Shadow Wolf: A Shifter Romance (Arctic Brotherhood, Book 2) Read online

  His friend gave him a Doesn’t everyone? look. “Pretty much. There is a whole movement dedicated to tracking Chastel’s movements. He is deadly to werewolves. He makes no secret of the fact that his mission is to wipe us out.”

  “So you think Chastel is here in Alaska because he knows Valetta is Shadow Born and he wants to kill her?”

  Lowell shook his head. “Chastel is more ambitious than that. Think about it. Through her mother’s successful mating with Hendrik, Valetta has the power to wipe out the entire race of Arctic werewolves. If Chastel can get his hands on her and harness that power, you and I, along with every other Arctic werewolf on this planet, will cease to exist.”

  Samson took a moment to assimilate this information. “So he wants to use Valetta as a weapon of mass destruction?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Even though she herself has no idea how these powers she inherited work?”

  “She has them. To Chastel, that will be enough.”

  Samson could feel cold fury rising inside him. It was unlike his usual anger. Normally, he exploded into a rage that stayed at the boiling point briefly and subsided quickly. This was different. This was about Valetta . . . and about the entire Arctic werewolf species. This bastard Chastel wanted to take that bright, beautiful girl and use her like a snarling attack dog against Samson’s own pack. The intensity of the hatred he felt toward Chastel was not going to subside anytime soon.

  “So this gang? Why did he set that up? He went to a lot of trouble. Why not just grab Valetta off the street?”

  Lowell frowned. “I’ve been thinking about that. It seems to me he may have needed to observe her in a specific setting without giving away his purpose.”

  Samson looked bemused. “How could he observe her? He wasn’t there.”

  “This Konrad guy you told me about. He’s definitely an Arctic werewolf?”

  Samson ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s just the problem. He looks like an Arctic werewolf, but I’m not convinced he is. Why?”

  “Maybe I’m seeing monsters where there are none. Or maybe I should say I’m seeing sick bastard bounty hunters where there are none. As I said earlier, Chastel never goes far without his devoted henchman, Denis.”

  “You think Konrad could be Denis?”

  “It crossed my mind. But Denis was described as being short and dark with a frowning brow and a shuffling gait.” Lowell tapped a finger on the book that told the story of the Beast of Gévaudan. “For a simple country boy, Denis did a good public relations job for Chastel. He was responsible for recording Chastel’s heroism in defeating the beast. He is the person who told the story of the Shadow Wolf. This is the book he wrote about the story. It’s the only record from the time of the story.”

  Samson glared at the tiny dot on the globe. “We need to know more. Looks like we’re on our way to a place called Ulu. Isn’t an ulu some sort of knife?”

  “It is. The island is named after the tool made by the indigenous people of the region. Archaeologists found one on the island that was well over three thousand years old. The blade was still sharp enough to be used.”

  “Good. Although when I meet Chastel, I won’t need a blade. Teeth and claws will do just fine.”

  Lowell laughed. “Last time, the brotherhood had a break of four hundred years between missions. This time, it’s been six months. Will you call them, or shall I?”

  Samson yawned, stretching his long limbs as he rose to his feet. “Let me speak to Hendrik before we summon the cavalry.”

  Valetta jerked awake, her eyes wide as they wandered around the room. Samson watched her for a moment or two as she lay still. She seemed to be taking in the details of the unknown room in the light afforded by the perpetual sunlight sneaking through the dark curtains. Turning her head, she blinked when she saw Samson sitting in a chair close to the bed.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “An hour, maybe two.”

  He sensed his words aroused conflicting emotions in her and she wasn’t sure what to do with them. Typically, she went into attack mode. “You don’t need to watch over me.”

  He stretched weary arms over his head. “Turns out I might.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Can we have this conversation in the morning? I’m tired.”

  Taking him by surprise, she flipped back the quilt. “Get in.”

  He paused. “What are you offering exactly?”

