Carolina Wolf Page 4

  True to her word, Debra had made coffee and was busy setting out butter and jam for the toast. She took one look at him and burst out laughing.

  “What?” He looked down. He’d pulled the shirt on as he was leaving the bedroom and hadn’t paid attention to the front of it. Now, he wished he had.

  “Nothing,” she said, still snickering as she poured coffee into two sturdy mugs.

  There was a mirror in the hall and he turned to check. He’d grown boobs. Not him, personally, but the sketch on the shirt was an outline of two pendulous nude breasts resting on top of an open book. The tagline said, Read Naked.

  “You’re getting me back, aren’t you?”

  “A little, yeah.” She buried her face in the steam and she looked like an angel. God, he was a sap. Debra put the cup down.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not as if it’s your fault you got stabbed. In fact, I ought to thank you. You saved my life.”

  Maddox sighed. He’d be lucky if he got out of this with just his toes crushed.

  “Yeah. About that.”

  Her eyes narrowed. So did his.

  “I guess I have a few things to tell you.”

  “Something weirder than a park ranger being a werewolf? Because frankly, you’ve about hit my limit of bizarreness for the day. Possibly the whole month.” She took another sip. “And I haven’t even finished my coffee yet.”

  There was nothing Maddox wanted more than to sit at the breakfast table with this woman every morning and drink coffee. The idea nearly gave him whiplash, since, before she’d showed up in his town, he’d been a lone wolf in every sense of the word. Happy and content, howling at the moon with a different woman every week.

  Now, he was thinking white picket fences and a litter of cubs. May as well put a choke chain on him and snip his balls off—except he’d need those for the cubs. Of course, as soon as he told her everything she needed to know, she might be all too inclined to hold an impromptu neutering session. No puppies for him. Maddox couldn’t think of a way to ease into this conversation, so he just started.

  “First, I’m not a park ranger. I’m a wildlife management specialist. There’s a difference, but it’s not important right now. Second, that thing from last night. What did he want? Did he say?”

  “Pardon me. Wildlife management specialist.” She sighed and lost the sarcasm. “He didn’t actually tell me what he wanted. He did something to me so I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream. I was so scared, I could hardly even hear him.”

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the feeling that she wasn’t telling him everything.

  “Try to think back. Was he looking for something specific?”

  “No. He was just incredibly angry. At me.”

  “Why? Someone you know?”

  He was pushing her and Debra hated being pushed. It wasn’t enough he’d turned furry on her. Or rather, started out furry and turned human. He’d also slept with her and seen her nude. And now he was digging for answers about an incident she’d as soon forget ever happened.

  Stubbornly, she bit into her toast to give herself time to decide how she wanted to handle this. But a scratchy edge of bread scraped against the swollen inside of her cheek, reminding her of her injury. She hadn’t even looked in the mirror this morning. She must be terrifying.

  She swallowed. Terrifying. She’d been terrified. And that made her angrier than a few questions from Maddox Moreau did. He might be a beast, but he wasn’t a bastard. But she couldn’t tell him her story without breaking the oath to which she’d been born. She put one hand in her lap and crossed her fingers.

  “Of course I don’t know him. I don’t know why he was so mad at me. He called me a witch, and something else. Not very complimentary, I think. Then he hit me because I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. Whatever he did, I couldn’t speak.” Her voice thinned in fury and honest fear. “He hit me because he could.”

  A low, deep throbbing filled her sunny kitchen and the hair on her arms stuck straight up. Debra looked over at Twister, who stood with his hackles raised and the fangs from his underbite dripping in anticipation. He was growling, but he wasn’t the sole source of the sound.

  Maddox. He looked human enough, no fur, no changing of shape, but his eyes… His eyes were molten gold and throwing off sparks. His lip curled in a snarl and she could have sworn she saw a fang. With his neck tensed to snap, Debra knew better than to touch him. But she had to get him back under control quickly.

  She whistled, a sharp, piercing blast suited for hailing cabs in a noisy city. Twister whimpered and backed up. Maddox choked and blinked. His eyes turned blue again and his canine teeth turned back into the human sort of canine teeth.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “I’ve never been that quick on the trigger before.”

  “Well, I didn’t think I could handle you turning furry on me at this hour.”

  “Turning furry. About that…”

  Oh God. She really, really couldn’t deal with this right now. Hysterical laughter bubbled right below the surface and she could feel her eyes stinging with tears.

  “No. Please, no. I know I asked for answers, but I was wrong. I don’t want to know. I just want you to leave. I’m glad you’re better. Please don’t get stabbed again on my account.” She stood, shoving her chair back. He stood with her, reaching out across the table, but she stumbled away.

  “I…I have to go to work now.” A tear fell.

  “Please don’t cry, sugar.”

  “I’m not crying. And don’t call me sugar.” She gulped in air to stave off the sobs. Funny how that sounded a lot like sobbing. She walked back to the bedroom with a man and a dog trailing behind her. “I want to pretend this never happened.”

  “That’s not going to work, Debra. That guy threatened your life once. He’ll do it again. He came after you for a specific reason.”

