CHAPTER

Andreas needed to feed his woman. The meager offering he’d given her earlier was only enough to be insulting, and he needed to start providing for her. Given he was a man of considerable means, he should have been doing more. He should have been better prepared, but never in his wildest dreams would he have anticipated having a mate, and certainly not one like Mary.

She’d moved away from him, weaving through the stored items in the expansive basement and murmuring to herself about the curiosities she’d found.

He remained anchored on the chair with the blanket draped over his waist, watching her.

Listening to her belly growl.

Every time he thought about getting up and pulling on his clothes, his skin began to ripple and the muscles beneath spasmed, ready to shift into that beast he was again.

He didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling that might have been triggering the metamorphosis, but had found keeping still and quiet kept the beast locked down. Too bad, because he wanted sweet Mary back in his arms.

“What do you plan to do with all this stuff?” she asked. “When’s the last time anyone’s been down here?”

He leaned back against the settee and sighed. “There are pears in the refrigerator. Please eat them. And, the last time I spent any significant amount of time down here was about four months ago. I spoke with some engineers about the structural integrity of the building.”

“Why were you concerned about that?” She did what he asked—returned to the makeshift kitchen and pulled the fruit from the refrigerator shelf. “Did you plan on doing something with the building?”

“Yes and no. The town wanted proof that the building shouldn’t be condemned. They sent their inspectors out, but I didn’t trust them. With or without the building on the property, this lot is worth a great deal.”

She took a bite of one of the pears and retreated into the maze of junk. “What did the inspectors say?”

“Approximately what you’d expect, but they gave me the opportunity to appeal their decision. I hired two independent engineers to write up assessments about the building. They spent plenty of time down here.”

“I bet. What’d they say?”

“One said that this building could likely withstand a nuclear apocalypse, though I’m certain he was exaggerating, at least somewhat. The other confirmed that there’s no justifiable reason to raze the building.”

“What do you think the town wants?”

Andreas shrugged, and then remembered she couldn’t see him. Her voice had come from somewhere in the back. There were lots of interesting treasures there he thought she’d like. “Hard to speculate on what the town would want with this particular parcel, though I’ve heard rumors that the town planners have been eying locations for the new auditorium.”

She scoffed. “Yes, that’s exactly what we need. Another underutilized building in a place that’s populated in large quantities by transients.”

“No one ever said bureaucrats were supposed to make sense, sweet Mary.”

“I know that all too well. I’m a paralegal, remember? I deal with people who talk out of both sides of their mouths every single day. Ooh, Andreas! What are these?”

Smiling at her sudden excitement, he pushed onto his feet, draped the blanket over his shoulder toga-style, and padded after her. He had a pretty good idea of what she’d found and, upon spying her crouched beside the open crate, holding both pears in one hand, and tucking her fair hair behind her ears with the other, he confirmed his suspicion.

“My family used to do some dealing in railroad supplying. Not the rough things like tracks and such, but the upholstered seats, the tables in the dining cars, the dishes…”

She held up one gilt-trimmed plate and scoffed. “That is incredibly gorgeous.”

“Mmm.” He glanced around the niche and did a quick estimate of how many must have been left. His grandfather had sold some at auction, and many other things from the basement as well, but he’d died before he could clean up the way he wanted to. He’d wanted to make sure the items in the building went to people who would know how to treat them. “I think of that particular pattern, there are twenty dozen left.”

She whistled low. “You could make some high-end caterer very happy.”

He grimaced. “Perhaps. I haven’t decided yet on what to do with all of this. My grandfather’s inventory sheets are incomplete. I would need to know everything that’s here before I make any decisions.”

“Wise.” Sighing, she set the plate gingerly back into the crate. “I guess that’s the same way I’ve dealt with my father’s property. I didn’t know what I was willing to let go of until I understood the scope of what all was there.” She accepted his hand for help standing. “And I’m sure you know best to maximize your profit on these things.”

“I’m not entirely concerned with profit.”

“No?” She slanted a brow and took a large bite of a pear.

Its juice dribbled down her chin. She lifted a hand, ostensibly to wipe the liquid away, but he got there first. He licked the juice away, and sighed against her parted lips.

“Thank you.” Her lips curved. “I think.”

“You drive me to distraction,” he whispered. He took a step back from her because she could very easily unpin his limited self-control, and he was afraid to shift again and not be able to shift back. He didn’t want to lose time on four legs. He wanted to be on two legs with his human throat and mouth, able to talk to and understand his mate. “And regarding the plates, I like money a great deal, but not every transaction is about making more of it.”

“You’re quite wise. Did you know that?” Winking at him, she moved on to other crates.

He followed, grinning. Following her seemed natural and smart. She was curious, but cautious. She’d keep him as safe as he’d keep her.

“I’d just as soon donate much of this,” he said.

“I bet the folks in Norseton would take it off your hands.”

“What would they do with dozens of dishes?”

“Don’t you read the Norseton e-newsletter?”

“No, I didn’t realize there was one.”

