* * *

One

“Why me?”

“He’s read your research and he was impressed with it, Maria. You should be flattered.” Bob, the administrator of the Zoology and Genetics Department of the New York Cornwell University, smiled and flicked his eyes over Maria’s petit but very shapely form. “He’s probably seen your photo too.”

Maria raised an eyebrow at him. Her eyes were huge, and dark mahogany in color. They were beautiful but not inviting.

“I neither want nor appreciate flattery, Bob.”

“OK, but the department appreciates, wants and needs the investment. So do us all a favor and go. Besides, you might find him interesting.”

Her tone was ironic. “Why, because he’s a billionaire playboy? That isn’t interesting. It’s boring.”

“Come on, Maria, give me a break!” He settled himself in her chair in front of her computer and she rested her ass against a work bench. He went on. “OK, he’s an amateur, but as amateurs go he’s an interesting guy. He spent a year living in Alaska, studying the wolves there. He did some good research and published it in Nature…”

“I read it. If one of my students had written it I would have given them a B. This guy has ego, charisma and brain in that order. I don’t like him, and there is something else…”

Bob sounded depressed, “What?”

“If he is investing in this department I do not want him interfering in my research. If he does, I will personally tell him to but out and I will expect your support.”

“If I promise, will you go?”

She sighed, “OK, I’ll go.”

The party was a small affair. There were only about two hundred guests and they seemed to come from every walk and corner of New York’s high society. Maria spotted several actors, a novelist, a couple of astrophysicists, a senator and an ex-president. Bob, as the senior member of their department, had accompanied her, but having found her a glass of champagne he bent close to her ear and whispered, “I am going funding hunting. You track and seize your prey.”

She gave him a look that would have soured fresh cream and he left, waving at people as he went.

“He is following his instinct. It’s what we all do.”

The voice was deep and rich, but there was a gravely note to it that made it sound like a growl. She turned.

“Mr MacTire, how do you do?”

“If you call me Mr MacTire, I won’t be able to call you Maria. And I really want to call you Maria. Will you be kind and call me Mark?”

He was exactly as arrogant, narcissistic and pushy as she had expected him to be, but he was also charismatic and very attractive. She smiled even though she didn’t want to.

“Mac Tíre is Irish, it means wolf. Did you change your name on purpose, from Perkins or Green?”

He tilted his head on one side. “You don’t like me. It’s OK. I get that a lot. You think I am a narcissistic playboy who uses the world as his playground, takes nothing seriously and tramples over other people to get what he wants, without ever having to try, or commit himself or make a sacrifice.”

She smiled. “You got all that from my question?”

“I have an instinct. You see,” he grinned. “Your perception of me is based on a certain number of preconceptions about people and how they behave in society. I don’t waste my time on that kind of stuff. My perception of people is based on…” he raised an eyebrow and made an eloquent gesture with his hand. “Smell.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Smell?”

“Yes. Have you ever seen two wolves when they meet?”

“What do you think? You know my whole life has been devoted to the study of wolves.”

“It is one of the many things we have in common. So you know that the first thing they do is smell each other.”

“Probably not a great idea in the middle of a cocktail party with two hundred guests.”

He shrugged and grinned. “Who gives a fuck?”

She was taken aback and for a second didn’t know what to say. Finally she half stammered, “Well, perhaps being a billionaire gives you that kind of freedom.”

He shook his head. “That has nothing to do with it.” He bent down and placed his nose by her ear, almost touching her neck, and inhaled deeply. A tremor of intense pleasure made her shudder. He let out a sigh that hovered somewhere between a groan and a growl.

He pulled back and smiled down at her. She was too astonished to react, and scared of what she would do or say if she did.

“You hold yourself back,” he said. “You are very restrained and controlled. Have you ever wondered who, or what you might be if you let yourself go?” His eyes seemed to look right inside her. He went on, “I am not free because I am a billionaire. I am a billionaire because I am free.”

