Dark Wolf Page 3

  This one needed watching.

  ~~~~~~~

  She was so screwed.

  Her eyes hadn’t changed color since she’d made that disastrous mistake of thinking one of Jarle’s warriors was cute. Turned out the guy was a total jerk, but that was beside the point. The experience taught her something new about the magickal side of her soul, revealed one more clue about who she really was that she hadn’t know before. She prayed to God Callen hadn’t notice her eye color shift. If he did, she was going to have to explain herself and that wouldn’t be easy. Especially when she really didn’t have a full explanation herself. How did she tell a man she’d just met, that her eyes changed color when she got the hots for a guy? Callen would think her a nut. Love at first sight was a myth.

  Walking forward, she blew a stray strand of hair away from her forehead.

  It would be a miracle if she made it out of Wolfsden Keep alive. This MacHendrie dude was not the typical badass like the usual deviants Jarle counted among his associates. The slam of his cane against the floor actually made the marble tiles give out under her feet. And from what little she knew about magick, only the most powerful of souls could make the ground move.

  And talk about being hot. From his jet-black hair to his well-muscled physique, Callen MacHendrie was the sexiest man she’d ever met. Never mind the heat radiating from his touch—that was beyond swoon worthy. No amount of magickal warmth ever worked its supernatural little self from the top of her body all the way down to that sweet, vulnerable spot between her legs and stuck with her as if it had found its way into her with the sole intent of caressing her clit.

  She gently pressed her thighs together.

  Oh yeah, this MacHendrie dude was definitely not Jarle’s average enemy.

  The sudden urge to howl overwhelmed her.

  What the fuck?

  She swallowed and forced the animalistic desire to calm.

  Usually she wanted to run from her targets, get as far away from them as was possible, and not just because she didn’t want to get caught holding stolen goods, but the creeps Jarle sought revenge on were usually lower than low. Callen MacHendrie didn’t fit that trash. He also had the slightest, yet sexiest of brogues, and smelled delicious, the scent of bergamot tinged with a drop of sage exuded from his personal space.

  This was a man she wanted to run to, not from. Staying in his embrace until the tingling warmth of his touch filled her from head to toe was a definite possibility.

  She fanned her face. Jarle was so going to have her ass for this.

  A zap licked the small of her back.

  She froze.

  Cal’s hand pushed gently against her spine as he waited for her to cross the threshold at that storage room door. “After you.”

  God, but the feel of his palm against her back felt amazingly awesome. Like a thousand little pulses of heat caressing her muscles into the deepest state of relaxation. If the man was this good with just one touch, a full body massage from him probably felt like heaven.

  She stepped forward and entered the room. One glance around the place and her heart started doing a happy dance. She’d never seen so many swords and daggers. The weapons were piled everywhere—on the table, on the counters, stacked two rows deep against the far wall. And the pearls and rubies were just as plentiful, the abundance of jewels enough to fill the largest of pirates’ chests. Talk about an endless horde. A collection this magnificent didn’t come from some run of the mill dig. It was magickal. The glow emanating from each of its items, an aura that screamed each one had been touched by magick somewhere along its history, was quite evident to the supernatural eye. No wonder Jarle wanted her up here.

  “We’ll start with the jewelry,” Callen said. “Rhys and I filed everything according to stone and metal type but we didn’t go through it all with a fine-tooth comb. Some items might need to be better inspected. I’ve also found a few pieces stuck together that needed separating.” He pulled out a red padded chair and motioned for her to sit.

  The guy was a modern-day version of a chivalrous medieval knight. But the supernaturally charged gold flecks in his deep brown eyes, told her this MacHendrie dude was the real thing. Like in immortal. Supernatural.

  Goosebumps dotted her skin. She could only imagine what he must have lived through. If she could conjure up a perfect mate, it would be this Scot. Unfortunately, just in case she was wrong about her assessment of the man, she was keeping all thoughts of him to herself.