  “Somewhere to sleep. Nothing more. You’re tired. I’m tired. I know you well enough by now to know you’ll argue if I try and send you away and I don’t have the energy to fight you. So just get in and let’s both get some sleep.”

  Samson gave a soft laugh. Then, tugging off his boots, he rose to his feet. The bed dipped as he lay down next to her with an appreciative groan. “Valetta, this might just have been the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  “Good night, Samson.”

  He closed his eyes and was soon drifting off to sleep. When he woke sometime later, he was curled up close to Valetta. The front of his body was snug against her back, his thighs tucked under hers, one arm around her waist. Valetta shifted position slightly and he sighed, unable to resist the temptation to draw her closer.

  “Are you awake?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “No.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I do this.” She wiggled her hips and his cock jerked wildly as her buttocks rubbed back and forth against him.

  He didn’t reply, but, as if with a will of its own, his hand reached beneath the cotton of her vest, massaging the soft fullness of her breast. Valetta arched into him in a silent request for more, her hardened nipple pushing against the palm of his hand. It didn’t matter how much his head told him to stop, his body stubbornly refused to listen. He continued to squeeze lightly, his fingers sliding with slow deliberation toward her nipple, then moving away again. Teasing her. Grasping his hand, she moved it to the center of her breast. He laughed softly, gripping the firm nipple, rolling it and plucking it to further arousal.

  The heat of her body had grown more intense now, he could feel it. Could smell her arousal. His own body temperature was rising, his breath coming in slow pants, his heart pounding in his ears. For her sake he had to either stop this right now or see it all the way through. His own needs played no part in this. Still with Valetta facing away from him, he pulled her back into his lap, holding her so his cock pressed fully into the soft warmth of her buttocks. Her hands clutched his thighs as her head fell back against his chest.

  “Samson . . .”

  “Hush,” he breathed in her ear. Both of his hands came around to stroke her breasts through the vest, his thumbs moving back and forth over her nipples until her breathing grew slow and labored.

  He kept one hand on her nipple, bringing it to diamond hardness, while his other hand moved down her belly to her underwear. She wore a tiny thong. He remembered selecting it from among the other flimsy lacy items in the cave. He slipped a hand inside the elastic and groaned as his fingertips encountered her silken curls. His cock jerked against her ass as he moved his fingers over her mound. He cupped her for a moment before moving further down to tease the swollen lips of her sex.

  She whimpered, her legs falling open as she leaned back against him. Her breast arched further into his hand, and he squeezed her nipple in a light pinch. He moved his other hand, parting her folds, circling her opening. When she sighed his name, he pushed a finger into her. Damn, she felt good. Warm, tight, and wet. Valetta gave a guttural groan as her body clenched tight around him.

  “Easy,” he whispered, moving his lips to her neck. “Let’s take it slow.”

  The smell of her, the feel of her, the taste of her skin were driving him into a frenzy. His cock was jackhammering like a wild thing against her, demanding release. Determinedly, he ignored it.

  He withdrew his finger slightly, and then pushed it back in. Valetta’s body seemed to relax this time, knowing what to expec
t, welcoming the action. He moved his thumb up to stroke her clitoris, and she cried out.

  “Oh, dear God, Samson,” she gasped as he flicked his thumb back and forth over her. “Please don’t stop doing that.”

  He had no intention of stopping. Pulling his finger out from her hot channel, he pushed it back inside, adding a second finger. He closed his eyes, picturing replacing them with his cock. He needed release as much as she did. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to take it. Samson believed promises were made to be kept. And a promise made to himself was the most important of them all.

  He could tell himself that, by making this all about Valetta, he was being faithful to Anna and keeping his promise to himself, but Samson was too honest to fool himself for long. He might deny himself his own release, but this was for him as much as Valetta. Touching her was addicting, coaxing those noises of surrender from her was the sweetest triumph, holding her in his arms eased an ache he hadn’t even known existed.

