The Wolven

The meeting at August’s had gone better than she’d hoped. Everyone in attendance seemed eager to help. With Jagger and Fiona working the West Bank, Ryder and Caitlin going Lakeside, and she and Danyon covering the French Quarter, they would have New Orleans pretty well covered. August had taken care of the rest of South Louisiana by having the alphas post sentinels around their territories. David and Armand would keep an eye on the traffic that flowed through their bar and restaurant. The Underworld and Muriel’s were famous hot spots in the city, and eventually every tourist wound up visiting one or both. If anything new or unusual, aside from the standard freaks, who showed their behinds during Nuit du Dommage, David and Armand would either see it or hear about it.



They still didn’t have any solid clues to work with, but with so many eyes and ears on alert, they stood a far better chance of finding some than they did when it was only her and Danyon.



Danyon had not exactly been forthcoming during the meeting with the leaders of the other cultures. But she admired the fact that he had put aside his reservations for the sake of the were community.



It had to be difficult being an alpha. She knew the challenges that came with being a leader, but an alpha carried much more. Not only did he have the responsibility of his pack, he had a take-charge-and-fix-it switch that never shut off. He always ran ahead, taking bullets for those behind him. It had to have felt awkward for Danyon as he stepped to one side and allowed others to join him in the lead.



At first, when all of this began, Shauna had thought pride kept him from accepting help—hers or anyone else’s. Though there may have been a little truth to that; it wasn’t the kind of pride that made for glory-hounds. Danyon wasn’t about basking in the glory of anything. He really cared about his pack, about wolvens as a whole. She found him to be honest, honorable and a bit hard-headed—but who was she to talk?



It was impossible for Shauna not to notice that each time she thought about him, her heart thumped a bit faster and her body grew a whole lot warmer. There was no question that little Miss Stay-in-Control was falling out of control fast, and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it—not that she would have wanted to.



She wasn’t a prude by any means. There had been other men in her life, even though they were few. Some she had gone out with because they were funny or intelligent, or both. Most had been decent sex partners. But every one of them had lacked something that kept her from fully committing to them.



Danyon was different.



He simply got her.



And he did it without her having to explain a thing to him. He seemed to intuitively know what she was about, who she was at her core. She saw it in the way he looked at her, talked to her, made love to her. She could be herself with Danyon and not be afraid that any part of who she was would be rejected.



Shauna considered herself lucky, because there had been one point in her life when she probably wouldn’t have even given herself a chance to get to know him.



About two years ago, she’d gone to a party with a guy named Lance Miller, a smart, right-out-of-the-gate successful entrepreneur, who she’d been dating for about a month. The party had been for his younger cousin, Brian’s, birthday, and it was packed with younger people whose music of choice had been heavy metal. The music had been cranked up so loud Shauna had thought her eardrums would burst. She had to get out of there and fast. When she told this to Lance and tried to explain how sensitive her hearing was, he had looked at her as if she had grown an additional head and three extra nostrils. Even worse, he had been drinking rather heavily, which was obviously all he had needed to convert back to a juvenile. He started making fun of her in front of his cousin’s friends, who in turn made certain to shout whenever they spoke to her, crank up the music another ten decibels, and intermittently blow air horns in the house for over an hour.



She had stormed out of there, leaving Lance to play with the rest of the juvenile delinquents. It was the last time she had spoken to Lance, much less saw him. After that experience, it had taken her a while to gather up enough courage to date again.



For Shauna, physical attraction only played a bit role when it came to relationships. There were so many other things far more important. Like enjoying each other’s company, valuing each other’s uniqueness—being able to laugh together, play together, appreciate similar things and having mutual interests and values.



Danyon was right on the mark in all those areas…



She turned the knob on the shower head, intensifying the spray. Standing anywhere thinking about Danyon was distracting for her. Standing naked in a soothing shower and thinking about him was downright physical torture.



She grabbed a loofah and a bottle of body wash, and was about to start scrubbing away when she thought she heard the chimes of the doorbell.



Puzzled, Shauna turned off the shower.



