Seduced by a Shifter (3 page)

“Ah.” Zan hemmed. “Actually, his pack isn’t in the States.”

“Zan,” Dean warned.

Zan’s lips pursed as if he were about to impart something unpleasant and Ben’s wolf crouched in wariness. “Rome’s a feline shifter. From Peru.” Amidst the grumbling and snarls he raised his voice. “As you know, feline shifters don’t have packs. They’re usually loners, but Rome’s family has remained close. In fact, they run a wildlife preserve in the northwest part of Peru. And frankly, all of you should know better than to be biased about a group of people before you ever meet them.”

Because human males who could change into a wolf didn’t make
them
bad people. It just made them different.

Jack spoke into the silence. “Regardless of this man’s heritage, it strikes me that someone needs our protection. Period. I do, however, wish to know more about this witness. As in, were they part of the, ah, criminal group?”

Rather than Zan, it was Caleb who answered. “Far from it. Willow Yancy is a young lady, a human, who knows nothing about our kind. A ballet dancer just making a name for herself when she became caught in the middle of this. Tess actually saw her dance once a couple of years ago in some small production and remembered her. Said the girl had the most innocent eyes she’d ever seen.”

“What happened?” Vince asked. His own daughter had shown an interest in dance several years ago when she was a kid, and as any loving and indulgent father, he’d given her full rein.

“She was shot, twice. Blew out her knee and took a chunk of her hip bone. She’ll never dance again.” Zan’s face tightened with anger. “What would you do if your daughter, sister, or one of our pack females not only had her dream taken away so carelessly, but nearly lost her life?”

“Kill the fucker,” Mack muttered, low and harsh. Vince and several others echoed his sentiments. To them, women were treasured. Didn’t matter the size, age, race, or ethnicity. A female kept the males grounded, soothed. Without them, they might easily lose control over their beast, and a wild, dangerous animal running amok with a human’s intelligence was a terrifying prospect. Multiply that by thousands, and the result would easily equal mass destruction.

“Where are they staying?” Ben wanted to know, already mentally calculating how this was going to play out. While he felt pity for the girl, and would do what was required of him without complaint, he wasn’t looking forward to becoming a damn babysitter, which, taking into account Kaylie’s whisper, meant he’d already been nominated for the role. Round-the-clock protection for an undetermined time period meant his prospects at hooking up with a couple of snow bunnies was going downhill at full speed.

“We’re putting them in one of the finished cabins by the lodge,” Dean said, referring to the three newly constructed buildings situated by the ski lodge. “Zan’s cohorts will take one of the other cabins and the third will be kept available to us to use as needed. Ben, I’ll need you to be liaison with this Rome, which also means you’re first up on protection duty. Mack will take the next four-hour shift, followed by Vince, Jack, Eddie, then Josh. Once Scott and Joe get here, we won’t need to be on site, though I do want us all to keep our eyes and ears open at all times. For as long as it takes.”

Before Ben could question the reason why Brandon and Caleb weren’t added to the protection roster, Dean added, “Brandon, Zan, and the other cops will have enough on their hands with the influx of tourists for skiing season and the heightened aggression of the shifters prior to the full moon. Caleb will be too crazed with wedding and honeymoon plans.”

“I am not crazed,” Caleb groused.

“Please. Until that female says ‘I do’ and you’ve got her committed in every way, you’re crazed. I know. I’ve been there. And Tess is Kaylie’s sister, after all. They’re both too damn independent for our comfort.” The last was muttered, as if Dean actually disliked having an independent mate.

Ben didn’t get it. When, not if, he found his mate, independence was one trait he prayed she possessed in spades. In his twenty-nine years he’d done a lot of thinking of his perfect mate. She wouldn’t crowd him or question him about his crazy jobs—which changed according to season and what Dean needed him to do—or when he wanted to shoot hoops with his friends. As long as she remained faithful, she could do whatever made her happy, just as long as that happiness didn’t depend on Ben.

Ben had grown up with co-dependent, possessive parents. The bakery in town they once owned had been sold when their warped need to be each other’s sole interest had turned deadly. Ben could still remember the winter he’d turned fourteen, when the cruel accusations his parents hurled at one another escalated to a fever pitch. His father had stormed out of the house in a rage, threatening to kill them all. Two hours later he was dead from a snapped neck. Based on the evidence, he’d been speeding on the icy mountain roads, lost control of his vehicle, and been thrown through the windshield onto the unforgiving hard concrete highway.

