“Our flight will be arriving in Chicago at...” The sound of the pilot’s voice crackling over the speakers broke the spell under which she’d fallen and Cassie jerked back.
Her cheek bone struck Bryan’s nose and he gave a muffled cry of pain, clamping his hand over the injured member. The pilot continued talking, though Cassie had no idea what he was saying. She was too busy staring in shock at Bryan. At least he seemed equally surprised, though his recovery appeared shorter. He swallowed hard, touched his nose gingerly and then gruffly mumbled something about the bathroom.
Staring at his retreating form, Cassie cursed herself for bringing up the topic of dream wolves; she wasn’t ready for this...whatever it was...that had just happened between them. If she’d understood him correctly, Bryan could be her...mate.
She shivered, hardly able to make her mind form the word. It didn’t matter that he was the hottest man she’d been around in ages, or that she turned into a puddle of desire around him. Mates sounded so...animal-like. Her stomach churned. There had to be some other explanation!
For a while she tried to occupy her mind with her magazine, flipping the pages, looking for something worth reading. Bryan returned and sat down beside her but made no effort to start a conversation. Silence stretched between them and she replayed what had just happened over and over in her mind. He’d said a few wolves dreamed of their mates but he hadn’t said all. Perhaps there was a mistake. She needed more information.
Staring down at her hands, she picked at her finger nail and gathered her courage. She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual, indifferent. “You said that only some wolves have dreams of their mates. Why is that?”
At first she didn’t think he was going to answer; he seemed lost in thought.
“Bryan?” She looked over at him and touched his arm gently.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry.” He gave his head a shake and started to explain. “I’m not an expert on the phenomenon, but a friend of mine knows quite a bit about the old ways. Marco—he’s a pack member by the way—said that it’s mostly only royal or blue-blooded werewolves that can do this. There aren’t many of those around anymore, though Marco claims a few of the European packs have practised selective breeding to ensure the trait isn’t lost.”
Royal. Blue-blooded. Cassie repeated the words to herself thinking of the information she’d read on the internet. “Er...what else can these blue-blooded werewolves do?”
Bryan seemed to relax fractionally, obviously more comfortable with this conversation than their previous one. “Well, of course they can magick their clothes on and off when they shift, but a lot of us still have that ability. Um...telekinesis—that’s moving objects with your mind—and teleportation—disappearing and appearing somewhere else. There’s probably other stuff too, but like I said, I don’t really know much about it. It seems sort of a cool trick, if in fact it’s true.”
A funny feeling was growing inside her. It was part dread as the reality that she was indeed a werewolf became more and more apparent, but part of it was anticipation as if she were on the verge of some monumental discovery. “Can you tell me more about this teleporting?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s hard to do and to control. It involves thinking about a place you’ve been or at least seen in a picture, similar to imagining how you look when you resume your human form. Then somehow you molecularize your body as if shifting, but then transfer the energy across space and you appear in another location.”
“You just appear there...” Cassie squeezed her hands together tightly and forced the needed words from her mouth. “Bryan, I can do that.” She glanced at him nervously, wondering how he’d take the news.
“Do what?”
“What you just said. Disappear and appear somewhere else. Teleport.”
“You what..?” He looked at her sceptically. “But...? You said you’ve never even changed into a werewolf until yesterday.”
“I know. I’ve kept from changing by drugging myself and locking myself in my bedroom. But sometimes, when it’s a full moon, I’ll wake up someplace else. In the park or the grocery store.” Cassie looked at him earnestly. “That’s how I ended up in Vegas. The night my uncle died, I ran away. I was...scared the werewolf would get me because I’d witnessed him killing Mr. Aldrich and knew the secret of werewolf existence.”
She flushed, feeling a bit embarrassed saying that to him despite the truth of the statement. “Anyway, I got as far as Kansas that first night and took a motel room. It was a full moon and I was feeling really strange. I took one of my pills and lay down on the bed trying to think of someplace fun, just to take my mind off things. For some reason Vegas popped into my head. I started to feel really weird and the next thing I knew, I woke up in an alleyway in downtown Las Vegas.”
For a moment, Bryan said nothing and she wondered if he believed her or not. Then he shook his head, a deep rich chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Damn, but Ryne does know how to pick ‘em.”
“What do you mean?” She was bit affronted that he was laughing after her great revelation.
“I mean, lots of packs have found stray wolves, but Ryne goes and finds a rare blue-blooded werewolf who is also an heiress worth millions of dollars. Damn, but the other packs are going to be jealous now!”
Cassie looked at him askance. “That’s all you have to say? Bryan, I can appear and disappear!”
“I heard you. It’s a neat trick and we’ll have to teach you how to control it, but in the grand scheme of things, it isn’t that important.” He chuckled again, shaking his head.
“Oh.” Cassie felt a bit deflated by his nonchalant acceptance of her ability. She wasn’t sure why she cared. After all, she didn’t even want to be a werewolf, let alone a blue-blooded one. Hmm... Blue-blooded or royal. “So, who do you think my parents might be?”
“You mean, you don’t know?”
She shook her head. “My mother’s name was Luisa, but my uncle never mentioned my father. I think my mom was from Spain.”
