously studied her sandwich. “Why don’t you know who the other investors are?” she asked, her voice austere and businesslike.
“We’ve been trying to find out for months and we can’t get past all the holding companies,” Luke said. “You’d think the government wouldn’t want to grant mining permits to anonymous shell corporations. What time will you be back, Freddie? I want to speak to Branson again myself.”
“Is everything around here your responsibility?” Isabelle asked. “Is everyone?”
Freddie snorted. “He’d like to think so.”
Luke gave him a look. Really, he should’ve let Marianne eat the annoying bastard. He tucked a wisp of hair behind Isabelle’s ear. “Some more than others,” he said.
She pulled away. “I can take care of myself.”
He looked down at the crumbs of her inadequate vegetarian meal. “Can you?”