Chapter Eleven
Cliff leaned back in his leather chair, glowering at the screen. He should be back in bed, wrapped up in Taylor’s arms. Kissing her. Biting her. Tasting her.
Instead, he’d snuck out that morning while Taylor slept, to meet up with Truman and go over what they’d found on ‘her illegal turning.
Which was nothing.
There were fourteen werewolf employees working at the Bronson factory. There were werewolves working at every business owned by the Bronsons, to protect the pack’s interests. They traveled off and on throughout the month so it wouldn’t be obvious that they were always gone on a full moon. They lived near the factory and regularly came back to visit the pack.
Truman had spent a long, exhausting night visiting each of them. He’d taken James with him and interviewed every one of them, with James compelling them to tell the truth. It had been easy; none of them had tried to resist, even Shelley, who had nothing to hide at this point. And every single one of them had truthfully said they had no idea how Taylor had been turned. They hadn’t bitten her. They didn’t know of anyone biting her.
When asked if they knew of any rogue werewolves in the area, one of them, Patrick, had shamefacedly admitted that he had a distant teenage cousin named Fergus he was hiding because the cousin had been kicked out of his pack in Montana. Patrick had reinforced his basement and locked the cousin in there on the full moon. He’d been doing it for a couple of months.
The rest of the time the cousin stayed at a campsite in the woods a few miles from Patrick’s house. The site was empty when Truman sent his men to check it. He’d gotten a picture of Fergus, and would show it to Taylor. He also had men stationed by the campsite now.
Even so, he couldn’t imagine how Fergus could have been the culprit – but he had to investigate every possibility. He also had to take Fergus into custody before he accidentally exposed himself, and turn him over to the Elders to decide his fate.
Patrick, of course, was in deep shit. He’d been recalled to the pack, and he’d be put on latrine-cleaning duty for the next year. He would also be taken to the town square at noon, a pack assembly would be called, and he’d be publicly shamed.
He’d have a very unpleasant time for at least the next few months. He’d been dating a girl who lived on pack lands, and she would almost certainly dump him.
The only reason he wasn’t in worse trouble was because Fergus hadn’t hurt anyone. As it was, three Elders had voted for him to be put down. Four had voted to give him one more chance, but they’d made it clear that if he ever helped another rogue, that would be the end of him.
Truman and James stood at the back of the room, stifling their yawns. They hadn’t slept all night. Of course, Cliff hadn’t either, but his reason had been much more pleasant.
He glanced at them. “You can go get some sleep,” he told them.
Truman left. James hesitated, waiting for him to leave before he asked Cliff, “So, did you remember to say something flattering and romantic to Taylor before you left your bed this morning?”
Cliff looked at him, puzzled. “I didn’t say anything at all to her. I just let her sleep.” He growled at James’ expression. “What now?”
James sighed with exaggerated patience. “You know nothing about wooing a human woman.”
“Yes, I think we’ve established that.”
“She’s in a strange place, and she just spent her first night with you. Perhaps a few words telling her where you were going and saying something flattering to her would have been in order. That’s all.” And James left.
Cliff groaned. Humans were so strange and complicated.
But Taylor was worth it. He knew that their mating was still on shaky ground, so he got up from his desk and headed back to his room to find her. Hopefully he could give her a very pleasant wakeup surprise.
* * * * *
Taylor woke up in an empty room, feeling vaguely disconcerted by Cliff’s absence. She sat up and looked around the room, searching for him.
The bathroom door gaped wide open, and he wasn’t in there. She glanced at the ornate grandfather clock. Eight a.m.
“I have no willpower,” she said to the empty pillow Cliff had rested on. “I said I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and then I sexed him. I didn’t last one day. Then again, who could really blame me? He’s more irresistible than Carol’s cookies.”
The pillow’s wrinkles seemed to indicate a frown of disapproval, so she punched it. “Keep your judgements to yourself,” she said to the inanimate object, and hopped out of bed to take a shower.
After she showered, she looked over her clothes, which Cliff’s servants had hung up for her in his massive walk-in closet.