They also found an empty bottle of whiskey on the passenger floor.

While his mother had reverted to a quiet, almost childlike dependency after her husband’s death, Ben had stepped out into the world with his arms wide open. Wolves were social creatures, needing touch from their pack members to reinforce bonds and soothe their beasts. His parents had stifled his animal’s needs, and their own, by their unhealthy dependence on each other.

Shaking the memory off, Ben wiped his hands impatiently on a napkin and rested more comfortably against the front of the couch. “And when will they be here?” Because the night was still young and this meeting was about to be adjourned.

The sound of slamming vehicle doors made his libido sink, as did his hope at catching up with Pete and the snow bunnies.

Babysitting duty was about to begin.

To say Willow felt a little nervous as she followed Rome inside the two-story house nestled deep within the Colorado mountains was an understatement. The sheer number of vehicles parked in the large cle
aring in front of the home forewarned her that something akin to a party might possibly be taking place.

“Are you sure we’re expected?” Willow whispered, struggling to untie the wet laces of her new boots with cold fingers. Since she’d had to start all over in the clothes department once ensconced in the Witness Protection Program, and believing it would only be for a short time, Willow had only purchased the necessities to tide her over. Unfortunately, the winter temperatures in Phoenix, Arizona, was a far cry from that of the Colorado mountains. Stopping at a Walmart for warmer clothes meant most everything she now owned was stuffed in either her single suitcase or jammed in one of the many plastic shopping bags that littered the truck.

Her new gloves were packed somewhere in one of those bags, though she did have on her new coat. While Willow had only wanted a jacket sufficient enough for short jaunts from warm car to warm house, Rome had insisted on something heavier, which she was now grateful for. Being outside in the cold wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but being idle wasn’t something she did well. A walk in the woods might be interesting. Maybe she could ask Rome about skiing. She’d never been skiing. Then again, her knee and hip may be opposed to that idea all together.

She’d take it one day at a time.

“Yes,” Rome sent her a reassuring smile, patient even though he already informed her of why he was bringing Willow to this community. “These men can’t protect you if they haven’t met you, and I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”

“And you trust them?” Willow unconsciously slid her stocking feet into ballet third position on the tiled floor of the foyer.

Rome cupped her chin in one surprisingly warm hand. “With both our lives.”

Searching his dark eyes for a moment, Willow saw nothing but serious honesty. She trusted this man who had already saved her life once. If Rome trusted these people she was about to encounter, then she would as well. Swallowing her anxiety, she nodded once. “Okay, then.”

White teeth flashed, striking against the deep honey color of his face, showcasing the dimples that seemed so at odds with his rugged features. “Okay, then.”

Noticing her nerves, he placed a hand on her lower back, another sign of assurance. “Pretend you’re about to go onstage,” he suggested. “Shoulders back, head up.”

Rome was right. She might no longer have the graceful, gravity-defying movements of a dancer, but she still had the poise. Not wanting anyone to think of her as a victim, she set her shoulders back, chin up. Open
epaulement
, arms at rest.

Because Willow wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor.

As they stepped into a spacious living area, all conversation ceased and she found herself the attention. On stage she could lose herself in the music, forget about the ri
veting stare of a thousand pairs of anonymous eyes. Here, there was no hiding. All the spit in her mouth dried up when she realized not one female was present. When every male stood at her entrance, filling the room to bursting with testosterone, she took a hasty step back, then forced herself to stand still and not duck behind Rome.

You were sick of hiding anyway,
she told herself sternly as a man, handsome in a dark and dangerous kind of way, walked across the room. His grin and the welcoming warmth in his eyes released some of her tension.

“Good to see you, Rome.” He enveloped the agent in a bear hug.

Rome returned the hearty gesture, giving Willow the impression that these two were friends as well as business acquaintances. That put her more at ease than all the reassuring words Rome had spouted throughout the long drive. “Zan, you sneaky bastard. Heard you got married.”

They parted with Zan wearing what could only be described as a goofy smile. “To a beautiful doctor, no less. The light of my life.”

“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks. I’m happy for me as well.” Zan turned memorizing green eyes on Willow and held out a hand, his tone soothing. “Miss Yancy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Though relieved she would no longer need to go by a fake name, she remained guarded as he swallowed her hand in his. “Willow. Please. I’d like to thank you for, um…”

He raised a brow, his smile never fading. “Helping you out?”

