up at Ulrich. He saw questions in her amber eyes. Even more, he saw her need, felt her powerful desire for his touch. He inhaled and scented the sweet perfume of her arousal.
Silently placing his heart in Millie West’s hands, Ulrich leaned across the small oak table and softly pressed his lips against hers. Her quick, indrawn breath told him she’d not expected this, but her lips softened, parted. He felt her sigh against his mouth.
He pulled away and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. She blushed and looked down at their hands. “You have no idea what you’re asking,” she said.
“Ah, I believe I do.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and forced her to look at him. “You’re a beautiful woman, Millie West. You’re funny and smart and very sexy, and your heart is good.”
She shook her head. “How can you say that? You hardly know me.”
Ulrich raked his thumb along her cheekbone. “I know you’ve cared for the wolves as if they were your children. You’ve given Seth an extra chance at redemption when most people, including me, would turn him away. The sanctuary is well run, the animals healthy and content, your employees look at you as if you hold the sun and the moon in your hands and you’ve done all of this in just a matter of weeks since the problems with the last manager. What more do I need to know?”
She turned away. Her cheek still rested against the curve of his palm. Ulrich felt her sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Finally she backed away, far enough to put herself out of his grasp, and looked him straight in the eye. “You need to know that I’m a freak, Ulrich Mason. I’m fifty-six years old and I’ve not been with a man for over thirty-six years.” She stood up and pushed the chair back, then turned around and wrapped her arms around her slim waist. “I’m not normal, Ulrich. There’s something about me that’s so strange, I’ll never have a normal relationship, never be able to…”
He circled the table and caught her up in his arms. She fought him at first, but he felt her embarrassment and knew her heart wasn’t in the struggle. Her resistance ended on a sigh as she pressed her face against his chest, body trembling, breath catching in her throat. He felt her shoulders shake and knew she cried softly, silently, in his arms.
He held her close, rubbed her back slowly and smiled into her blond hair while she quietly brought her emotions back under control.
Standing there, with Millie pressed close against him, Ulrich felt the lust that had been burning in him all morning long suddenly shift and subside. His heart seemed to swell in his chest, his eyes blurred with tears. Somehow, over the course of the past few hours, pieces of his life that had long been sundered appeared to have found their way back to form a tenuous whole.
Unbelievable, he thought, rubbing his lips softly against Millie’s thick crown of hair. After so many years as the pack’s lone wolf, Ulrich Mason knew he’d suddenly, irrevocably, fallen in love.
Chapter 3
Baylor stood to one side in the small landing at the top of the stairs and watched as Harry Trenton carefully folded the crisp hundred dollar bill he’d just taken from Bay’s hand. Harry had the good grace to look moderately guilty, but he lifted the door mat and drew a check and a five dollar bill from beneath it, then knocked on the door.
It didn’t open, of course. Bay hadn’t expected it to. He heard someone on the other side, a soft voice, low-pitched and slightly rough. “Thanks, Harry. I’ll call next week when I need a new order.”
“Sure I can’t bring the stuff inside for you, Ma’am? The box is heavy.”
“I’m sure. Thank you. Your check and tip are under the mat.”
“Got ’em.” Harry slanted a suspicious look at Bay and then turned and walked down the stairs to the ancient Ford pickup parked in the street.
He didn’t look back, though he did pause for a moment on the bottom step, as if reconsidering his actions. Baylor held his breath. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation here, so close to his target.
Harry continued on across the cracked sidewalk and climbed into his truck. The engine growled, the truck rattled in place, backfired twice and then slowly headed down the narrow street.
Baylor stayed in the shadows and waited. She was in there. He’d heard her voice, rough and scratchy as if from lack of use. Her scent lingered, rich and inviting, an alluring temptation calling him close, but he knew better than to rush anything. He knew she stood just on the other side of the door. He heard a soft shuffle as she moved, the creak of floorboards, then finally, a good ten minutes or more after Harry had gone, the sharp click as a lock was turned, a handle moved.
The door lacked a traditional doorknob, but the accessible lever designed for those with physical handicaps slowly tilted downward. Bay pressed his back to the wall beside the door, saw the shadow of hands reaching for the box of groceries, then the fur-covered fingers themselves, tipped with dark claws that dug into the cardboard and dragged it slowly across the threshold.
Once the box was fully inside, Bay whirled around, stepped across the threshold through the open door and shut it behind him. The small, twisted figure crouched over the box, amber eyes wide, stringy blond hair hanging loose and lank, too frightened to scream—a creature out of his worst nightmares.
The photo in the paper had been kind.
She didn’t even try to run. Instead, she collapsed and folded in upon herself, rolled into a small, cotton-shrouded, fur-covered ball, and whimpered like a lost pup.
He’d not thought beyond getting through the door. Had no idea what he would say or do once he finally found her, but the last thing Bay had expected was the heart-rending sound of such abject grief.
She was hardly bigger than a child and her tragic cries devastated him. He did the only thing he could. He leaned over and picked her up, cradled her unresponsive body in his arms and walked across the small living room to a big, overstuffed couch. Then he sat down with her in his lap, held her close against his chest and stroked her long, straggly blond hair.
She didn’t try to pull away, though he felt her trembling and sensed her fear. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you. I promise.”
She wore some kind of gray, shapeless smock that covered her body with long sleeves and a full skirt. He felt an awkward lump in his lap and knew it must be a tail, or at least part of one. She’d apparently started to shift and been unable to complete the process, leaving her body an awkward, obviously painful combination of human and wolf.
There wasn’t anything remotely attractive about her. Thick wrists, rudimentary thumbs, long, sharp nails. Her face was buried against his chest, but she had more muzzle than mouth. Her ears were stuck midway between where a human’s would be and the upright position of a wolf’s, with tiny tufts of fur covering them.
He wondered how long she’d been caught like this, who had cared for her to allow her to survive, and most of all, if she was just too frightened to speak. He hated thinking he was causing her so much distress. He tried mindtalking but there was a wall as high and thick as any he’d encountered. She might not be fully Chanku, but the woman—or girl—managed to block.
For all he knew, she could be a child, but he hoped not. He’d been hard as a post from the first whiff of her scent, the purely feminine Chanku musk that had attracted him from the moment he’d entered the room. Richer even