“With your colouring that makes sense.” He eyed her, taking in her hair, his gaze skimming over her features. His eyes seemed to grow darker, heavy-lidded, and she could feel the pull beginning between them again. She was just starting to lean closer, when he blinked and shook his head, breaking the connection. Cassie felt a bit...put out for some reason...but struggled not to show it.
Bryan continued speaking. “Spain, you say? Marco came from Spain about three years ago. When we get back to Canada, he might be able to help out. There aren’t that many royal werewolves around. I’m sure he’ll know something.”
The prospect of learning more about her parents was exciting, even if they were werewolves. Cassie had always known her uncle wasn’t really her uncle, but had somehow sensed she shouldn’t ask about her background. She wondered who they might’ve been, what they had looked like and if she had any cousins. After years of being alone, the idea of having relatives seemed almost unreal.
Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and contemplated all that she’d just learned. She was possibly a royal werewolf with the ability to teleport, she might have family back in Spain, and—she peered at Bryan through her lashes—she might be sitting beside her future mate!
*****
Marla leaned against the headboard, running her fingers through Jeffries’ hair. He sighed and rolled over, then rubbed his eyes.
“Hello, lover.” She cooed the words and watched the satisfied smile that spread over his face.
“Morning.” Jeffries stretched and yawned. “You tired me out last night.”
“Mmm... But it was a good tired, wasn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. The best.”
“I’m glad.” She trailed her hand across his chest and then followed the arrow of hair to his navel. “Do you remember what we talked about last night?”
“No... Oh! The elevator? You weren’t serious about that, were you?” He rolled onto his side to face her and propped himself up on his elbow.
>
“Of course I was. It’s just a bit of a joke on Sylvia, that’s all. She was teasing me about being afraid of spiders and actually put one on my desk! I know she’s afraid of heights, so if the elevator doors open and there’s just this big black chasm, she’ll be scared spitless.”
“But, that’s kind of dangerous. I mean, what if she isn’t watching and actually steps ahead, thinking the elevator is there?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I’m there to grab her or I’ll string a bunch of bungee cords inside the door. It will be harmless prank, that’s all.”
“I still don’t know, Marla.”
She gently pushed him onto his back and slid her fingers lower, caressing his manhood. It sprang to life and he groaned in appreciation. “Please? For me?”
“I should have never told you that I used to do elevator maintenance.” Jeffries spoke the words through gritted teeth.
“I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She leaned forward, her bare breasts brushing against his chest. Her lips trailed over his face and her hand worked his shaft causing it to grow harder.
“Well...I suppose. As long as you promise to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
Marla traced his lips with her tongue. “I promise to be right there to make sure it works perfectly.”
“When...” His breathing hitched as she slid on top of him and nibbled his chest. “When do you want to do this?”
“As soon as possible... Maybe this evening? Or tomorrow morning?” She worked her way down his body, dipping her tongue into his belly button.
“Okay... What about Swanson’s security?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not as diligent as people think. If need be, I’ll distract him.” Marla pressed a kiss to Jeffries thigh. Her wolf whined and whimpered but she ignored it and concentrated on the man before her.
“Make sure you have the doorway secured so she can’t fall.” Jeffries threw his head back and bit his lip, his body arching in obvious pleasure.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be ready on my end. Everything.”
*****
Kellen slowly drifted back to consciousness and tried to open his eyes. They felt gritty and the lids were partially stuck shut. He tried to raise his hand to wipe them, but found his arms wouldn’t respond. Or rather, they were trying to respond, but seemed to be stuck. He shook his head and forced his eyes open, squinting as his pupils adjusted to the brightness.
His neck twinged as he lifted his head, protesting the movement. Apparently he’d fallen asleep sitting up, but where...? Looking around the room, nothing was familiar. He furrowed his brow, trying to recall recent events.
He hissed as his memory kicked in, his whole body suddenly alert. He’d been kidnapped by Hugh and taken to Dollar Niche. Eddie wanted to turn Sandy over to whoever it was that was looking for her in exchange for a hefty reward.
Eddie had talked on the phone to someone—Kellen struggled to recall the name, but it wouldn’t come to him—then Hugh had slapped him around. Last thing he recalled was being injected with something.
Was he still in Dollar Niche? No, this place was classier. Thick Berber carpet on the floors, fancy window treatments... No furniture though, except of course, for the chair he was tied to. It was plain wood without an ounce of cushioning and his body was letting him know that fact loud and clear. He shifted his weight, trying to ease some of the strain and pressure on his back and upper legs.
Without warning, the door swung open and Hugh walked in. The blond giant looked well rested and ready for another game of beat-up-Kellen. There were bandages on his neck and Kellen recalled the strange, but well-timed dog attack that had occurred. It had given Sandy a chance to escape. He hoped she was okay, wherever she was.
“You’re awake.”
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.” Kellen kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Being rude to the people who held you captive probably wasn’t a good idea, but then again, dumb ideas seemed to be his forte lately.
Hugh grumbled and Kellen made a half-hearted effort to apologize. Irritating the man wouldn’t help his cause any. “Sorry. I’m not a morning person.”