  She flipped through the clothes in her closet, scraping hangers over the metal rods to drown out his words.

  “Are you sure you don’t have what he wanted? Whatever he was after?”

  Debra rested her cheek against the closet door, but winced away. His hands were light on her shoulders as he turned her to face him.

  “He hurt you, Debra. I won’t forget that.” His thumb traced softly over the swollen heat of her skin. The gentleness nearly undid her. Her hands rested against his chest, over his quickening heartbeat, the muscles hard under her fingers.

  The memory of his kiss in the shower rushed over her, but she couldn’t let herself be swayed. She’d been taught from birth to hide her gift and her charge. She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. It was too early. There were still too many things to consider. Too many questions left unanswered. She closed her eyes against the desire in his.

  “You’re right. I can’t run from this. But I need a little time to think it through.” She shook her hair back and straightened.

  He eyed her cheek. “You can’t go in to work like this. Will you let me heal it for you?”

  She put her hand up to her face and felt the sore knot of bruised flesh.

  “Please, trust me, Debra. I owe you at least this much.”

  She nodded shortly. “Go for it.” A quick touch, a brief opening of souls, and he would be done.

  He lowered his head to hers and she drew back. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to heal you.”

  “Strange, because it looked like you were going to kiss me.”

  His quick grin raised her temperature. “That’s a bonus. This will work best if you kiss me back. Open up to me.”

  Her eyebrow went back up, higher this time. She knew what he was about, but it was worth almost anything to be this close to him again. His arms slipped around her shoulders and his heat enveloped her. Wild night scents of the countryside she loved flooded her mind and body. Her eyes closed, but images of Maddox in the shower flashed across her eyelids. When their lips finally met, she was more than ready, more tha
n hungry, and as she tasted him, she moaned in relief.

  He was gentle and tender, but it wasn’t what she wanted. The brightness tried to distract her, but she wasn’t having any of that. The bonds of proper behavior with which she had been raised shattered under her hunger and she pushed into his body, seeking more.

  Maddox wrenched his mouth away, panting hard, his eyes beautiful and shimmering gold. “Heal first, then play. The light heals.”

  Primal instincts overshadowed her intellect. She barely heard his words, but sought his mouth again, eager for his touch.

  “The light, Debra. When I kiss you, let the light come over you.”

  This time, the soft press of his lips took her where he led. The radiance grew again, surrounding her with peace and warmth. It was the place she had sought through the grief of her mother’s death, through the upheaval of her life. The fact that it was connected to Maddox’s kiss was, as he said, a bonus.

  It washed over her until she calmed, then it faded, leaving quiet joy in its wake. She opened her eyes.

  Maddox stood before her, his expression serious for all the tenderness of his embrace.

  “I could fall in love with you.”

  Chapter Six

  Debra dropped him off at the resource center at the park. He stepped out of the car, but before he shut the door, he turned to look at her grave, thoughtful profile.

  “I’ll pick you up at your place at seven. Have you been to Solstice? The food’s excellent.” Maddox waited.

  He’d done everything wrong with Debra, but he’d had little choice. There hadn’t been time to plan. From the second he’d seen her walking through the park, he’d known she was the one for him.

  A sane woman would have run screaming, but she just watched him. Finally, she shook her head. “I haven’t been there yet. Seven’s fine.”

  “Debra, I’m sorry.” Her eyes were killing him. So sad. But her lips tipped up a little.

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you into this mess.”

  “Maddox.” She shook her head. “He attacked me, not you. I’m glad you were there. Are you sure your shoulder is better?”

  He rolled it, testing for soreness. “All better. Thanks to you.” Maddox hesitated. “So, see you tonight?”

  Debra nodded. He closed the door and she drove off. It was good they had a few hours apart because Maddox had a lot of work to do.

  At the council meeting, apart from wishing that being a werewolf gave him x-ray vision so he could see through Debra’s clothes, he’d tried to assure the people that there were no wolves around. None but him, at least. Hearing about the sightings concerned him. He hadn’t been anywhere near several of the places people had mentioned. And he sure as hell knew better than to flash his tail around humans. With all the rednecks around here, they’d shoot first and ask questions later.

  After the attack last night, at least now he knew what he was dealing with. He walked into the deep shadows of the swamp and let the Change overtake him.

  The Congaree Swamp National Park wasn’t officially a swamp. It was a floodplain on the Congaree River, home to a large old-growth forest and a rich reserve of natural wetland wilderness. With over twenty-two thousand acres, the rogue had a lot of places to hide.

  Maddox trotted out to one of the places near the edge of the woods where the beast had been seen and lifted his muzzle. The rogue stank. Far beyond a natural animal musk, the creature reeked of filth that obliterated the scent of the wilderness around him.

  For miles, he traced the smell around the perimeter of the swamp, but every time he found a place especially heavy with the odor, it disappeared. Whoever this guy was, he was smart. He never tracked the scent out into the open with him where Maddox could follow his back trail. He must have only changed whenever he was under cover of the woods.

  He followed one last trail that got heavier as it approached a small, older home outside the town limits. The beast spent a lot of time here, staring at the house. The area was rank with fetid rage and an unhealthy dose of lust. A movement in the fenced-off backyard caught his eye and he eased back into the underbrush.