She picked a clingy blue wraparound dress with lace trim. She didn’t wear it often, because it clung to everything – every bump, every roll, as well as every curve. Had Cliff really meant it when he’d said he enjoyed every inch of her? She’d soon find out.
Then she headed out the door to look for Cliff. She needed breakfast, and she needed to call Chantelle again. She wished she had her cell phone. Cliff still wouldn’t let her have it, which was really going to be an issue pretty soon.
He insisted that they needed to finish their investigation into how she’d been turned. Pack security always came first, and the Elders and many pack members were still wary of her.
She couldn’t argue, because Cliff had just delivered three more months’ worth of product to Chantelle, with a message handwritten by Taylor saying that she was visiting Cliff for the week and had convinced him to give Chantelle as much product as she needed.
However, she wasn’t going to go through her life as a prisoner, and she really hoped that this wouldn’t go on much longer.
As she headed down the hallway, an older woman with a frown on her face met her and stood in her path. She was blonde, and perfectly coiffed and made up. She looked to be in her fifties, but her forehead was unnaturally smooth. She wore jeans and a silky white scoop-neck T-shirt, and somehow made them look elegant. Maybe it was the haughty expression on her face.
Taylor thought the woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her.
“My name is Celia. I’ve come to familiarize you with life as a werewolf. Come with me,” the woman said abruptly.
Taylor felt a stab of hurt lance through her. “I thought Cliff was going to do that.” He’d mentioned something about training and meditation the night before. She couldn’t remember what exactly he’d said, though, because her brain had been turning to pudding from so many orgasms.
Celia looked down her nose at Taylor and made a snorting noise of disapproval. “Cliff is extremely busy preparing for the Alpha Trials. It’s honestly very selfish of you to impose on him at a time like this.”
Taylor felt her temper flare, but she followed the woman down the hallway, towards a side door that led outside.
“I’m not imposing – he was the one who told me that I’d need the…werewolf training. Whatever you’d call it. And I didn’t ask to be brought here.”
Celia glanced back and looked at her as if she were something she’d scrape off the bottom of her shoe. “You could always leave.”
“Are you a complete moron?” She glared at Celia. “No, I can’t leave. That’s been made very clear to me. So if you expect me to work with you, you’d better dial back on the ‘tude, lady. It’s early and I haven’t had my coffee.”
“Picking fights with pack members already,” Celia scoffed. “You’d make a very poor Alpha’s mate.”
“Actually, from what I’ve seen, anyone who doesn’t stand up for themselves around here gets trampled. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet and I’m hungry. I’m going to go get something to eat and wait for Cliff to do the training.” She turned and started to walk away.
“So you want to interrupt him when he’s training for the fight of his life?” Celia called after her. She turned and started to walk away.
Taylor could have sworn that Cliff had said he was going to be the one to train her. Hadn’t he? Maybe he’d just said she was going to be trained.
Damn orgasm-brain.
Celia was stalking off.
“Wait!” Taylor called after her.
Celia didn’t stop. Taylor followed her out the side door, across an expanse of lawn, and through several rows of hedges.
The morning air was cool, and the dewy grass soaked her sandals. In the distance she heard a wolf’s howl. Once she’d thought the sound was beautiful and mournful. Right now, it sounded ominous.
Celia slowly turned to face her, as if she were doing Taylor an enormous favor just looking in her direction.
Taylor bit back her temper. “Fine, I’ll do some training with you this morning. I’ll eat later.” Her stomach rumbled in protest, but if it meant that Cliff would have more time to train, then food could wait.
“Honestly, it’s a waste of time anyway. I don’t see why Cliff is bothering to train you when he knows there’s almost no chance that you’ll survive the turn.”
A jolt of alarm shot through Taylor. Celia had said it so casually, as if it were something that Taylor should have known. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, Cliff didn’t tell you?” Celia’s lips curled upward into a cruel smile. “Only about ten percent of people who become werewolves through biting make it past their first shift.”