Kate Douglas

Wolf Tales V


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and squeezed. When he finally set the cup down a minute later, his heart pounded in his chest and he was almost certain he heard a ringing in his ears.

      The waitress came back, pad and pencil in hand. She glanced at the open newspaper and snorted. “Ugly sucker, isn’t she? Folks think it’s all made up, but she’s real, poor thing. Lives just an hour northeast of here, up in a little town in the mountains.”

      Bay schooled his features into a look of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? That looks like something someone did on their computer. You know, mixed a picture of a wolf and a really ugly woman…?”

      The waitress shook her head. “My cousin Harry owns a little grocery up in the Adirondacks. He delivers an order twice a week to a recluse. She never comes out, but her orders are for almost nothing but meat. Lots of red meat. He leaves the box of groceries by the door, takes his money from under the doormat and leaves. She never lets him come inside to deliver it proper. He said he caught a glimpse of her through the blinds one time and just about screamed like a schoolgirl, she scared him that bad.”

      Bay shook his head. “Poor thing. Can you imagine being that deformed? Trying to live in a society that reveres beauty?”

      The waitress nodded and shook her long red hair back over her shoulder in an obviously flirtatious manner. “Nope. Can’t imagine it.” She smiled brightly with a lot more than mere interest in his order. “Anything I can get for you?”

      That certainly sounded like a loaded question.

      Bay pointed at the special typed at the top of the page. Three eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, bacon, and biscuits. Thank goodness cholesterol didn’t appear to be a problem for Chanku.

      “Another buck and you can get a slab of fried steak with that. A man your size must need to eat a lot to keep up his strength…” She smiled as her comment trailed off.

      Bay smiled back at her and winked. “Sounds good. I appreciate the suggestion. Thank you. I like mine rare.”

      He watched her walk away and almost laughed at the pronounced sway to her ass. Jake was right, though. Flirt a little, learn a lot. When she brought his breakfast a few minutes later, Bay got the name of the town where Cousin Harry owned the local grocery.

      Ulrich looked at the card Anton had given him, then at the map he’d spread out across the steering wheel. The past few days felt like a prolonged drug trip…the downed plane and Keisha’s birth of a perfect little baby girl, Tia and Luc’s wedding, Xandi’s precipitous labor and delivery of a very tiny but healthy baby boy, Baylor heading off in search of the mysterious wolf woman, and now this.

      How the hell he’d let Anton talk him into hunting down a woman who might be Chanku was beyond him. Actually, Ulrich wondered if Camille’s spirit had a hand in the process. He hadn’t thought of that sexual encounter with the other couple for years, but remembering how Camille had loved being with another woman had finally convinced him to look for this Millie West and see if she really was Chanku.

      He was tired. Damn it all, at sixty-four he was ready to think about rocking chairs and puttering in the garden, not hunting down a sexy woman who might just be a shapeshifter.

      So why did his cock suddenly swell and his heart begin to race when he thought of the slim blonde? The photo Anton had given him felt seared into his brain, the woman’s image a polar opposite to his one, true love, Camille, but fascinating just the same.

      Ulrich ignored his body and concentrated on the directions, found the High Mountain wolf sanctuary marked in pen and folded up the map. He had to stop obsessing over his concerns, quit projecting a future that existed purely in his imagination. He’d go and check out the woman, see if she was the real thing, and then he’d figure out what to do.

      It took him another twenty minutes to find the right road, ten more minutes to make it to the sanctuary, and at least two seconds to fall in lust.

      The minute Ulrich stepped through the door into the sanctuary office, the woman from the photograph lifted her head from whatever had held her attention and smiled at him. Her scent was pure wolf. Powerful, an aphrodisiac all on its own. It took Ulrich a moment to get his bearings, to catch his breath and rediscover the ability to form a complete sentence.

      He cleared his throat, giving himself more time. “I’m looking for Millie West.”

      Her smile widened. White teeth, perfect cheekbones, long blond hair streaked with gray…and amber eyes. He felt her smile all the way to his balls.

      “I’m Millie. Can I help you?”

      Oh shit. Could she ever. He held out his hand and noticed it was shaking. Concentrated on holding it steady. “I’m Ulrich Mason. Anton Cheval asked me to stop in and see how things were going since the new board of directors took over. He wanted to make sure you had everything you need.”

      Millie stood up. She was taller than Camille, even taller than he’d imagined from her photo. Ulrich guessed Millie stood about five seven, with a slim, athletic build, but part of her height could have come from the well-worn roper style cowboy boots on her feet. Her faded blue jeans fit her like a second skin and she wore a pale yellow cotton blouse with long sleeves rolled back above her wrists.

      She held out her hand and Ulrich wrapped his fingers around hers. The scent of her body reached out to him, subtle yet demanding. The moment they touched, he felt the connection race along his arm, a sense of destiny no doubt only he experienced.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, releasing his hand and smiling naturally, as if her touch hadn’t just rocked his world. “Mr. Cheval called yesterday and said to expect you. I’ve got the books ready. We can tour the compound either before or after you look at the records.”

      “I drove all the way out here from San Francisco. I think I’ve been sitting long enough.” Ulrich laughed, a low chuckle meant to put her at ease. “If you have a moment, can we walk through the compound first? I’d love to see, firsthand, how you have everything set up.”

      “Of course.” She walked to the door and opened it, looked out and called to a young man working nearby. “Seth, I have to be out of the office for a bit. Can you keep an eye on things, answer the phone if anyone calls?”

      “Yes, Ms. West.” The kid sort of slouched into the office, but he nodded politely to Ulrich and went straight to a pile of papers where he started sorting and filing. Millie watched him a moment, then led Ulrich outside.

      “Seth has just gotten off probation after the problems here with Tinker McClintock and Lisa Quinn. You’ve heard about that?”

      Ulrich nodded. So that was the young man who’d almost gotten Luc and Tia killed. He felt the hackles rise along the back of his neck and quickly suppressed the urge to attack. Okay, so the kid had thought he was saving wolves, not sending them to be slaughtered by wealthy hunters, but that didn’t excuse him. Obviously, Millie had been able to forgive.

      Ulrich wondered if he had that in him, that ability to forgive. As angry as he felt toward Seth, a young man he’d never met before today, Ulrich doubted forgiveness was one of his virtues. Probably another sign he was getting old and crotchety. Damn it all, where had the years gone?

      Putting Seth out of his mind, Ulrich followed Millie, walking just far enough behind her to enjoy the gentle sway of her slim hips as she headed across the parking lot toward a shaded area of holding pens.

      If anyone had asked him, later, what he’d gleaned from the tour of the compound, Ulrich would most likely have drawn a blank. Not because he wasn’t paying attention…no, it was more than that. So much more.

      His senses were fully engaged. He smelled the pines and the cedar and the sun-heated granite, the musky scent of wolves and the acrid odor of unwashed bodies as he passed the workmen cleaning pens and caring for the wolves.

      There was the soft sweep of wind in the trees, the harsh call of a jay, the musical trill of a small stream bordering their trail, and about it all the scent of wild wolves, the echoes of their