In order for someone to reach the doorbell, they had to get past a ten-foot tall, wrought iron gate. The only way for them to get through that gate was to be buzzed in by someone in the main section of the house. Fiona and Caitlin had left over an hour ago to meet Jagger and Ryder, so neither of them could have buzzed anyone through. It was possible that whoever went through the gate last may not have closed it all the way, then left, thinking it had latched.



Shauna waited a few more seconds, listening, but heard nothing more.



She was about to turn the shower back on, when she heard the chimes go off again.



“Who the heck can that be?” she asked aloud, and stepped out of the shower.



After wrapping herself in a towel, she padded out of the bathroom and her apartment, quickly heading for the main section of the house and the front door. Danyon wasn’t due to meet her for another hour and a half, and she wasn’t expecting any other company. She figured she’d look through the peephole to make certain it wasn’t some kind of emergency—like someone standing out there on fire, but unless that was the case, she had no intentions of letting whoever it was into the house.



When she reached the front door, Shauna was surprised to see Danyon standing on the other side of the peephole. A thought occurred to her, and she bit her bottom lip. They had discussed the possibility of one or more shape-shifters being responsible for the murders, and although the idea had been given little merit, no one knew for sure if they weren’t. What if the man standing outside her door was a shifter posing as Danyon? She would have to let him in to know for certain. A shifter might be able to take on his appearance, but not Danyon’s natural scent, which was something she knew very, very well. The only problem was she had to be close enough to him to smell it, which meant letting him into the house, which defeated the purpose. Then she remembered something…



Shauna pressed an ear to the thin crack between the door and the door frame, near one of the hinges. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrated and prayed that her hypersensitive hearing wouldn’t fail her now.



It didn’t.



In a matter of seconds she heard it—the sound of his breathing. The same sound she had heard when Danyon had whispered her name—the same that had followed his moans of pleasure. She would know it anywhere—and knew that a shifter could not mimic breathing patterns.



Now that she was certain it was Danyon, Shauna suddenly felt a rush of panic, and her eyes flew open. What if he was bringing news about another dead were? She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, forgetting she was dressed only in a towel.



“What’s wrong?” she asked, not bothering with the standard hello.



“Nothing,” he said, looking a little surprised—and amused.



“Then what are you doing here?”



“Do you greet all of your guests this way?”



Shauna leaned to one side, looked past his left arm, and saw that the wrought iron gate was closed. “Just the ones I work with on murders scenes. How did you get past the gate?”



Danyon looked down at his feet. “Uh…long legs?”



“The wall and gate are ten feet tall.”



“Okay…I took pole vaulting in high school?”



Shauna smiled and motioned him inside. It wasn’t until she closed the door that she realized she was wrapped only in a towel. She clutched it tightly to make sure it stayed closed.



“Sorry, I’m not dressed yet,” she said. “Was in the shower. Besides, you said you’d be here at ten. It’s a little before eight-thirty.”



“I thought we’d get a bite to eat before hitting the Quarter.”



“You could have called to give me a heads up, you know.”



He grinned. “Spur of the moment thing.”



“Are you always this spontaneous?”



“Now that you mention it…not really. It just sounded like a good excuse for being early.”



Shauna laughed softly. “Fair enough. Come in then. You can have a seat in my apartment while I get dressed.”



As soon as they left the foyer and entered commons central, Danyon let out a low whistle of appreciation.



“Very nice,” he said, taking in the two curving stair cases, the wall tapestries, the chandelier and heavy oak furniture.



“Thanks,” she said. “My sisters deserve all the cred it, though. I have the interior decorating talent of a porcupine.”



“Oh, I bet you have a great sense of style.”



“Not even close. If they had left me to decorate this place, it would look like an oversized garage.” She grinned. “Fiona lives over there, in the west wing, and Caitlin lives in the east wing. My place is straight ahead.”



“I think it’s great that each of you have your individual space, but still live under one roof.”



“Me, too. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters dearly, but we’d probably get on each other’s nerves if we had to live in the same space every day.”



When they finally reached her apartment, Shauna signaled for him to follow her through the open door. She had obviously forgotten to close it in her mad dash to see who was at the main entry. “Here we are,” she said.



She watched him look over the place from the corner of her eye. Judging by his smile, he evidently approved.