Midnight Wolf

Angus’s body turned inside out as the cage spun around and around.

  But no, the ride was slowing, the cages flipping right side up and remaining so. Two minutes, Tamsin had promised. Two minutes of perfect terror.

  Tamsin held his gaze, her tawny eyes full of sudden excitement but also worry about what impact her words would have on him.

  She’d just said she’d be his mate.

  A shrill keening cut through the air, obliterating all thought. It was Ciaran, yelling in joy.

  “Dad—did you hear what she said? She accepted the mate-claim!”

  Tamsin swallowed. She clutched the bar in front of her, though the cage had ceased its rocking. “I’ll have to say it again, when Dante’s around. Need more than one Shifter witness, right?”

  Angus couldn’t remember at the moment. Did a cub, and his own, count as a witness?

  And who cared? The mate-claim was a personal thing. The witnessing had begun in the days when Shifters were first free of the Fae, and males grabbed any female they could. If a mate-claim was witnessed, then all Shifters would know that female was no longer fair game.

  “I heard her.” Angus’s voice was guttural, sounding wrong. “I heard, son.”

  “Well?” Tamsin’s lips shook once. “Do you accept my acceptance of your mate-claim?”

  A big lump lodged in Angus’s throat. “Yes,” he croaked out.

  Ciaran cheered again. The woman operating the ride unlocked the cage, opening it wide so they could step out.

  “Sounds like you liked it,” she said to Ciaran.

  “Sure did. Can we go again?”

  “No!” Angus hauled Ciaran down and away. He heard both Tamsin and the woman laugh.

  That is, Angus tried to lead Ciaran away. Angus’s legs wobbled, and walking was suddenly impossible.

  Tamsin staggered into him. “You know the ride was great when you forget which way is up.”

  “I’m thinking I’m sorry I ate breakfast.” What the hell had made Angus want to devour all those pancakes?

  Tamsin steadied Angus with one hand, recovering her equilibrium quickly. “Let’s find Dante. We have a lot to tell him.”

  Angus couldn’t remember what. He only knew that when he clasped Tamsin’s hand, it felt right, that his heart warmed and his stomach ceased roiling.

  To hell with Dante. Angus wanted a soft, private place to be alone with Tamsin.

  The carnival was in full swing by now. Crowds filled the space, people yelled at one another, laughed, squealed, shouted. More screams came from the Zipper as a new set of victims went aloft. The octopus ride sent its arms careening toward the barricades between it and the crowd, to abruptly pull them back at the last second.

  Angus knew only the lightness of Tamsin’s hand in his, the connection that came from their touch.

  He had a mate. After all the years of loneliness, of Shifter women avoiding him because of the taint of his brother’s perfidy, Tamsin had smiled and said she would stay. Hell, he’d mostly avoided the Shifter women, to be honest. Hard to be with women who knew his mate had walked away from him.

  Tamsin didn’t care. She sympathized but didn’t blame him for April’s faithlessness. She looked at Angus, and wanted to be with him.

  Angus knew it was impossible. They faced huge obstacles, such as his Collar, the Bureau wanting to capture Tamsin, Dylan trying to use her, and them having nowhere to live, nowhere to be safe. The carnival was fine for today, maybe even for tomorrow, but what about after that?

  The practical thoughts dove to the back of Angus’s mind. None of it was important at the moment.

  The front of his mind told him Tamsin was his mate. A beautiful woman to bury himself inside and maybe risk losing his heart to.

  Tamsin halted next to him, stepped against the startled Angus, and kissed him.

  The crowd faded. Angus wrapped his arms around Tamsin, pulling her to him, burying his fingers in the warmth of her shirt. Her silly hat, which she’d resumed, fell from her head, but Ciaran caught it before it thumped to the dust.

  Angus slid a hand under her hair, burying his fingers in the silken strands. He pulled her up to him, opening her mouth, tasting her laughter, her excitement.

  Her lips parted his, her tongue a point of spice, her mouth moving on his. Tamsin curved against him, her breasts in the thin tie-dyed shirt she’d borrowed from Dante’s mate squeezing against his chest. He could feel the tight points of her nipples, a sign of how much she wanted him.