  Taking her seat, she dropped her tote to the floor.

  Callen placed a notebook and mechanical pencil in front of her on the table. “I like to do things old school first time around, with entries getting logged into the computer later.”

  Old school. Oh, yeah, he was definitely supernatural. But not in the vile, evil way like Jarle. And not in any witchy way either. Callen MacHendrie was another species all together. One she hadn’t come across before.

  She wondered what else he did differently than today’s average guy. He didn’t wear an earpiece, or even have a cell phone glued to his palm. In fact, she didn’t notice any bulges in his jeans save for the one in front and that had nothing to do a damn phone. Living in an ancient castle must have given him a different perspective on things. Made him take things a bit slower than most people did today. Maybe he took his time with everything he did and not just with his work concerning ancient artifacts.

  Spending a night with a man who wasn’t texting, checking the scoreboard, or engaging in one of those dumb multi-player games on his phone every five seconds, would be pure bliss.

  Visions of a four-poster draped in velvet curtains clouded her thoughts. And of course it wasn’t the image of an empty bed that had to fill her mind, but rather one that boasted a sprawled Callen MacHendrie, his well-muscled chest fully exposed, his lower body barely covered by a strategically placed silk sheet. A sheet she would have no problem getting under and....

  She moaned.

  “Miss Kendrick?”

  She was beyond humiliated. “Sorry. Something was stuck in my throat.” Did she really just say that? Oh. My. God. You are such a little ho, Miranda.

  A smirk crossed Callen’s lips.

  Lips that were made for kissing. Not too thin, not too plump. Manly lips that she had no doubt knew how to explore a woman’s body.

  That urge to howl returned.

  She pushed it back again. Maybe it had to do with all the wolf motifs at Wolfsden Keep, because she never craved doing such an animalistic thing in her life. Well…in the life that she could remember that is. And howling was definitely animalistic. So was dreaming of being in Cal MacHendrie’s bed.

  That smirk remained on his face. On odd feeling settled in her bones. Was it possible Callen knew what she was thinking? “Is something wrong, Mr. MacHendrie?”

  He lowered his gaze to the table. A curl of black hair fell across his brow. “I think we should concentrate on our work. Don’t you agree?”

  She was concentrating on her work. Callen MacHendrie was her assignment. Well, stealing from him was her exact job, but she couldn’t take something she hadn’t yet found. In the meantime, she needed to feel him out. “I’ll get started with the silver pieces.”

  “Good decision.”

  Callen pulled a plastic shoebox crammed with sealed plastic lunch bags containing individual pieces of jewelry. He slid the container her way. “Aside from item name and number that’s on the bag, I’d like as detailed a description as possible recorded in the notebook. It will make it easier to retrieve things later.”

  “Got it.” She reached for the first bag, snatching it from the box. A silver ring in the shape of a wolf’s head rested inside. “Are wolves significant to your family?”

  Callen looked up. “They’re part of the MacHendrie coat of arms.”

  “So that’s why they’re all over the place.”

  “Yes. The family has a long history of using the animal as their emblem.” He balanced the handle of his cane on the t
able and then turned around to grab a nearby chair. “Have you worked on other medieval collections?”

  “A few,” Miranda said. “But none this large. I’ve also never worked at an actual dig site. Everything I’ve done to date has been within the confines of museums or private collections.” She omitted the detail about her stealing said items.

  “Do you enjoy your work?”

  She couldn’t answer truthfully. She hated stealing from people, but Jarle would kill her if she didn’t do what he asked of her. “I do like Celtic artifacts. I find their designs beautiful.” At least that much was not a lie.

  “As do I,” Callen said. “In fact, I love everything about Wolfsden Keep and about my heritage. It is who I am.”

  If only she knew who she really was, maybe she could have a place to love, too.

  Rhys entered the room and brought tall glasses of iced tea garnished with fresh slices of lime, perched on a silver tray. “I thought refreshments might be needed.” As he set one drink in front of Miranda, he bumped Callen’s cane. The stick inched in her direction, came to a stop after it collided with the side of her pinky.