  He wasn’t going to let go and surrender to the impulse to free his cock from his jeans and plunge deep inside her, but he wasn’t fooling himself that he was being restrained. It felt a lot like he was being cowardly. Because letting go would mean admitting she meant a whole lot more to him than the wildfire of need that was blazing through him. It meant he might have to face up to more than the here and now.

  As Samson’s thumb moved faster over her, Valetta jerked wildly against his hand. Her breath came quicker. He felt her body start to tense and plunged his fingers in right up to the hilt, letting his thumb drive her over the edge. With a gasp, she contracted around him, shaking and crying out before collapsing back against him.

  Samson held her close until the tremors subsided and she turned in his arms. Tangling her legs with his, Valetta reached a hand down toward his cock, but he caught her wrist before she could touch him.

  He felt the weight of her gaze, hurt and confused, seeking his face in the half-light. “I see. Back at the compound you gave me a pity kiss and now you’ve just given me a pity orgasm? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “Well, as the deliverer of the orgasm in question, I got the impression it made you feel pretty damn good. And, just like last time, it had nothing to do with pity.”

  “Then why won’t you let me touch you?”

  “Valetta . . .” His voice was tired. “Can we not do this now?”

  Valetta leaned up on one elbow. “You started this when you put your fingers inside me and made me come, Samson.” He had a feeling his indrawn breath told her exactly how turned on those words made him. “Now explain to me why that’s okay, but everything else is off limits. Is it because I’m Shadow Born?”

  “Fuck, no. How can you think that?” His vehemence should leave her in no doubt that he was telling the truth. “You’re the daughter of one of my oldest friends.”

  “That’s it? That’s what this is all about?”

  No, but it was part of it. He couldn’t tell her about Anna. Couldn’t ever tell anyone about the pain and emptiness that had been the story of his life since he’d lost her. “Valetta, I don’t want to hurt you.” He didn’t want to hurt either of them.

  “But it’s not because you don’t want me?” He could hear the anxiety in her voice.

  “You must know it’s not about that.” How could she even think that?

  “Fine.”

  Fine? Why did he get the feeling he’d just lost some kind of battle? “You’re okay with this?”

  “I don’t like it, but I understand.” She moved a fraction closer. “It doesn’t mean you can’t hold me while we sleep, does it?”

  He hesitated. “I guess not.”

  He gave a soft groan and Valetta pressed her face closer into the warmth of his chest. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He didn’t know whether to be scared or excited at the realization that she now seemed to view him as some sort of challenge.

  Chapter Seven

  Valetta regarded her childhood home warily. It looked different somehow, even though nothing about it had changed. I’ve changed. That was the difference. In the short time she’d been away, everything she thought she knew about herself had been shaken up. Now, she had to face her father and tell him the truth about who she was. Despite Samson’s reassurances, she couldn’t help wondering how Hendrik would react.

  When they were buzzed into the courtyard of the beautiful mansion, Valetta was surprised to find the door being held open by a young woman.

  Valetta frowned. “Who are you?”

  The other woman swallowed hard, glancing around nervously. “I’m the housekeeper.”

  The frown became fierce. “We don’t have a housekeeper.”

  Samson intervened, giving them both a cheery smile as though the presence of a stranger in Valetta’s home would somehow be a welcome change. “This is Cindy.”

  Before things could get any weirder, Hendrik appeared. Pushing past Cindy, he swept Valetta into his arms, crushing her to him. “You’re safe. My God, I’ve been so worried.”

  Determined not to allow herself to disintegrate into tears, Valetta returned his embrace. The hug gave her a chance to collect her thoughts and master her voice. When Hendrik released her and walked inside with his arm around her, she was able to deflect his questions with a semblance of normality.

  “Dad, can I shower and change before we talk?”

  “Of course. While you do that, Cindy will organize some food.”

  As he spoke, two men, both Arctic werewolves, strolled in from the garden. “Food sounds good.” One of them grinned at Cindy, who blushed and smiled shyly in response. “And coffee would be welcome, too.”

