A Wolf of Her Own (7 page)

Only Circle warriors would wear such ridiculous uniforms, a leather jerkin from the Tudor era combined with long-sleeved T-shirts, modern leather jeans and combat boots. They looked like extras in a b-movie, but apparently the leathers had practical uses too.

Gemma stood her ground, but Kieran sensed her fear. "If you behave like mangy dogs, you’ll be treated like mangy dogs."

That smarted. "I am not a dog."

Her gaze swept down the length of him, taking in the six feet of naked man. His hands twitched to cover his privates, but he was a shifter. His kind wasn’t ashamed of their naked bodies, even if he wasn’t at his most impressive, having been doused with cold water.

Her brow arched. "A reasonable man doesn’t attack vampire warriors."

"He does if he’s accused of being a killer without proof," he retorted angrily. "It’s bad enough when humans do it. From our kind it’s inexcusable."

The scarred warrior nodded. "It wasn’t fair of us. I apologise." He offered Kieran his hand. He wanted to refuse it, the accusations too familiar to overlook. But he was a bigger man than that so he shook the hand briefly.

"A man of your age should know better," he couldn’t help saying. The handshake hadn’t caused a similar reaction as when he touched Gemma, but he did get a clear notion he was dealing with someone very old.

The red-headed vampire grinned. "Papa Bear hasn’t been to a decent fight in days. He was hoping the killer wolves would provide him one." The other vampire grunted in affirmative.

Kieran growled. "Not if I get to them first."

"You’re not going anywhere until you’ve put your clothes on," Gemma stated reasonably.

Kieran took a deep breath and forced his wolf to calm down. For the first time in their long life, his companion didn’t do it gracefully. The wolf found the vampires still a threat—to her.

She was afraid of the warriors. He didn’t need to know why to protect her from them. But he couldn’t do that naked either. Or he could, but he would hurt himself.

His clothes were in tatters, scattered in the mud. It was perfectly possible to shift without tearing one’s clothes, but not when it was done in a violent hurry. "Don’t suppose you have some clothes I can borrow?"

Her porcelain skin turned slightly pink and she averted her gaze. "I guess you can borrow something from Tom." Amused that his nakedness embarrassed her all of a sudden, Kieran gathered the remains of his clothes and followed her indoors, the warriors staying behind, to all appearances prepared to wait for them no matter how long it took.

The house was similar to those its age, divided to everyday and Sunday halves by a narrow staircase leading up, and a hallway leading to the back of the house where the dining room and kitchen would be, behind it the garden surrounded by a stone fence. On the left, a morning room with comfortable, well-worn furniture from various ages, and a modern TV. On the right, a parlour furnished with an original Chippendale suite, a Persian rug, and other furniture that had become antique since their purchase as new around the late eighteenth century. It didn’t look like the room was used for anything. As an architect, he could appreciate the décor, but he preferred the comfortable morning room.

Gemma noticed his curiosity. "My parents decorated that room when the house was built. I doubt anything has changed there since Tom was born."

She led him upstairs through narrow and steep stairs that had to be original. Impractical, those were usually the first to go when an old house was modernised. Four doors opened from the landing, three to bedrooms and one to a bath, a clever later addition. He had seen less successful modernisations too. She entered the room on the left to the bath.

"This is Tom’s room. Always has been. But he’ll likely move to the master bedroom now." She was noting it more to herself, so Kieran didn’t answer. The room was small with a low, slanted ceiling and a small window that looked out over the backyard. The colours were light, the rug on the floor handmade and worn, and the bed narrow. He felt rather sure Tom wouldn’t bring his new wife to this room.

Gemma went to an antique armoire on the wall opposite to the bed and pulled out some basic clothes Kieran hoped would fit him. Tom was slightly shorter, but stockier than him. She pushed the clothes at him. "You can change here. I’ll meet you downstairs." She all but fled the room.

Kieran didn’t waste time getting into the clothes. His socks were miraculously dry, so he pulled them on, followed by his hiking boots. What remained of his own clothes he threw into a bin before returning downstairs.