He peered behind Hugh to see a long hallway lined with doors. It gave no clue as to where he was. “So, where’s your sidekick?”
“Eddie? He’s gone; he doesn’t like the rough stuff. Drove us to the airport and then took off.”
“But you decided to stick around.”
Hugh shrugged. “Sure. This is the type of work I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Being a thug was your career goal?”
“Hey, we all have our own aspirations.” Hugh folded his arms and looked at him belligerently.
Kellen sighed. If he’d ever harboured any hopes that Hugh might be a friendly jailor who could be persuaded to let him go, they quickly died.
Another man appeared in the door way and Hugh stepped aside to let him in. The newcomer was probably in his late fifties, well dressed with a silk scarf wrapped pretentiously around his neck. Kellen raised his eyebrows at the sight of the scarf, but said nothing.
“Good morning, Mr. Anderson.” The man’s voice was raspy, almost forced. He walked around Kellen making tsking sounds. “I apologize for your accommodations last night, but it couldn’t be helped. The same with your appearance. If you’d been more cooperative, Hugh wouldn’t have had to get quite so physical with you.”
Kellen recalled Hugh grabbing him by the collar and taking a swing at him, but beyond that, nothing. How had he been uncooperative if he’d been unconscious? Or had Hugh only used that as an excuse to deliver a few more blows than needed? Deciding that knowing the truth wouldn’t make any difference, Kellen focussed on watching this new player in the game. An icy coldness seemed to ooze from the man’s pores as if his heart had quit beating years ago.
“Who are you?” The words slipped past Kellen’s lips before he could stop them.
A shadow of a smile passed over the man’s lips, the corners barely turning before it became impassive again. “Who I am is none of your concern. What I want is. And that is simply to restore that poor child, Cassandra Greyson, to her rightful place as heiress of the Greyson estate.”
“Sorry,” Kellen shook his head. “She gave me the distinct impression that she didn’t want to come back. She wasn’t happy in her old life. Even if I knew where she was right now, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Chuckling the man stood in front of Kellen, his hands clasped behind his back. “Thankfully, that isn’t necessary any longer. You are merely the bait now. I have it on good authority that she left Las Vegas on a flight here just a few hours ago and should be landing about now.” The man reached towards Kellen and he jerked back expecting another blow. Instead the man smiled and patted his cheek. “You just sit here like a good boy. As soon as we have the girl, we’ll let you go.”
Hugh snorted as if he knew some inside joke and held the door open for the other man. As they left, Kellen was sure he heard Hugh address the fellow as Mr. Aldrich. Not that it mattered. The name meant nothing to him.
He pulled on the ropes that bound his arms. He didn’t believe them when they said he’d be free to go once Sandy—Cassandra—arrived. After all, he’d seen their faces and could report them to the authorities. But would anyone believe him, even if he did make it out alive?
Kellen Anderson was just another gambling addict. Besides he had his own murky past. It was just petty theft as a teen, but still... He clenched his jaw tight and shook his head. The cops wouldn’t believe him. They’d run his background first, question his own involvement in the whole affair, and probably think he was just disgruntled because he didn’t get his cut of the reward money.
But Sandy would vouch for him, wouldn’t she? His spirits perked, hope swelling in him before it plummeted like a popped balloon. Unless, she was too angry about him selling her out. His stomach clenched and he felt sick thinking about how Sandy probably perceived him at the moment. For three years n
ow she’d trusted him, believed in him and now...
Swallowing hard, he tried to reassure himself about his true intentions. He hadn’t really been going to call that number, at least not after he’d thought about it and talked to Sandy. It was just an impulsive idea, but he’d never have carried it through once he knew her true feelings on returning home. Surely, she’d know that...
He licked his lips, the nauseous feeling growing inside him again. If Sandy lost faith in him—if he lost her—he’d have no one. Even if she didn’t love him the way he hoped, she was still there for him, still someone he could call his own. Without her, there’d be no reason to keep going...
Damn, but he wished he’d never seen that flyer, never borrowed money from Dollar Niche, never even gone gambling with his supposed ‘friends.’ Why couldn’t he say no to the clawing need that rose up inside him? Why was he so weak that he couldn’t resist the thrill of the game, the adrenaline rush that came from teetering on the edge of winning or losing a fortune? It was a sickness that left him shaking and light-headed, yet had him returning over and over for just one game, one more deal of the cards or roll of the dice. Even now he could imagine how it would feel to be at a gaming table; his heart would be pounding, his brain racing as he calculated the odds...
He let his head drop forward and cursed himself. His addiction had already taken so much from him and now it was going to destroy the only good thing left in his miserable life...
Chapter 17
Bryan and Cassie spent the rest of the flight in large blocks of silence interspersed with brief moments of overly polite banal conversation. Recent revelations, especially the fact Bryan might be her predestined mate...er...husband...were extremely...unsettling. Her human half told her that it couldn’t possibly be true; you didn’t meet people in your dreams. Another part of her seemed to sit up, eagerly wagging its tail at the very idea. She scolded that part of herself, telling it to try and show some self restraint while ensuring her human half didn’t dwell too much on Bryan’s very appealing attributes.