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If Kade decided he didn’t want to add the painting to his collection, maybe she could convince him to temporarily store it. Maybe barter a future piece in exchange. She couldn’t trust a local facility. Solange had enough money to impress Chelsea and enough influence to make her nervous.
Maybe she was making too much out of nothing—shehadbeen accused of having an overactive imagination. But she trusted her gut instinct, and it screamed that Solange was dangerous. Better to be safe than very sorry.
If Solange knew the painting existed, Luna wouldn’t put it past her to pay someone to steal it. She might dress and act sophisticated, but the vibe she’d given off was deadly, like a poisonous viper waiting to strike. There was no telling what she’d do to get her hands on it. Having grown up around wealthy, powerful people, Luna had learned early in life that money talked and nothing was off-limits to those who lived in those upper echelons.
She came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the lobby.What am I doing?Kade fit into the same category. Fear had driven her to act rashly without taking the time to think. She’d trusted him because of the dream, because he reminded her of the gray wolf.
She, who had never depended on anyone, had automatically turned to him without hesitation. It was out of character and more than a little unnerving. Time for a change of plans. She’d destroy the painting and go into hiding until she figured out why her safe, boring, and predictable life had suddenly morphed into a television thriller of the week. The wrench in her heart, the cry of her soul, almost sent her to her knees. It would be like destroying a part of her to burn the canvas, but Solange could not get her hands on it. She’d gone from obscure artist to having two wealthy, powerful clients vying for her work. It made no sense.
I have to protect the gray wolf.There it was again. The thought ran in an endless loop in her brain, the imperative a part of her DNA, a song in her blood. She’d always been possessive of her imaginary friend, but this was way over the top. If anyone could hear her thoughts, they’d believe she was losing her mind. She wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t.
“Ma’am, may I help you?” The doorman was beside her, concern etched on his face. Of course he was. She was blocking the entrance like an idiot.
“She’s with me.” Kade appeared out of nowhere and pried the portfolio out of her hands. Running was no longer an option, and a piece of her was glad. His large presence calmed the anxiety that had gripped her since the altercation at the gallery. There was something so solid, so reassuring about him.
Because of the dream, because he reminds me of my wolf. It’s not real.
The doorman took a step back. Hard to say if it was due to intimidation or if he recognized Kade as a paying guest. Either way worked for her. “Of course, sir. If I can be of assistance, please let me know.”
Rather than lead her toward the restaurant, Kade pointed to a secluded seating area tucked away in the corner of the lobby. Trembling from an adrenaline dump and the remnants of fear, she dropped onto one of the chairs. He took the seat next to her and tucked the portfolio alongside it.
Luna took a breath, trying her best to relax. It was too late for regrets. She’d acted rashly. She hoped she didn’t live to regret it. “I need your help.”
Leaning forward, he inhaled sharply. Something primal and deadly stirred between them. His gray eyes turned cold, and the air around them seemed to chill. Fear stirred in her belly. The sharp edge of his voice lashed her. “You want to tell me why you stink of magic?”
…
“You met her?” the eager male voice demanded.
Solange sauntered into the bedroom, pleased to find Charles sitting up in bed, an empty tray beside him. “You’re looking better.” He was her lover, the wolf she’d been with for more than a hundred years. “And, yes, I met her. It’s fascinating. According to Chelsea, little Miss Luna has been drawing and painting wolves for years. She sold a special one last night to a special man.” She laughed. “Or should I say wolf.”
“They’ve made contact.” Charles flipped back the covers and stood. He’d almost died. That bastard of a white wolf and the bitch he’d connected with had almost killed him. They’d been more powerful together than she’d anticipated, the fallout more than Charles’s injury.
Wielding magic was as natural to her as breathing air was to other creatures. After the clash with the white wolf, it had been diminished. There was no other way to describe it. It was as if it had been siphoned away by something or someone else.
Fear was a new emotion for her. She didn’t like it. Not one bit. Thankfully, the situation had been temporary. She wasn’t at full capacity. Not yet but soon. Devlin Moore might be out of reach, for now, but there were two other candidates. Bring down one and she’d bring down all of them. The white wolf would pay if it was the last thing she did. All of them would.
“They have.” It wouldn’t do for him to notice she was distracted. He depended on her power and focus and commitment. “The description Chelsea gave me confirmed it. I applied some subtle pressure. Told the girl I wanted a painting. She denied having another, but she’s lying.” And that had surprised her. “I was able to touch her.” It was important to determine what went wrong last time so the mistake wasn’t repeated.
“Did you get anything from her?” He reached his arms over his head, displaying thick, rippling muscles more suited to a male a third of his age—in human years. Werewolves aged much slower, but they did age. She’d lose him if she didn’t find a way to steal the lone wolves’ immortality for her and her lover.
“It wasn’t long enough. I’ll need further study.”
Her gaze landed on his erection. Purring with delight, she ran her fingernails down the center of his chest. The scar there was permanent. That was a rare thing for a wolf. They healed quickly, but this had been life threatening. The lone wolves would pay for that.
“If she bolts?” He grabbed her hips, pulling her close.
“I left a little something with her. She can run, but she can’t hide.” It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Positively inspired.
“Hmm. Excellent work.”
“I aim to please.”
“I should be back to full strength by tomorrow. Day after at the latest. In the meantime, I’m hungry.” Grabbing the lapels of her designer suit, he yanked. Material ripped. When she went to kick off her shoes, he stopped her. “Leave them and the jewelry.”
With a sultry smile, she reached for the zipper of her skirt.
Chapter Seven