“It’s really entertaining, actually. The queen’s aide, Lora, compiles all the news and happenings. There’s also a really freaking difficult crossword puzzle in there. Some of the facts are pretty arcane. I can never complete it without copious assistance from Google, and even that’s risky because people on the Internet aren’t always great spellers.”

He snorted, and she smiled.

When she smiled, so soft and genuine, he started to believe wholeheartedly that the future wouldn’t be as execrable as the recent past. She’d make things better.

“Anyway, they host these huge banquets there all the time. They’re not all super-fancy, but I think dishes like those would be pretty versatile. I also think Muriel would appreciate that they have a little history.”

“Hmm. Think so?”

“I do.”

Across the room, Mary’s phone chimed loudly.

“Oh! I’d better see who that is. I’m sure there are a lot of people trying to get in touch with me today.”

He followed at her heels, curious. Worried, really, of what she’d say or do—if she’d send out some sort of S.O.S. for her rescue, leaving Andreas high and dry, or if she’d keep her personal business exactly that—personal.

She fished the phone out of her bag, sat on the settee, and squinted at the screen. “Oh.” She typed in a response and sent it before Andreas could query her about the recipient.

“The wolves,” she said aloofly. “They needed to know our exact location.”

He set his nails against the flesh over his sternum again. Inside, he felt that beastly stir again—the agitated flexing of an impatient, untrusting animal. “Well, surely, you didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Well, yes, that’s the point. They can’t help you if they can’t get close to you, and what difference would it make if they came here versus some random, public place? At least here, we’re in your territory.” She giggled, but he didn’t find anything amusing about the joke.

They were in his territory, and he’d defend his home against all outsiders. He’d protect what was his and who was his, and didn’t care how bloody the fight was. If they got anywhere near—

His hand, pale before, was brown and gnarling. His nails extending and curling under. Fur spreading.

He gripped his transforming wrists and yanked his blurring gaze up to her. “No!”

“No, no, no, stay with me.” She grabbed him by his hair and yanked. “Don’t you dare shapeshift right now. Resist!”

___

“Damn you!” Mary spat, and then ran as quickly as she could to the door Andreas had herded her through. She just needed to get it open. She wasn’t going anywhere—she wouldn’t abandon him—but she needed to let those other wolves in. If she’d ever thought there was a possibility she’d be trying to outrun a territorial werewolf, she wouldn’t have put money on a wager.

“You stay!” she snapped, weaving through the clutter in the basement and eying the door at the side. “I don’t know which part of you is listening to me right now, but I swear, if you don’t behave yourself, I will hogtie you and torture you with every trick in my arsenal the moment you shift back. You like whips? I’ve got one.”

The wolf stopped. Then, he canted his head in a very human way and eased closer.

She scoffed. “Damned Vikings. I bet you’d like that, huh? A little bondage and pain would probably set you off like a rocket. I’ll have to think of something else. What do dogs dislike? Baths?” She climbed atop a crate and then jumped down on the other side.

If she could get around the row of boxes, she only needed to zip past the door and knock the latch up. It was a very simple, but effective, closure.

“Can you hear me, Andreas? Is that you I see in the wolf’s eyes, or are you letting the beast make a fool of you? That doesn’t sound like something a man who’s meant to be my mate would have a problem with. My man would be in control.”

She suspected that she needed to control him, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She wanted to get him angry enough that he forced himself back to his two-legged configuration.

“No man of mine would let a dog lead him around. He’d be the one holding the leash.”

Andreas paused his pursuit again and did that odd canting of his head, though he had one paw still raised to take another step.

She ran.

She darted around the wall of crates, slapped the latch up and pushed the door out. “This way!” she shouted outside, and hoped those wolves were out there, because Andreas’s teeth sank into the fabric of her skirt and tugged her back.

He growled as he pulled her.

She sighed. She’d liked that skirt. “Stop pulling me!” she snapped at him.

He growled again and gave her a hard yank that knocked her onto her bottom. He put his snout in her face, and a rumbling noise sounded from his throat.

As anyone would be when faced down by a predator with a human-sized brain, she was afraid. He could hurt her—really hurt her—if he weren’t in his right mind. If he didn’t understand who she was and what she could be for him, he’d attack. He’d see everything she was doing as a threat, and she was simply trying to get him help so she could love him the way he needed.

“Hold it right there,” came a deep, calm voice from the open door.

Swallowing, Mary didn’t move her body, but she shifted her gaze toward the voice.

There were two men in the doorway, clad in leather and taking up a lot of space.

Wolves?

If they were wolves, then they must have been predators of a different sort. Even from where she stood, she could feel the hot energy pouring off of them. Not quite like Andreas. Animals of another sort.

Andreas’s growl grew louder, but she knew the sound wasn’t directed at her that time. The warning was meant for the newcomers.

One of the men, who wore a patch over his eye and his hair long, took another step into the room, baring fangs that had snapped down fast as switchblades. “You want to see who’s the alpha here?” he said on a growl of his own. “You want to see who’s the biggest dog in the room?”