  “Would you care for a sandwich, Miss Kendrick?”

  “No thank you, Rhys. I ate before coming here.”

  The butler’s gaze shifted to Callen. “And for you, sir?”

  “I’m good for now.”

  “If either of you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ring.” Rhys retrieved a cream-colored envelope from the side of the tray and handed it to Cal. “This arrived in the post.”

  “Aw…fuck.”

  Miranda’s left eyebrow shot up.

  Callen blushed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. But I take it the letter isn’t?”

  Cal tossed the envelope onto the countertop behind him, unopened. “It’s an invite to a cousin’s wedding.”

  “Weddings are a lot of fun.”

  “Not for me and I have a huge family, so the blasted occasions come up often. I hate them. Never want to go to another in my life. In fact, when I marry I’m going to insist we elope.”

  Miranda frowned. “That’s not very romantic.”

  “I don’t need romance.”

  Rhys coughed, diverted Callen’s attention. “Would you like me to handle the reply, sir?”

  “No, I’ll write a note tonight and send it back in the morning.” He glared at the butler.

  Rhys gave a slight bow, then sauntered from the room.

  “Has Rhys been with you long?”

  “A few years. Why?”

  “He seems young for a butler. I’m guessing he’s about twenty-eight or so, like you.”

  Callen rubbed his chin, appeared to be pondering her comment. “You think I look twenty-eight?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer. “Rhys is more than a butler. He’s a dear friend. My father adopted him years ago. He’s also a bit…younger than me.”

  “Huh…I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “Looks can be deceiving, Miss Kendrick. But regardless, Rhys is a good man, and I’m glad to have him at Wolfsden.” Callen plucked the thin slice of lime off the glass of tea, removed its rind, and popped the rest into his mouth. He lowered his head and went back to sorting through the bags of artifacts.

  A low buzz echoed at Miranda’s ears. She scanned the area, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary coming from the bagged jewelry.

  Something nipped her finger.

  Her gaze flew to her hand, to the wolf-head topping Cal’s cane. The animal’s snarling mouth was biting down on her pinky.

  The image of an inscribed blade popped into her head.

  Jarle’s sword. The weapon must be encased inside the walking stick.

  She eyed Callen to make sure he wasn’t watching her, and much to her relief, he appeared quite focused on an emerald pendant hanging from a strand of pearls.

  She carefully nudged her foot toward the cane and dislodged the walking stick from the table.

  Callen glanced up, a confused look crossing his face.

  “Sorry.” Liar. She hoped he believed her feign of innocence. Reaching out, she grabbed the cane before it fell to the floor.

  A bolt of energy hammered her arm. Its bright white pulse entered her fingers and proceeded to shoot up to her shoulder.

  She gasped.

  Callen was on her in a flash. “Let go of the cane.”

  “Never.”

  “It will kill you.”

  “It’ll save me.”

  He grabbed for her hand.

  A second dose of electricity zapped her.

  She slid off the chair and landed on the tile floor, her blouse pulled to one side, its top buttons popped open, exposing her green lace bra to the world.

  Callen ended up on top of her, his stare level with her breasts.

  Chapter Three

  No one was going to steal his sword. Least of all a human who hadn’t a clue as to what powers the blade possessed. It was as cursed as was his leg. “I said, let it go.”

  Miranda shook her head. Her wavy, copper-colored hair shimmied around her face, framed her features with varying glints of red that lit up like sparks with each move.

  Between the fiery hair and the trace of fear veiling her eyes, Callen’s sexy thief reminded him of a spitfire. A bit too hot to handle on the outside, yet overly tame on the inside. Just the type of woman he’d want in his bed. A mate who was willing to embrace the wolf in his soul while surrendering to the man in his heart. Too bad she was gunning for his hexed blade.

