wiggled her toes through the tear in the pink tulle. “Always thank the handsome stranger who rescues you from the idiocy of yourself.” And from a strange creature she thought might have been trying to eat her. “Did I thank him? I don’t think I did. Ryland James? And he never did answer my question.”
She had seen things while shivering in the alley last night. More than a few weird things. And he had most definitely changed into...something different. It hadn’t been the alcohol. Couldn’t have been.
“Who are you kidding, Indi? Of course it was the champagne. People don’t change shapes.”
She touched her chest where she had rubbed over a cut earlier this morning at her rescuer’s place. Her skin felt smooth now.
Indi stood and studied her collarbone in the mirror. The skin did not show a cut or mark of any kind. And if she had been hurt, shouldn’t there be, at the very least, a faint or red mark?
Was it possible she’d imagined it all?
“Anything is possible,” she said to the tawdry princess in the mirror.
He’d called her Princess Pussycat. And his eyes had smiled before his mouth had.
Indi smiled. A weak, pitiful and bedraggled smile, but it was the best she could manage. It would be a crime not to see that man again. And she really did need to thank him. At least some man had been concerned about her last night.
More important, she wanted to ask him questions. To make sure she wasn’t going crazy and hadn’t started to imagine strange creatures walking the streets of Paris.
“Tomorrow,” she said to the disaster in the mirror. “Now a shower, and a bath, and maybe another shower after that.”
The next day
“The proposal is very well done.” Ry laid the file folder on Kristine’s desk. He’d been in the office all day making phone calls and was ready to kick back with a beer and some sports TV.
“The Severo Foundation is amazing.” Kristine brought up the website on her laptop. “Started by Stephan Severo decades ago to buy up forested land in Minnesota to protect the natural wolf population.”
“And I do appreciate that it’s also helping the Save the Wolf Foundation. His son wants to take the project international.”
“Yes. Pilot Severo continued to support the project after his father died,” Kristine said. “I dug a little deeper with my research. Most isn’t in the proposal. Pilot is not werewolf. His mother, Belladonna Severo, is a vampire and his father was werewolf. Pilot was born straight human. I kind of relate to him.” Kristine tapped her highly lacquered red lips in thought. “He was born into a body that was so different from what others must have expected of him. And can you imagine the parents’ disappointment when their son was not a werewolf or vampire, but rather merely human?”
“I can,” Ry said.
His thoughts flickered back to that day he’d first discovered he was different. Not quite the werewolf he’d always believed he was. And then his mother had confirmed it, and his entire world had been tipped off its axis. The time had been seventeen minutes and twenty-one seconds past three in the afternoon. Not a good time. Not something a seventeen-year-old man should have to experience.
“Get me a phone meeting set up with Pilot Severo,” he said. “I want to send him funds and would also like to be a part of the international project, if possible.”
“Perfect.” Kristine typed as they conversed. Multitasking, as usual. Something Ry appreciated but could never manage himself. “It’s morning in the States. I’ll give them a ring in another hour.”
“You don’t have to stay late, Kristine.”
“You know I don’t mind. And I want to finalize the donations for the upcoming charity ball. You know the full moon is this weekend? You heading out to your castle?”
“I, uh...” Ry winced as he considered that this full moon would be different from the previous one. He had a new commitment that wouldn’t allow him to leave the city. To escape from the possibility of being seen in his shifted form. “I don’t think I can.”
“You can’t stay in the city. Not unless you hook up with that new girl fast. And by fast I mean in the three days before the weekend. Don’t you need to have sex before the full moon to keep the werewolf at bay? You up for that challenge?”
“Always.” He cast her a charming smirk. “But I don’t think I’ll see her again. She ran out on me so quickly. I do have some solutions available.”
“Uh-huh. But even if you do find a woman to have sex with the day before and after the full moon, there’s still the night of the full one, mon cher. Don’t you need to wolf out no matter what?”
“That I do.”
“Maybe FaeryTown can go one night without you.”
“If I miss one night of patrol, then a baby could be stolen from his or her crib, never to be seen again. Do you think that’s fair for me to put my needs before one so innocent?”
“But you’ll wolf out during the full moon. In Paris.”
“That’s something I’m going to have to deal with. I don’t see any other option, Kristine. Text me the appointment after you’ve talked with Severo. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
He left the office in the wake of an unenthusiastic “sure” from his secretary. He knew she was right. She knew she was right. A werewolf shouldn’t risk staying in a populated city on the night he was called by the moon to shift to his half-man/half-wolf shape. And while he wasn’t a wild and crazy beast intent on destroying or maiming humans in that shape, he didn’t need to be seen loping about the Parisian streets with tail wagging and tongue lolling. That was inviting trouble for him and every other werewolf who needed to remain a myth to all humans.
Yet if he went to his private property in the countryside, as he did every night of the full moon, then FaeryTown would be left unguarded for the collectors to come through.
As he strode down the sidewalk and angled for his parked Alfa Romeo, Ry wished the choice was easier. But then, nothing good ever came easily.
* * *
Indi slept until three o’clock the next afternoon. She decided to mark it off as the worst night of her life. Getting dumped, being chased by a creature and then being sort-of kidnapped by a man she didn’t know.
But it was the memory of that mystery man that compelled her this afternoon. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, then dousing it with creamer, she curled up on the couch, wrapped a light summer blanket about her bare shoulders and pulled the laptop up to browse online.
“Ryland James,” she said as she typed in his name.
Not expecting to find anything more than a Facebook page, she was surprised when the first page of Google spilled down a whole list of hits. And the image bar featured some paparazzi shots of the man wearing