Portraits and photographs, some so old their sepia tones had faded, had been hung on the staircase wall, and he studied them curiously. Many of the photos were of Gemma. She was a child in the oldest of them, from around the time photography was invented, and he guessed she was about his age. It delighted him. Difference in age didn’t matter much among two-natured, but it had unsettled him to think she might have lived for centuries longer than he had.

"How come we’ve never met before," he asked her when he joined her. "We must have been children around the same time. Didn’t you ever come to play with us?"

She shrugged. "Father didn’t like me to play with wolves. I met a couple of your clan girls at the village school, but it was for girls. Then I was turned, so that meant a century without sun. It’s slightly difficult to meet people if you’re only operational between sunset and sunrise. I won the sun a decade ago and moved to London immediately."

"You had your wolf friend though."

"Yes, well, that was a long time ago and he was more of a protector."

Kieran tensed. "What did you need protecting from?"

She looked awkward. "Well, you probably know what happened to my mother?" He wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew she had gone crazy and killed some sheep, so he nodded. She said, "I used to hide from her in your forest and he would keep me safe. He couldn’t bring other children into it. What if Mother had found us?"

His heart ached for her even as it warmed him to think that one of his people had been there for her when she needed it. He nodded. "Of course, clan safety comes first."

They returned outside where the warriors were busy admiring the horse. She was a huge animal and Kieran could understand how she would be able to push Gemma down. She was perfectly docile now though, allowing the vampires to pet her.

"Horrible beast, huh?" She made a face and he laughed. But he sensed her unease, either caused by the animal or the warriors, and he kept right by her side.

"I can see you’re horsemen," she said to the vampires. "I’m Gemma Byrd, by the way, Tom’s sister. This is Kieran Garret from the Greenwood clan. He’s their tracker. He’s been helping me with the … incident."

The redhead offered his hand and Kieran tensed when she shook it. "Nicholas Fortier. This here is Jasper Grayson. And yes, I like horses. Papa Bear, not so much."

The other bloke shrugged. "I’m more into cars."

"You said your sheep were killed too?" Nicholas asked.

Gemma nodded. "Three of them. I can take you to the kill site if you want, although we already moved the carcasses."

Kieran had no intentions of letting her go alone with the warriors, so he followed the vampires when they took off towards the back meadow, on foot this time. Their pace was brisk, but not overly so, yet he was beginning to feel lightheaded before they were halfway there. It took him a moment to identify the cause and then he cursed. He had shifted too many times today, each shift draining his Might reserves, affecting him in human form too. But he pushed the tiredness away. Gemma needed him.

"So where’s Tom?"

Gemma smiled. "He’s on his honeymoon."

The vampire warriors both halted mid-step. Then they burst out laughing.

The day had taken a turn from gruesome to bizarre. A far cry from the tedium, solitude, and repetitive manual labour Gemma had imagined her week would be filled with. The warriors now baffled her more than they frightened. Never in her life could she have imagined they would be so … normal. They were likeable even, once the male grandstanding had ended.

The fight had shaken her. It had been brutal, but that hadn’t been the worst of it. Her Rider had found it exciting, and had goaded her to join in. Fear and the thrill of the fight had filled her system with adrenaline, making it difficult for her to resist its demands. So she had ended the fight, the only solution she had been able to come up with. Only after she had poured the water on the men did it occur to her that it hadn’t necessarily been the wisest action to take. It had worked, though, and it didn’t look like the men would resume hostilities.

It didn’t mean they would lower their guards. Kieran was tense, his attention on the vampires. He walked between her and the vampires, a place he had assumed from the start, protecting her. Every time the uneven path made their formation fluctuate, forcing a row of four to turn into a line and back to a row again, she found herself being steered to one side of the path with the warriors on the other. It was like being herded by a helpful sheepdog.

He reminded her of her wolf friend who had always strived to make her feel safe, but he was different as well. For one, Kieran was not a tame dog. If she hadn’t already known it, the fight would have made it clear. He would do anything to protect himself, his clan—and her.