Andreas stopped growling, but he didn’t appear to be backing down from the challenge he’d made. He didn’t lower his body or hang his head. He looked at the newcomers head-on.

Please don’t embarrass him.

“Mary, I’m going to arc around to you, okay?” the other man said. “We’re not going to let him hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about him hurting me. I think he’s angry because you’re intruding and I’m…his mate.”

The one with the eye patch stilled. His mouth opened then closed wordlessly. His brow furrowed. “His mate?” He turned to the other man, as if in silent conference.

The other man cocked a dark brow. “And how do you feel about that?” he asked her.

“I think—” She shook her head. She more than thought. “No, I know I’m fine. I can handle him.” There was no one else for Andreas. She’d decided that, and Andreas would just have to cope with having a nosy Valkyrie as a girlfriend. “Am I a little freaked out right now, though?” she asked, grimacing a bit. “Absolutely.”

“We’ll fix this,” the second guy said.

“How?”

“Our energy—our magic, I guess you’d call it—will keep his at bay until the two parts of him are back in sync.” As he’d said, he arced the long way around and approached Mary from the rear.

Andreas was so busy watching him that he didn’t pay attention to the guy with the eye patch.

He grabbed Andreas around the neck and forced him to the floor.

“Please!” Mary shouted.

“It’s all right,” the other guy said. “Anton’s not gonna hurt him, and trust me, we’re not going to tell anyone about this except my dad.”

“Your dad?”

He grunted and extended a hand to Mary to shake. “I’m Vic Carbone. Adam’s my father.”

“Oh!” She shook his hand and then turned her attention back to the scuffle nearby.

Anton was working very hard not to hurt Andreas, but Andreas wasn’t giving him any such courtesy. He was trying to nip and claw at the man—trying to wrest himself free of his grip—but Anton had obviously had practice.”

“You’ve done this before?” she asked Vic.

He nodded. “A few times.”

“What’ll happen afterward?”

“That’s up to you, I guess. My father thought the best course of action would be for us to bundle him up and take him back to Norseton with us until he’s better able to control himself, but we’re not going to force him to do anything.”

“He’s not in a good place to be making decisions. I mean, look at him.” She indicated toward the snarling beast, who was meaner, angrier, than Andreas on two legs would ever be. He might have been antisocial and reclusive, but he wasn’t violent.

“You can decide,” Vic said. “If you trust us to help him, we’ll help him, and we’ll take our lumps later on if he’s pissed. If you don’t trust us to take him, we’ll go.”

“You’re not taking him.”

Vic grimaced, then nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, body coiled tight with fear at the still-raging scuffle, “I want you to help him, but I’m not going to let you take him alone. I’m going, too.”

“To Norseton?”

“I was going to go anyway. Maybe not so soon, but now’s as good a time as any. If you can help him, take him. And please…” She gestured to the fight. “Can’t you stop this? Can you help?”

“Yeah. I can help. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

Vic was already heeling off his boots and peeling off his shirt. “Close your eyes. That way, your man won’t get pissed at me for you having seen me in my birthday suit. If you were a wolf, he probably wouldn’t care, but I’m not gonna take the chance. I’m going to shift. Forcing his magic back will be easier if we’re in the same form.”

“Oh.” She jammed her eyes shut and then turned her back for good measure.

Mary wanted to watch, though. She felt like she needed to see the thing she had put into motion so she wouldn’t allow herself to plead ignorance later, but she was going to trust Anton and Vic to do what they said. She didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t a wolf. She didn’t understand wolf impulses or know how to soothe them, but she could make decisions on the fly. Every day, she did that at work—in every interview she conducted and every investigation she completed. She knew how to get shit done, even when she couldn’t do it all herself.

The noise behind her quieted.

Holding her breath, she turned, slowly, afraid to see to fallout—afraid to see Andreas hurt.

He was on his belly in his human form. His breathing was ragged, and his cheeks and jaw a bit scraped, but otherwise calm.

Gods. She put her hand to her heaving breast like some kind of delicate maiden.

Anton had his hands on Andreas’s shoulders and turned his head to sight her with his good eye.

“Is he…”

Still in his fur, Vic sat nearby and looked down at his “victim.”

“Is Andreas okay?” she asked.

Anton waved her over. “Come on. Your touch will do him some good, probably.”

She moved slowly to him, watching his face for signs of anger or betrayal, but he just looked tired. She knelt next to him and put her cheek against his, sighing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to get you help. We’re going to go with them.”

“G-go where?” His voice was halting, as if he were having trouble getting his throat to work properly.

“To Norseton. We’re going to go to Norseton until you’re better. I’ll stay with you until you’re stable.”

He swallowed audibly. “And then what?”

“And then…” She passed her fingers through his messy hair and stilled them at the base of his neck. “Then we’ll figure out what to do with ourselves, I imagine. We need to clear out of here before the locals figure out where we’re defecting to.”

He sighed. “They’re going to vandalize my building, aren’t they?”

She sighed, too. “Probably. You might want to move up your timeline of getting this stuff catalogued.”

Grimacing, he closed his eyes. “It’s a lot of stuff.”