  Angus resisted lowering his hand to cup her backside, something in him remembering they stood among thousands, including his son. His cock didn’t want to listen to caution, however, hardening in desire, the like of which he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

  Fine with him. The world had stopped, letting him deepen the kiss, no rush. Her skin was smooth, a joy to touch, a contrast to his bristles and roughness.

  Their lips and teeth bumped, the kiss a little clumsy, but for the first time in many years, Angus felt strain fall away and lightness take its place. Nothing mattered but Tamsin in his arms and her kiss, the touch of his son’s body against his calves telling him Ciaran was still with him, and safe.

  A human boy whooped. A woman yelled jovially, “Get a room!”

  The real world swirled back with all its colors and sounds, but somehow the harshness had gone, the colors had brightened, and the sounds had become music.

  Angus was still kissing Tamsin when Ciaran shouted to the crowd, “She said yes! She said yes!”

  More whoops, cheers, advice for Angus to run for it, for Tamsin to as well. Applause and laughter.

  Tamsin eased out of the kiss. She remained in Angus’s arms, her warmth threatening to break him, and brushed moisture from her lips with her fingertips. When Angus gazed down at her, never wanting to look away, she wrinkled her nose in good humor.

  A loudspeaker switched on, and Dante’s voice blared out. “We have a lost kid, folks. Look around for Natalie, wearing a red top and a black skirt. She’s nine and has brown hair in braids, brown eyes. Last seen over by the Amazing Louis show—he’s the guy with the three heads. If you find Natalie, please bring her to the office located on the west side of the park. Natalie, your mom says to come find her—she’s worried and she won’t be mad.”

  “Yes, she will,” Ciaran said as the loudspeaker switched off and everyone looked around to see if a girl with a red shirt was nearby. “My dad’s always seriously mad when he can’t find me. He yells as me when I get home.”

  “It’s what worried people do,” Tamsin said. “Come on. I can find her. Just need to talk to her mom first.”

  She picked up her hat and headed for the west side of the park at a run, Ciaran two steps behind her. Angus growled in his throat and took off after them.

  * * *

  • • •

  The mother wasn’t worried—she was panic-stricken.

  Tamsin found the office, a small trailer that belonged to the fairgrounds, which Dante had taken over for the carnival’s short stay.

  A sign proclaiming Lost and Found reposed over a table holding a jumble of items—plastic toys, dog leashes, cheap jewelry.

  Dante, in his colorful coat, tried to comfort Natalie’s mother and father, who were scared and trying not to show it. Natalie’s mother blinked back tears to thank a girl of about eleven who carried a cup of coffee to her.

  The girl who brought the coffee had honey-blond hair and the dark eyes and fine bones of Celene but the limberness of Dante. One-quarter Fae and one-half Shifter, Tamsin mused. That must make for an interesting combination. Bet she’s amazing.

  “What can I do for you?” Dante began as Tamsin strode in, but Tamsin ignored him and went straight to Natalie’s mother.

  “I’ll find her, don’t you worry,” Tamsin said, crouching down next to her. “Sit here and drink Dante’s coffee, and I’ll ha
ve Natalie back in a jiffy.”

  While Tamsin kept up her cheery chatter, she inhaled scents—soap, sweat, warm clothes, and terror. Somewhere in there would be Natalie, and Natalie would have her parents’ scents all over her as well.

  Tamsin turned away and headed out the door, nearly falling over Angus, who waited with Ciaran on the step outside.

  “Low profile,” he admonished her as they walked away.

  “I’ll be so low profile no one will even see me,” Tamsin said. “I can find Natalie. I’m good at scents. The less time her parents have to fret, the better. And if some sick bastard took her, I’ll know that too. And then you can kick his ass.” She grinned up at him. “See? We already make a great team. I just need somewhere private to shift.”

  “I want to go with you,” Ciaran announced.

  For once, Tamsin was the one who said no. “I’ll move too fast, and I won’t be able to wait for you. Why don’t you stay and get to know Dante’s daughter better? She’s cute.”

  Ciaran scowled. “I can keep up. Promise.”

  “We’ll both follow you,” Angus said firmly. “Natalie might be less scared if she sees a boy her own age.”