Her lips twitched. “Yes. Helping me out. I hope we didn’t crash a party.”

“On the contrary.” Zan stepped back and raised his arm, encompassing everyone in the room. “We were just discussing strategy.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Everyone,” she whispered.

“Everyone.” Zan turned back to Willow, a harsh gleam in his eyes. “We don’t take well to women being hurt. It goes against our nature.” At her stunned expression, he reached out and touched her chin with two gentle fingers. “You will be safer with us than anywhere on this planet.”

Rome made some strange sound, almost a low growl, and Zan’s eyes twinkled. “Well, depending on one’s perspective.”

With that cryptic remark zinging through her head, Zan began introducing all the men in the room, each one coming up to her and shaking her hand. The first man was so strikingly similar to Zan that Willow wasn’t surprised he turned out to be Zan’s brother. She was, however, surprised that this Dean Kinigos was also the town’s mayor. Next came the sheriff, Caleb; a deputy, Brandon; a shy mechanic named Eddie; and a teacher named Josh. On the heels of Josh was an older gentleman by the name of Jack, who in demeanor reminded her so much of her father that Willow felt a momentary longing for her own.

That yearning was interrupted when a very large man named Mack came up and raised her hand to his lips. He smiled at her shocked “ow” and might have added to his “Pleased to meet you” if he hadn’t been shoved out of the way with surprising ease by a man possibly in his late fifties.

“Behave yourself.” The older gentleman scowled at Mack before turning to Willow with a mischievous grin. Bemused by everyone, and hoping a test wasn’t in the foreseeable future, she waited for what this newcomer would do. Like all the others, he took her hand, then clasped his other over it. “I am Vince DeNoza. You like Italian food?”

As the question came out of left field, it took Willow a second to respond “I do, yes.”

“
Excellente
!” He beamed at her. “I own the magnificent
Locanda Italiana
. I will provide the best Italian meals you ever ate, as only a true Italian can do.” His accent grew thicker as he spoke, making Willow skeptical of Vince’s authenticity.

Before she could decide, a tall, dark blond man wrapped a hand around Vincent’s wrist and squeezed, causing the older man to drop his hold. The action was so smooth, so quick, that Willow jerked her gaze up and into a pair of eyes a stunning color. Not brown. That was simply too tame.

Shimmering bronze
, she thought as the man spoke to the restaurant owner, though his eyes remained locked on Willow’s. “Quit flirting, Vince, or I’ll tell your wife on you.”

Willow wanted to shiver at the low, silky tone. It made her think of hungry whispers in the dark, tangled sheets, and glistening bodies. Which was extremely disconcerting, especially since she’d never encountered any of those things. But Willow wasn’t stupid, either. This man was pure seduction, and every female part of her, ignored for so long, began to stretch awake and purr with approval.

His hair curled invitingly over a face just this side of pretty-boy handsome due to a sculpted jaw and weathered lines that fanned from his eyes. The heated gleam in those bronzed depths was far from any innocent boy-next-door charm.

“I’m Ben Anderson,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. Unlike Mack, he didn’t kiss the back of her hand. No, this tempting specimen of masculinity placed his mouth on the palm of her hand. The jolt of electricity from his touch shot straight up her arm, split at her shoulder, and seemed to invade her very bloodstream. In the blink of an eye she felt like she’d downed a dozen No-doz. Her heart began to race and a warmth that had nothing to do with the weight of her heavy coat inside the toasty home spread over every inch of her body.

This Ben suddenly went stock-still, lashes dropping over those amazing eyes, his nose buried in her hand as he practically nuzzled her palm.

“That’s enough, pup.” Rome growled the last word as if it was a curse.

Ben’s head rose sharply, eyes glued to hers. “I apologize. Your...scent is quite lovely.”

Her scent? The only thing good she smelled was a hint of sandalwood, and it wasn’t coming from her. It was coming from Ben. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” a female voice called out from behind Willow, startling her into action. With a slight tug, Willow slipped her hand from Ben’s, somehow knowing the only reason she was free from his touch was because he’d allowed it. Off center, she turned to see a woman about her own age and height, but with brown hair and eyes sparkling with life and happiness. “I didn’t mean to be so long but the baby was fussy and it took a bit longer to get him asleep than I thought.”

Willow pasted on a polite smile as the other woman reached out to take Willow’s hand. “Sorry. Welcome to my home. I’m Kaylie Gentry.”