  Twister. The dog came out from his cool spot under the porch and approached him with a wary growl. His property. His territory. The wolf was an intruder.

  Maddox stayed back, lest the dog begin to bark, drawing attention he couldn’t afford. Whoever the rogue was, he’d been studying Debra’s house. The hackles on his back rose with a tide of fury. No way was that son of a bitch getting to his mate.

  He loped away through the bushes, back to his office at the center. He had to get back to Debra.

  Debra jumped every time someone walked in the front door of the library.

  The ostentatious building had originally been built as a home for the carpetbagging Yankee who swept into town after the Civil War, when there was little to be had in the South in terms of either cash or hope. He reigned as mayor with a hard hand until his Culford-born wife went gathering in the swamp one autumn day and served a lovely dish of sautéed mushrooms with his dinner that night.

  Ludlow Corvell was laid to rest three days later with no mourners. His widow moved upstate to Greenville with a satchel full of cash. Her stepson, Ludlow Jr., took over as mayor, but deeded the house to the town. He said he was sick of his dead daddy always looking over his shoulder.

  Through time, Corvell House served numerous functions for the city. It had, in fact, been the City Hall for years before the new one was built, leaving the home free to become a library. The original Ludlow confined his ectoplasmic activities to the small museum wing, so Debra never had any trouble with him. He wasn’t a literary sort of ghost.

  Today, however, the non-standard construction of the building meant that her desk faced an open portal for monsters and murderers.

  She’d been distracted all day, thinking about Maddox (Maddox naked, Maddox clothed, Maddox kissing, Maddox naked...). Her mind stuttered and stuck there until she shook her head. She thumbed through a stack of books that traveled with her wherever she moved. Some of the books were modern hardbacks that looked like textbooks. Some, however, appeared so old they might turn to dust the moment anyone tried to turn a page. They wouldn’t, of course. They couldn’t. The knowledge contained in the books could never die or be destroyed. They were the physical representation of what she was—what her magic protected.

  The Book.

  Debra Henry, daughter many times removed to the great witch Morgaine, was a repository of magical knowledge. It was her task, as it had been her mother’s and her mother’s before her, to gather as much information about magic and witchcraft as possible, both new and old. Not that it did her much good. Generations back, her grandmothers had been strong in the Craft, but no more. She didn’t have the power to wield it herself, only keep it for the One who would come after.

  To do that, she had to keep it secret and keep it safe from those who would use the knowledge of the Book for their own purposes. Someone like that monster who had attacked her last night.

  Somehow, he knew about the Book and knew that she carried it. And somehow, she was going to have to find the strength to protect it from harm.

  Just her luck, Gary walked in the door. Debra sighed, keenly conscious of her budget, and gave him a reserved smile.

  “How do you do, Mr. Mayor?”

  “I’d like to speak to you in private, if you will, Miss Henry.” His usually polished façade was a little the worse for wear. He was limping, but passed it off as a minor affectation by using an antique, brass-topped cane. The head was a snarling wolf.

  Ever the gentleman, he placed his hand under her elbow as they walked, but his touch was hard and cold. She had the distinct impression of someone calling out, “Dead man walking,” as they moved down the hall to the collection room.

  She nodded to Gina McVay, one of the volunteers, and asked for privacy, knowing that within an hour everyone in town would hear about her closed-door meeting with the mayor.


  She shook off Gary’s hand and stepped back as far as she could in the cramped room.

  “What’s this about, Gary?”

  “It’s about you and me, Debra. It’s about why you aren’t seeing that last night didn’t have to happen.”

  Immediately, she stiffened. “What about last night?”

  “You have something that I want. I don’t see why we can’t come to an amicable agreement over it.” He refused to meet her eyes, instead searching the contours of her face with a puzzled frown.

  “What could I possibly have that you want?” Her blood turned to ice. Could he be her attacker?

  “Only you, Debra. I only want a little of your time and affection.”

  She almost slumped in relief. Whew. He was just your garden-variety obsessed stalker, not a big, furry murderous one. This she could handle.

  “I’m sorry, Gary, but it’s not going to happen.” Better to cut it off cleanly, to leave him with no doubt at all that she was not interested.

  He moved forward, crowding her. “I won’t accept that. There is no one else in this town who is better for you than I am. I could take care of you. Make it so you don’t have to work in this library. You could be with me all the time.”

  “Gosh. As fun as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass.” An odd, prickly feeling spread over her skin, as if electricity gathered around her. Whatever it was, she welcomed the sting and bite of power.

  Her whole life, her magic had been barely sufficient to guard her charge, but since the day she’d encountered that wolf in the woods, Debra had been changing. As busy as she was, she hadn’t taken the time to sit down and sort it out, but something was different about her. Everything was sharper, clearer.

  Last night’s attack had taken her by surprise, but opening her soul to Maddox for healing had strengthened her further, unblocking paths in her spirit that had always been mere trickles. Now the trickles became rivers, rushing through her blood.

  “I’m offering you every woman’s dream, Debra.”