She gave a small gasp, trying to conceal the powerful flood of emotions he had unleashed. She blinked a couple of times and said, “Well, you are certainly not inhibited, are you?”

“Not even a little. Your smell, under that expensive perfume, is fantastic. It is very primal. I would love to smell you without the perfume.”

Her heart pounded. He laughed as though he could hear it. She said, “OK, I think I would like you to back off now.”

“No can do, Maria, but I’ll give you some space. Let’s talk about your work. It fascinates me.”

“Yes, lets. What would you like to know?”

“I am going to put a lot of money into your department. I haven’t decided yet how much, but it will either be lots or lots more. I’d like to know how you plan to use it.”

She eyed him a moment.

“The answer to that comes in two parts. I aim to understand how the wolf DNA has evolved, how it is different from dogs – even wild dogs – and why some wolves are intensely social, while occasionally you get the fabled ‘lone wolf. I believe some of this is hardwired through DNA, but other aspects may be learned behavior.”

“All extremely interesting. That is part one. What is part two.”

“I think you know. Part two is that I will not tolerate any interference in my research. I don’t care how clever you are as a dilettante, or how much money you put into the department. I will conduct my research according to scientific principles and my own scientific objectives. That is not negotiable.”

She sipped.

He studied her for a moment, still smiling, then said, “Come, I would like you to meet some people.”

He took her arm and navigated her through sparkling guests to a small group who stood by a plate glass wall with sliding doors onto a terrace. A huge moon was rising over Manhattan, idly tinting a few scattered clouds with turquoise light. As he approached, several of the group excused themselves and moved off, leaving only an elegant woman of a certain age, and a tall, thin man whom even an exquisite, tailored suit could not make elegant.

Mark said, “Mother, Zoltan, this is Dr Maria Garcia, the extraordinary woman I was telling you about. Maria, this is my mother, Sylvia, and Zoltan, an old friend of the family.”

Sylvia smiled warmly and, taking her hands, kissed her gently on each cheek.

“My dear, you are every bit as lovely as Mark said you were.”

Zoltan took her hand and kissed it in a formal, old world way that managed to be quite nauseating.

“Enchanting.”

Sylvia said, “Mark tells me you are doing wonderful work with wolves. We are, as a family, fascinated by them. We always have been.”

Maria was surprised, and a little skeptical. “Really?”

Mark said, “So you see, it is not just the idle fancy of a dilettante. It is, you might say, in my blood.”

Sylvia seemed to observe Maria for a second before saying, “The name, you know…”

“MacTire?”

“Yes, it has nothing to do with the Scottish Mac, meaning son of.”

“Mac Tíre is Irish, it means wolf.”

“Precisely. The name is at least a thousand years old, and very rare. Mark’s ancestor had a special rapport with wolves and received the name Wolf from his clan. They said that in battle he actually became a wolf.” She gave a small laugh. “We Irish have always been fanciful in that way.”

Maria offered a lopsided smile. “This is controversial territory. The wolf-man legend is almost as old as modern man himself, as is the relationship between wolves and humans. You know we share about ninety percent of our DNA with wolves, and there is some evidence in my research that suggests that through a peculiar combination of the action of retroviruses and shared DNA, the so called ‘werewolf’ or wolf-man, actually existed at one time.”

Mark put his arm around her and grinned broadly at his mother and Zoltan. “You see?” he said, “She is amazing. I want her for my birthday!”

She looked up at him, wanting to shake him off, but enjoying the feel of his arm and the warmth of his body. Annoyingly, she was also aware of his smell, and liked it. She said, “Take it easy, wolf-man. Don’t get carried away.”

Zoltan wheezed with laughter and his eyes creased into little half moons. He wagged a finger, “Be careful, Dr Garcia, Mark always gets what he wants.”

She gave him a frigid look which he happily ignored. “Well this time, he may have got more than he bargained for.”