  “As if I can be scary,” Tamsin said loftily, but she acquiesced.

  The carnival was a different place once Tamsin was a fox and darting around the fringes of it. Scents came to her in layers upon layers—the fatty smell of hot dogs, the bite of mustard and relish, the sharp sweetness of cotton candy. Mud, spilled soda, candy wrappers brushed with melted chocolate, the dank odor from the porta-potties. Sweat, fear, excitement, frustration, anger, happiness, hope, desire.

  Every emotion had a scent, a body giving off more or less of it as people wound through the gamut of their feelings.

  Somewhere in this swirling wilderness of smells was one small child. Was the girl afraid and alone? Gleefully evading her parents? Or taken by someone and terrified?

  If she’d been taken, Tamsin wouldn’t stop until she tracked them down, and then she’d rip open whoever had nabbed the girl. She’d said she’d let Angus do that, but Tamsin knew that if she came across a child abductor, she wouldn’t be able to hold back.

  Angus walked nearby, though not too close to her, with Ciaran. Angus said he’d keep her in sight, and probably scent-sight too, as wolves were fantastic trackers, even in human form. Tamsin had deduced that about Angus the moment she’d laid eyes on him across the room in the plantation house while she’d won at poker.

  Angus had chased and caught her, and now Tamsin would be his mate. She called that expert tracking.

  Dante’s security was searching the grounds, but they hadn’t found anything so far. Tamsin shifted behind the porta-potties, alone, with Angus to stand watch, then slipped through brush, wandering around the edges of the fairgrounds. The brush had plenty of thorns that stuck in her fur. She resisted stopping to bite them out, but they drove her crazy.

  Dante seemed like a good guy, but Tamsin had seen his watchfulness. Was he a plant—a Collarless Shifter working for Shifter Bureau or Haider? She wouldn’t put it past them to recruit or coerce Shifters to assist them. Look what Haider had done to Angus.

  Dante didn’t smell duplicitous, but he might become very interested in Tamsin if he found out how unusual she was. He was an opportunist, she sensed, which would explain how he’d escaped detection all these years.

  A whiff of fear kicked her out of her contemplation, and Tamsin swerved to follow it.

  The trail led her out of the grounds and over a rise covered with dust and weeds. More stickers in her fur.

  Tamsin continued to scent fear, isolated from the smells of the fairgrounds, but she couldn’t find a source. She sat on her haunches on the rise, gazing back over the mass of tents and spinning rides, and at Angus and Ciaran, both in human form, skulking around in the weeds along the property’s boundaries.

  Her fur bristled as the scent burst to her, stronger than ever. Fear had turned to panic.

  Without a word, Tamsin turned and hurried along the small ridge, following it lengthwise. She’d thought it a raised bit of earth to mark the end of a farmer’s land, but she realized as she reached the end that it had another function.

  Tamsin nearly dropped off an abrupt ledge, unable to see where the rise ceased. She lowered herself to the ground and carefully peered over.

  A culvert opened beneath her, its round shape held in place by rusting corrugated metal. The bottom of the culvert held water, about an inch of it, smelling musty and stagnant. A large snake slid its way along it, heading for a child folded up inside. The child whimpered, too terrified to make another sound.

  If there was an animal Tamsin feared, it was snakes. Well, and gators. Larger Shifters could scoff about snakes, but a small animal could be killed by the bite of a rattler. Eaten too. Swallowed whole.

  Yuck. Stuff of nightmares.

  Tamsin didn’t have time to wait for Angus, who could kick the snake aside and barely notice. She darted forward, her heart pounding, praying her swiftness would be her best weapon.

  She splashed through water, and the girl’s head came up, her gasp echoing through the culvert. The snake didn’t care—it slithered on. Whether it thought the girl was food, it was just passing through, or it homed in on a warm heartbeat in the darkness, Tamsin couldn’t know.

  Didn’t matter now. Tamsin leapt, bounced off the sloping metal wall with all four paws, and landed on the snake’s back.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The snake whipped around, mouth open, striking, but Tamsin was no longer there. She jumped like a cat, straight up, then five feet backward, and scrambled away when she landed.