A growl from Willow’s right had her swinging her head around to see that Dean had once again risen from his chair.

Kaylie let out a huff and Willow looked back in time to see her roll her eyes. “Kinigos. Kaylie Gentry Kinigos. Really, Dean. You’re so possessive.”

“That’s because you’re mine,” the black-haired mayor rumbled.

Kaylie placed a warm hand on Willow’s arm and led her to the sofa. “He’s so feisty, but I love him anyway.” She glared around the room. “Can’t say much for the others, who allowed our guests to stand in the doorway without offering a drink, food, or even a darn seat.”

“Oh, no.” Willow murmured, a mite uneasy, especially when she heard another low growling sound. She looked around for a dog. A big, unhappy one. Then in a flurry of movement, most of the men began a hurried, albeit cordial, mass exodus, and she sagged back into the cushions in confusion. “Well.”

Kaylie, looking almost as bemused as Willow, turned to her husband. “What’d I say?”

It was Zan who answered with a low chuckle. “You need to learn more control over your tone, Kaylie. They think you’re unhappy with them.”

Willow watched Kaylie bite her lip in anxiety, then looked over at the woman’s husband, who seemed to be amused. In addition to Zan, Caleb, Brandon, and Ben remained behind, as did Rome, of course, who moved over to stretch out in a duplicate of Dean’s chair that was placed in front of a roaring fire.

“You’ll learn, baby.” Dean told his wife.

Kaylie let out a sigh and turned to focus on Willow. “Would you like anything to drink or eat?”

Totally confused, Willow shrugged out of her coat and accepted a Dr. Pepper and popped the top. She didn’t understand what was going on and looked over at Rome to see his reaction. He only shrugged when their eyes connected. No help there. Then she turned her gaze across the coffee table and got caught up in Ben’s, who now lounged on the loveseat directly opposite her. The corners of his lips were curled up and he winked at her.

Willow was glad she was sitting down. She could blame the weakness in her knees to the long car ride followed by the cold, standing still so long, need for food, or a million other things. None would be correct. His gaze felt like a physical touch, his bottom lip a temptation for her teeth. Never before had she felt the desire to sink her teeth into human flesh, but Ben’s? Hot and damn came to mind.

“Oh, come on, Dean.” Caleb leaned against the sofa arm next to Kaylie. “You’re going to let your
wife
think that?”

Kaylie’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t do anything to make them leave?”

Dean let out a soft chuckle. “No. I did.”

Willow frowned, wondering when he told everyone to leave. She didn’t recall hearing it.

“So you were playing with me.” Kaylie’s glare shot from her husband to Zan. “Both of you. Why?”

A gleam of something flashed in Dean’s eyes. “In retaliation for the mud-wrestling story.”

Willow’s brows rose and she shot her eyes to Rome’s seemingly slumbering form and back to Kaylie.
What kind of people had Rome brought her to?

“Hello? Playing softball, and it was raining. Mud was an obvious result. And I’m not the one who brought it up.” Kaylie pointed a finger at Zan. “It was your wife who did so.”

Zan chuckled. “Yeah, but my wife’s not lu—” He paused, slanting a glance from Willow to Dean. “Not married to the mayor.”

Willow was getting a headache. There was so much going on below the surface with these people that she felt as if she’d walked in at the middle of a movie. Added to that, both her knee and hip began to make their displeasure at the long drive from Denver known. She reached down with one hand to massage her knee while she used the other to reach for her purse. Which, she realized belatedly, was back in the rented SUV.

She let out a soft sigh.

“You all right?” Ben leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His tone was low, almost a whisper, but it caused everyone else in the room to turn their way.

They all must have freaking dog ears,
Willow thought glumly, once again finding herself the center of attention. “I just forgot my purse in the truck.”

Ben looked down at the hand on her knee, then back to her face. She thought she saw a flash of anger in the bronze depths, yet his question was a soothing caress. The man could make millions off the emotions his voice evoked. “What are you taking for the pain?”

Willow first looked at Rome, who lazily lifted his chin as if to say “go ahead.” “Just Tylenol.” Except when she went to bed. That’s when the nightmares came.

“Well, I have plenty of that.” Kaylie stood up. “Especially since I married that one.”

As the other woman left the room, Willow watched Dean watch his wife. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable, and extremely private. It made her almost uncomfortable to witness.