  “Is this the same house?” Valetta looked around with a bemused expression. “It seems to have acquired a number of new occupants while I’ve been away.”

  Samson greeted the Arctic werewolves with evident pleasure. “Valetta, meet Madden and Sebastian. They are friends of mine who agreed to step in and guard your father’s place while these threats were still going on.”

  Valetta studied Madden and Sebastian. “Don’t tell me. You’re members of the brotherhood as well?” They had that indefinable something, the military bearing, the confidence. The fuck-off attitude.

  “How did you know?” Madden grinned. The three men, with her father standing slightly to one side, could be poster boys for Arctic maleness. Muscle-bound alpha werewolves, glowing with dominant genes, their perfectly carved, slightly arrogant Nordic features, white-blond hair and gold eyes proclaiming their proud heritage.

  “Just a lucky guess.”

  Valetta went to her room, rejoicing in its cozy familiarity as she closed the door behind her. If only she could curl up in that bed and stay there for a few days. Just forget everything and let its comforting warmth enfold and soothe her. There were the familiar items from her childhood. The overstuffed toy bear, the Alaska Baseball League cap, the series of photographs of Valetta with her father at various stages throughout her childhood. And one tiny picture in a wooden frame. It should be silver, Hendrik had once said. But, you know . . . It was the only one in the house, the only one—so far as Valetta knew—in existence—of her mother. In it Teresa was smiling self-consciously at the camera, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her long, silver-white hair streamed in loose waves down her back and, even in the old picture, the golden glint of her eyes was evident. She looks like an Arctic werewolf. She looks like me. Teresa Rickard appeared harmless, slightly fragile, and very beautiful. Wasn’t that the point? If a Shadow Wolf looked hideous, it wouldn’t be able to enchant its host.

  Determinedly turning her back on sentimentality and yet more questions, Valetta headed for the shower. The warm water provided a welcome release from the tension of the last few days and she tried to focus on that rather than on the jumble of thoughts jostling for supremacy in her mind. But she couldn’t ignore the thrum of heat that spun through her whenever she allowed her attention to wander back to the events of the previous night. The memo
ry of Samson’s hands on and in her body ignited a fire that was part chagrin but mostly lust. He had awakened something in her she hadn’t known existed. When he had rejected her tentative advances, Valetta had been devastated. Now she knew his reasons. Knew what he said they were, but didn’t believe them. He expected her to accept he was keeping his distance because of some masculine code of conduct? She suspected there was a deeper, more fundamental reason that was keeping him from acting on the attraction between them. She didn’t know what it was, but she did know how much he wanted her. That knowledge fired up her determination to break down his barriers. She stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. We might have other, more momentous, things to think about, but you, Samson Lee, have no idea what you’re up against. She wasn’t asking him for forever. Valetta didn’t know how long her forever might be. All she wanted from Samson was now, and the chance to make the most of it.

  Once she was dressed in clean jeans, sneakers, and a hooded sweatshirt, she felt better prepared to face the ordeal of explaining things to her father. Going to the jewelry case Hendrik had given her for her twelfth birthday, Valetta removed the contents and lifted out the padded base. Hidden in the bottom was the letter from her mother. Quickly she scanned its contents, even though she knew every word by heart.

  When she returned to the kitchen, there was quite a family atmosphere. Cindy was serving up raw steaks with Hendrik’s favorite soft-boiled eggs and copious amounts of coffee. It occurred to Valetta that her father appeared curiously relaxed for a man whose life was being threatened.

  She drew Samson to one side. “Who is she?” She nodded in Cindy’s direction.

  “When I was looking for you, I came across another biker gang. Cindy was with them. She’d been abducted by them two years earlier. I brought her here because she had nowhere else to go.”

  “So you brought me a stepmom from a biker gang?”

  Samson regarded her in bemusement for a moment or two. Then he turned to look at Hendrik and Cindy. Cindy was piling Hendrik’s plate high and he was protesting. The smile they exchanged was fond and lingering.