sort of smile. 'What does it matter?' He kissed her nose, then began undoing her jeans. ' Tell me.'
She yawned, then said, 'Betise's hair salon. Had to ask her some questions, remember?'
He'd forgotten he'd asked her to do that. 'I didn't order you to go out in the middle of a snowstorm.' He hooked his thumbs around the waist of her jeans and panties and pushed them down. She stepped free then flopped back onto the bed, arms and legs akimbo. 'Come here,' she said, patting the bed beside her. He again resisted the desire to do just that. 'Roll over onto your left side.'
She raised her eyebrows and did as he asked. 'Planning a little side-on adventure, are we?'
'Maybe.' A doozey of a bruise was beginning to appear on her rump, but there were no skin lacerations, and she seemed to be moving her legs without flinching. He carefully checked the rest of her, but could find no other signs of injury. 'Did you drink anything at Betise's?' She sighed. 'I don't want to talk about her.'
'Neither do I, believe me. Did you drink anything?'
'Coffee.' She reached up, grabbed his shirt and dragged him close, green eyes dancing with devilment as they searched his. 'Kiss me.'
'Love to.' And he did. Long and slowly. Tasted her, savored her, until he knew every inch of her mouth as intimately as he knew the rest of her. When he finally broke away, his breathing was harsh, and the desire to take what she was so freely offering pounded through his veins.
'How much coffee?' he asked hoarsely.
She gave him a vixen smile and trailed her fingers down his chest. 'Not even half a cup.'
If Betise had put something in the coffee, at least Neva hadn't taken all of it. She was probably safe from an overdose, though he'd certainly have to keep an eye on her for the next couple of hours. He flipped back the bed covers. 'Climb in. I'll make you some hot chocolate.'
'I don't want some hot chocolate.'
She brushed her fingers up and down the front of his jeans, teasing, but not quite touching his erection, which seemed to press even more painfully against the restriction of the denim. A shudder ran through him. Right then, he didn't want any hot chocolate, either. He patted the pillow. She sighed and climbed rather gracelessly under the covers.
'Care to join me?'
'Yes. But later.' He tucked the blankets around her. 'Did Betise say anything of interest?'
The amusement fled her face, and her eyes searched his. 'She told me you were soul mates. She told me you refused to acknowledge it.'
Anger flashed through him, war m and bright. The woman was more delusional than he'd thought. He knelt down beside Neva and touched a hand to her cheek. 'Betise is not my soul mate. We shared one dance, nothing more.' He paused, staring into Neva's beautiful eyes, trying to make her believe him.
Trying to make her see. 'I have no fear of acknowledging my soul mate.'
Tears touched the green depths, but she blinked them away. 'Then why--'
He put a finger against her lips. 'I don't know why. And right now, I don't care.' He hesitated. 'What else did she say?'
'She lied about my dad.'
That he'd discovered for himself. 'And?'
'She gave me a brief description of the man who attacked her. It's no more than what we already know.'
No surprise there. He very much suspected Betise hadn't actually been attacked, but rather had been playing a game in wolf form that got a little too rough for her liking. Why else would she refuse to give them a proper description? She must have seen her attacker--she had scratches on her face. Scratches that had come from either fingernails or claws, not teeth, like the other victims. 'Nothing else?'
She shook her head and yawned yet again. 'I'll get the chocolate. You stay here.' Her sigh followed him down the stairs. By the time he'd made them both some hot chocolate and carried the mugs back up the stairs, she was asleep. He stopped in the middle of the room, his gaze on her face, and his heart doing weird things in his chest. He finally acknowledged what he'd known the minute her pain had echoed through him and she'd begun siphoning his strength. This was more than just the power of the moon and the need for the dance. Far more.
He placed both mugs on the bedside table closest to her, then tossed teddy bears off the nearby chair and dragged it closer. Propping his feet on the bed, he picked up a mug and sipped at the drink slowly as he let his gaze rest on her serene and beautiful features. He hadn't lied to her. He had no fear of acknowledging his soul mate.
What he feared more than anything else in the world was that she would refuse to acknowledge him.
Chapter Eleven
There was a madman in her head. A madman with a big hammer, continually bashing away at her skull.
Neva groaned softly and rolled onto her back. Pain flared in the region of her rump and curled up her side. The truck, she thought. Then she felt the caress of cotton sheets against her skin and realized she was no longer lying in the snow but in bed. Her bed, if the tang of citrus in the air was anything to go by.
She opened her eyes and looked toward the window. It was dark outside, and the storm no longer raged.
Snow continued to drift past the glass, the flakes briefly glistening silver as the lamp near the window caught them with its light. She reached out for her watch, wincing slightly as her side protested the movement. It was six o'clock. Four hours had slipped by. Four hours she couldn't remember.
Frowning slightly, she eased upright. Duncan had been in her room, but not in her bed. The air carried his warm, woody scent, but it didn't linger on the sheets. Two cups sat on the bedside table. She picked one up, sniffing it lightly. Chocolate. She certainly couldn't remember drinking it.
Her last memory was of the blue truck swiping her and sending her sprawling. She frowned, trying to reach past the haze in her mind, sure something important had happened between that point and now.
Vague memories of being stripped rolled through the fog in her mind, followed by the flush of remembered passion. Yet, they hadn't danced. Of that she was certain.
Neva? Her sister's voice winged into her mind, warm but concerned. You okay?
I think so. She climbed out of bed and realized she was completely naked when the warm air caressed her skin as gently as a lover's sigh. She grabbed her robe and quickly put it on.
What happened last night? I tried contacting you, but you were off on another planet.
I'm not sure what happened. I got swiped by a truck coming home from Betise's and can't remember much after that. She hesitated at the top of the stairs. Though the hall was dark, light peeked out from under the kitchen door. If the delicious aroma beginning to drift upwards was anything to go by, Duncan was cooking dinner. Savannah's sharp gasp echoed down the mental lines between them, and Neva winced.
Are you okay? Why aren't you in the hospital? It barely touched me, and I didn't want to go to the emergency room. Not that she could actually remember saying that. Have you arranged twenty-four seven protection, like I asked?
Yes. And we pulled several hairs off that doctor's coat you found in the trash can. They match the hair we found at two of the murder scenes.
Black hair?
Black hair, Savannah confirmed softly.
Neva sighed. No wonder her sister was so convinced it was a Sinclair -- they might not be able to lay sole claim to the silver coat, but they were the only pack in Ripple Creek with black hair. And while there were quite a few humans living here who also had black hair , none of them would get anywhere near the mansion during the phase of the full moon let alone be able to overpower a wolf. Then the murderer was definitely coming after you. Maybe you were closer to something than you'd thought. Maybe.
Savannah's doubt echoed down the line between them. Tell me about the truck that hit you. I'll have
