AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The scent ended on the sidewalk. She’d gotten into a car, most likely.A fucking Town Car,he thought with a smirk. Rich bitches were all the same.
Then why are you stalking this one?
Why indeed.
She could be anywhere at all, and by the time he figured it out, she’d likely be back home. He couldn’t ask anyone he knew for help—even the thought of it made his skin crawl—but if she wasn’t home…
The Delacroix undoubtedly had staff. Probably a whole damn stable of them.
The strength of her scent made his knees weak. He buried his face in his sleeve, then shook his arm away. He was better than this. A wolf without willpower wasn’t even fit to run in a pack, let alone inherit one.
He glanced up at the looming mansion. Banana fronds swaying in the breeze pushed a lovely—relieving, really—wave of wisteria his way. It didn’t erase the witch’s scent but gave him a moment to think.
Silvan was no small man. There was no stealthing into any situation, regardless of what form he was in. But hewasskilled in persuasion. And if he was caught by a member of the Delacroixs’ endless staff, he could fast-talk his way out of it.
“Fuck it,” he growled, creeping around the side of the house. It was the longest house he’d ever seen, and he wondered what the hell they needed all this space for. But the answer was they didn’t. No one did.
There was movement beyond the long row of windows, but nothing to indicate he’d be walking into a circle jerk or a party. Things were even quieter around back, and as though fate’s sense of humor was perfectly aligned to his, the back door wasopen.
A nearby delivery truck—flowersbecause they didn’t fucking have enough of them on the damn plantation of a property?—revealed why. Even better. There’d be enough commotion he might not even need an excuse.
Silvan slipped inside and breathed deep. Her scent was goddamn everywhere. On everything. The force of it sent him careening into the screened porch, where he, quite embarrassingly, needed a moment to steel himself.
Withthathorrifying episode behind him, he entered a kitchen so small he knew there had to be another one somewhere else. Or two. Or three. Who knew with these rich bitch witches. A woman wearing a white uniform breezed past him without acknowledgment, and he took that as an encouragement to creep farther into the house.
Romy’s scent heightened when he reached an elaborate stairwell that looked straight out of the movies. Silvan glanced around, ensured he was alone, and bounded up the stairs.
The hallway at the top was exactly what he’d imagined—a row of doors, enough for a small hotel, and walls lined with the most ridiculous portraits he’d ever seen. But he didn’t care about them, or the doors, or any of it, becauseholy shitwas her scent overpowering.
Get ahold of yourself.
Shaking it off, Silvan tried to restrain himself as he followed his instincts. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he was nearly knocked back. It wasn’t just that her scent was every-fucking-where, either.
Who theshitliked this much turquoise?
He swept through her room, examining anything that might…
Might what?
Why was he even there?
Why wasn’t he out hunting with the pack, bad mood and all?
Even as he thought these things, he rifled through her desk and dresser and opened her laptop. Password protected, of course. Next to it, though, was a diary, and he didn’t think twice about opening it.
“Bah,” he muttered when he realized it was an appointment diary. But just as he was closing it, he caught the date. Today.Dinner with Dane. Brennan’s. 7 PM. Just go ahead and kill me now.
“Brennan’s, eh? Fucking bluebloods.” He slammed it shut, but his disgust had dulled. He knew where Brennan’s was. Had eaten there a few times. They wouldn’t let him in, dressed as he was, but…
Are you really going to pretend you’re not gonna follow her?
A growl rippled from deep within, building until he had no choice but to release it into his arm.
He started to storm out but paused, thinking. Then he backtracked to her dresser.
And pulled out a lacy pink thong.
“Mine,” he grunted and left.
