why, we'll find our killer.'
Duncan glanced down at his drink for a moment.
'What do you know about a wolf named Betise?' His father's lip curled. 'She's a dance addict and has been well-used over the years. I've never danced with her, but I believe Rene and Kane both have. And you.' Zeke hesitated, dark eyes glinting with sudden amusement. 'But then, you did have a reputation to live up to.' He grimaced. There was no use regretting his past, and there was certainly nothing he could do to change it. 'She was claiming tonight that we were an item for nearly a year.'
Zeke snorted. 'Even at your drunkest, you had more sense than that.'
'That's what I figured.' He took a drink then said, 'She was attacked tonight.'
'By the murderer?'
'I don't know. She claimed it was a big silver wolf, and the bite marks on her arms certainly attest to the fact it was a big wolf.'
'But you don't believe her?'
'I don't disbelieve her, either. She was attacked.'
'But?'
'But if it was the murderer, then he's breaking set patterns. It happened in the pavilion not near the gates.
She was waiting for another dancer, not leaving the mansion. And there were no signs of bites on her breasts or neck. She had scratches on her face, and there were bites on her arms, but neither were very deep. I doubt they'll even scar.'
Zeke's expression was thoughtful. 'It is always possible the murderer has changed his pattern. There are no set rules governing that sort of thing, you know.'
'I know. But he's been so careful up to this moment, so why would he risk attacking a wolf who was obviously waiting for someone? It just doesn't ring true.'
'Maybe he thought he had no other chance.'
'Maybe.' He picked up the bottle and half filled his glass. 'I asked Martin to take some saliva and skin samples from her. I thought I could use Dave's contacts to get them tested.'
'I'll get them tested. It'll be quicker and easier.' Duncan nodded. The sooner they knew whether Betise's attack was linked to the murderer, the better.
'What do you think about Levon Grant?'
Zeke snorted. 'Why would I even bother thinking about him?'
'Betise told me tonight that he'd been questioning her about the mansion and the dancers. From what she said, it happened just before the first attack.' His father frowned. 'Levon's many things, but I believe he understands the necessity of the dance.'
'Neva's his daughter.'
'Then he surely doesn't know she's here, because if he did, he'd be here dragging her away by the scruff of the neck. He's not that understanding. '
Which is exactly what Duncan had thought. Yet the itchy feeling that Neva was up to something still remained. And if she was here at her father's request, she wasn't going to admit it. He could force the information out of her, of course. But to do so would tell her he was on to her, and if she ran, he doubted it would be back to the person behind her presence here.
He downed the rest of his drink and felt the liquid burn all the way down to his gut. It only fueled the fire already burning in his veins. 'Even so, I think it's worth digging around for information on Levon.
Maybe his turn- the-other-cheek attitude is little more than a front.'
'Maybe.' Zeke's expression was doubtful. 'What are you going to do about Neva?'
'Keep pushing her. I'm sure she's here for a reason, and I'm just as sure she'll run very soon.'
'Might be worth doing a check on her, as well. Maybe she's got a sibling who was slighted by you or your brothers.'
'I doubt she'd dance with me just to get a little revenge.'
'You don't know her well enough to guess what she's capable of.'
A truth he knew he would probably regret for the rest of his life. He put his empty glass on the bar. 'I'm also going to run a check on the murder ed women. See if there was any other link between them other than the mansion.'
'I imagine the rangers would have already done that.' Duncan's smile was grim. 'They have to stick within the boundaries of the law to find their information. I don't.'
'True.'
He glanced at the clock. 'Time to go do a little more pushing. If I find anything, I'll let you know.' He spun and walked out. His rooms were in the far wing and a long way away fr om the main halls and the dancers. As much as he'd enjoyed the dance over the years, he enjoyed his solitude more. Always had.
He wound his way through the dark hallways. He couldn't smell anyone in the rooms he passed, but he wasn't surprised. This wing was part of the old section and hadn't yet been fitted with central heating. He doubted it ever would be. As big as the pack was, the mansion was bigger--a rambling network of rooms and halls that had once been filled to the brim with laughing cubs, but never would be again. Not these days. All the packs had to be watchful about birth control. Human law forbade any pack growing beyond a certain size. Werewolves and shapeshifters may have finally been acknowledged in the eyes of the law, but lawmakers the world over still feared the consequences of allowing them to breed unchecked. As if they could ever compete with human birth rates, he thought sourly.
In the silence of the long halls, the wind seemed to howl, battering at the roof and windows. In the chill sharpness of the air he could smell snow. A Ripple Creek Special was definitely headed their way. He walked into his suite. The air here was almost icy, thanks in part to the row of French door s lining the outer wall. He closed the drapes then walked over to the fireplace and stoked the fire to life. If it was this cold now, they'd certainly need its warmth by dawn.
When the fire blazed, he headed into the bedroom. Neva was sound asleep in his bed, and he stopped, caught by the sheer beauty of her. Her long hair was a river of gold that swept across her pillow. And in sleep, she looked so angelic, so innocent, it was hard to believe she could be anything else.
But the fact was, she could be. She was her e for a reason, and until he discovered that reason, he had no choice but to keep on pushing her.
And it was certainly a task part of him did enjoy. Maybe he was more like Rene than he cared to admit.
He stripped and climbed into bed. She stirred, murmuring something he couldn't quite catch before turning away from him. He spooned behind her, pressing himself against the warmth of her skin and the richness of her scent. Her very closeness had the heat surging through his veins, and he wanted her so badly it was painful. Their lovemaking tonight would be hard and fast. It couldn't be anything else when the fever burned so fiercely through his veins, and it was what he needed to do to keep on pushing her.
He slid a hand down her belly to the triangle of hair between her thighs. She was still so gloriously wet with need, even though a couple of hours had slipped by since he'd touched her. She shifted under his caress, pressing back against him. It was a sleepy invitation he was more than ready to accept. He slid deep inside her, groaning at the sheer glory of it. She felt so good, so hot and firm. She woke. Though she didn't move, a sound that was part pleasure, part surprise, and part anger whispered from her lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her still as he continued to thrust inside her. With the urgency of the moon driving him so hard, there was nothing gentle about it now. He claimed every inch of her, delving so deep, her taut muscles quivered against the entire length of him.
The red tide rose, becoming a wall of pleasure he could not deny. He came, a hot, torrential release whose force tore a shout from his lips and sent his body rigid. But the moon and he weren't finished yet.
Not by a long shot. He withdrew and tugged her around to face him. Her eyes flashed with anger, but before she could say anything, he claimed her lips. He kissed her, caressed her, licked every inch of her, until her scent and her taste were imprinted on every fiber of his being, inside and out. Then he loved her.
And continued to make love to her through the rest of the night and well into dawn.
A constant rattling woke Neva many hours later. She groaned and flung the thick comforter off her face,