  A low buzz emitted from the floor.

  “What is it with this place? Is Wolfsden on a fault line or something?”

  So she was aware of the castle being able to move at will. This cudna be good. He didn’t need a nosy mortal asking questions that were too personal to his pack’s survival. “Not that I am aware.”

  Miranda’s eyes went neon again.

  Now it was his turn to ask the question. “What are you?”

  “A woman. But I thought that was obvious with these.” She arched her breasts closer to his face.

  A verra bad move. He swallowed. The sound of his frantic heartbeat pulsed at his ears. He knew he should look away, but didn’t. “I was referring to your animal side.”

  “Are you for real? Do I look like an animal?” She squirmed under him. The third button on her blouse popped, revealed more of her ample breasts as they pushed through her shirt, her creamy flesh spilling out from under the bands of a lime green lace bra. He couldn’t help but stare. And his eyes weren’t the only part of him that wanted a piece of her, his hands were itching to cop a feel, and his cock…well…he wasn’t even going to think about what that part of him craved. But letting go of Miranda’s wrists—for any reason—was not a risk he was willing to take. Yet. “Humans canna change eye color at will.”

  “You think I’m doing that by choice?”

  She was aware of her abilities. The revelation piqued his interest in her even more. “You’re not human. At least not fully human.”

  Sheer terror filled her eyes. “You’re a frickin’ nut. You know that?”

  “I didna say it to frighten you.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  He doubted that. The scent of her panic enveloped their space like the stench of road tar on a hot summer day. In the wild, she’d have been tracked by even the least capable of shifters. “Relinquish my cane.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You must.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  He wondered what would have made her interested in a simple walking stick. To the average human, it had no value. “Why not?”

  “I’m being paid to steal it.”

  Miranda didn’t strike him as the sort of woman who resorted to thievery just for the fun of it. She probably needed the money and if so, that pained him. He didn’t like thinking she had to steal to make ends meet. “I’ll give you double the amount to let go.”

  “It’s more compl
icated than that. And I can’t discuss it. So, don’t even ask.”

  The woman could steal from him, but couldn’t tell him why. “That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

  “You have a room full of swords. Why not just let me have this one?”

  Her disclosure shocked him. Miss Kendrick knew the truth about his wolf-headed walking stick and that was not a good thing. “Who told you it’s a sword?”

  She swallowed. Then squirmed.

  He tightened his grip on her wrists.

  She released a deep breath.

  An intoxicating perfume filled the air. It smelled of orange, honeysuckle, a trace of clove…his mate’s scent.

  Well damn him to hell. Of all the females on the planet, his wumman had to be a thief.

  The revelation sacked him in the gut.

  He had to have been verra sinful in another life to deserve this.

  His thoughts propelled back a thousand years.

  “Smell the air, Callen,” his grandmother said. “The scent of your mate is unique. No other soul will give off the same smell and no other wolf will be able to detect it in the same way. The scent is specific between you and her. Even if she is not wolf.”

  He closed his eyes. The aroma of a fresh cut orange teased his nose. So did the scent of honeysuckle and a pinch of clove.

  Miranda wriggled beneath him, the movements of her body sending his wolf’s desire for her, skyrocketing.

  His thoughts came hurling back to the present.

  Crap. He didna need this now. The Wolfsden pack would never accept a thief as their future Alpha’s mate. As his mate.

  “Get off me,” Miranda said.

  He stared her in the eyes.

  She stilled. A soft moan escaped her luscious lips.

  He leaned forward, sniffed her neck, brought his tongue to her flesh and licked her skin.

  Miranda sighed.

  Callen leaned closer. He trailed his lips up to her ear, nibbled on her lobe.

  “Oh…”

  He went in for the kill. An all-out kiss that filled his mouth with the unique taste of a sugary sweet nectar that was exclusive to Miss Miranda Kendrick. He sucked hard on her skin.