"So … how do you know Tom?" Ordinary vampires didn’t usually associate with the Circle.

Nicholas shrugged. "We’ve seen each other around. At the races, mainly." Epsom hosted a race course and Tom had always loved going there, so it made sense.

Kieran smiled. "Perhaps your notion of gambling debts is correct after all."

"I wish." It would make all of this more understandable.

"Tom isn’t exactly a gambling man," Nicholas noted. "And it wouldn’t explain why our sheep were killed as well. So, who is it he’s married then?"

"I have no idea." It was starting to gall her she had to admit it.

"Not very close, are you?"

The question hurt, more so because it was true. But they had been close once, especially after their father died. They’d only had each other. "I live in London." It was as good an explanation as any.

The kill site didn’t smell as horrible as it had now that the carcasses were gone. There was nothing much to see though, as tracks and footprints covered the traces. The warriors studied everything with keen eyes anyway. "You tracked the killers?" Jasper asked Kieran.

"Yes. They headed north and got into a car at the Old Mill Road."

"Fuck."

The warriors walked farther away to get a better scent. When they returned, Kieran asked, "Are they the same wolves as at your place?"

Jasper nodded. "Yes. And it seems they came to our farm first, then here, travelling in the wolf form."

"All the way from Ewell?" Crimson Circle was technically a secret organisation, but all vampires knew where they were located.

"No, it was on one of our smaller farms, less than five miles from here."

"Why would strange wolves come here and target two farms owned by vampires?" Gemma asked.

Kieran sneered and the anger that seemed to constantly simmer in him surfaced. "Isn’t it obvious? They want to cause ill will between us. And they succeeded."

"Hey, we already apologised," Jasper said defensively.

"But why would anyone want that?" This really didn’t make any sense to her.

"There are people who would prefer the Circle’s attention to be otherwise engaged," Nicholas said.

"Who?" Kieran demanded sharply.

Jasper sneered. "You don’t need to know that."

Kieran tensed, and without a thought Gemma placed a hand lightly on his arm, a reminder of his surroundings. He put his hand over hers, acknowledging it, and his anger subsided. "If someone is trying to implicate us, I’d like to know who it is," he reasoned. "I have my clan to protect."

"They’re an old enemy of ours, and not something you can fight against. We couldn’t find a trace of them here, but it doesn’t mean they’re not behind this, pulling the strings."

The vampires wouldn’t say more. Nicholas fished a calling card from the pocket of his leather jeans. "Here’s a contact number, should you find anything interesting." He offered it to Gemma and she accepted automatically, too used to the gesture to question why a Circle warrior would want her to call him. Surely he didn’t believe the killer wolves would return?

Chapter Eight

Kieran relaxed visibly after the warriors left and Gemma breathed more easily for it. "Do you want to come back for tea?"

The meadow was closer to the Greenwood clan estate than her home, so she was sure he would refuse and head home, but he nodded. "I’d love some." Her smile held all the relief she felt.

Kieran’s attention was on her during the walk back, not on imaginary threats. Having that intensity directed at her was baffling, but not unwelcome. He smiled and chatted with her about small things, his work as an architect in London and hers as a PA, as if the fierce wolf had never surfaced. She could get used to this man.

They fetched Polly and Maura on their way past their meadow. The dogs attached themselves to Kieran, following his every move with keen eyes. He picked up a stick and threw it for them to fetch. They shot after it, squabbling over which one could pick it up, and returned it with a devout look on their faces.

"I really thought dogs would be afraid of shifters," she noted.

He smiled, throwing the stick again. "Most people do. Maybe it’s because we seldom have pets. Although I believe cats are very popular among feline shifters of all types."

Gemma tried to picture a tiger-shifter she knew from work with a cat and failed. "Pets are often very wary of vampires."

"I think it’s because of our different impacts on Might. The way shifters resonate with it makes animals more comfortable around us."

"Or maybe it’s because we’re the ultimate predators?"

He put a hand on his chest, as if wounded. "Ouch. Wolves like to think we’re the biggest bad there is." But he didn’t deny her words.