  The snake now homed in on her—maybe she was a tastier target in its little snaky opinion. It sped toward her, and Tamsin turned and ran like hell.

  She saw the pair of blue-jeaned legs at the end of the culvert too late to swerve. The owner of the legs roared, “Shit!” and Tamsin went right between them and out into the desert.

  She kept running, shivering, needing to flee.

  “Tamsin!”

  Only Angus’s full bellow could have stopped her. Tamsin turned, sides heaving, and looked back.

  He had the snake in his hand. The reptile dangled from Angus’s grasp, Angus clutching it by the head. The snake was still alive, wrapping its diamond-patterned, sinuous body around his arm.

  “There are probably more snakes out there.” Angus swept his free hand to indicate the direction she’d been running.

  Crap, crap, he was right. Tamsin now saw little holes in the dirt around her, perfect for gophers—or snakes.

  She spun on her back legs and charged toward the culvert. Angus, meanwhile, walked a long way out into the brush, where he, the traitor, let the snake go.

  Ciaran had crouched down to peer into the culvert. “Are you Natalie?” he asked in a calm voice. “I can take you to your mom and dad. They’re looking for you.”

  Natalie said something Tamsin couldn’t hear. Tamsin was too busy running in circles, trying to get over the creeps of her brief battle with the snake.

  As Angus walked to her, she shifted to human. “I hate snakes.” She kept spinning around, stamping her feet, then jumping when she came down on stickers. “Hate them, hate them. Wait—I hate gators too. Okay, I hate all reptiles.”

  Angus put his hands on her shoulders and stopped her spinning. Tamsin looked up at the widest smile she’d ever seen on him.

  She stopped, transfixed. Angus’s eyes were dancing, his teeth showing in his grin, and then he laughed.

  Tamsin stopped. She’d never heard him laugh before. The laughter came from deep inside him, rich and strong.

  Worth it, maybe, to go through that little bit of hell to see this?

  No. Nothing was worth snakes. “It isn’t funny, damn it.”

  “You are.” Angus dragged Tamsin into his arms,
lifting her from the sharp rocks and thorns of the desert floor. “My brave, bold mate. You found her, sweetheart. You found her.”

  Hanging in Angus’s arms, happy with her, was not a bad place to be. The warm friction of his clothes on her bare skin made her want to cling to him, maybe rub against him. Kissing him sounded like a good idea too.

  Angus’s eyes darkened, his skin flushing. His wanting came to her in waves, engulfing Tamsin and making her shivery with need. She knew in that moment she’d been yearning for Angus since she’d met him. She’d run from him, but she’d been watching him, following the lines of his body, doing anything to look into his eyes, his strong face, to feel his hands on her skin. She’d be lying to herself if she denied it.

  The sound of children’s voices drifted to them. Angus gave Tamsin a long look, then very carefully set her down.

  Tamsin gave him a brief kiss on the mouth and looked over his shoulder as Ciaran emerged from the culvert, leading young Natalie by the hand.

  Natalie stood close to Ciaran, giving him a look like she was Princess Buttercup and her Westley had just rescued her.

  She then gazed at Angus and Tamsin, who hid herself behind Angus’s broad body.

  “Ciaran, why is that lady naked?” she asked in a small voice.

  “None of us know,” Ciaran answered gravely.

  * * *

  • • •

  Natalie was restored to her family at the office, to everyone’s relief. Her parents gushed over the little girl, hugging and asking her what happened, asking Tamsin—dressed again—how they’d found her. Ciaran generously volunteered Tamsin’s part in the search, saying how good she was, but he of course didn’t mention Shifters or foxes.

  Natalie explained she’d been following a rabbit out into the field and then found herself lost. Hot, she’d gone inside the culvert to cool off. A snake had been crawling toward her, but a fox had attacked it, drawing it away, and then the fox had run off, and Ciaran had come to rescue her.

  Natalie’s mother listened to the explanation without much comprehension in her eyes, then she began to scold Natalie for not sticking close by, and then she began to cry, to Natalie’s bewilderment. Natalie’s dad ushered them out to take them home, Dante returning the entrance fee they’d paid.