The Shadow Wolf (2 page)

Gabriel growled softly, wanting to find whoever dared to hurt her so he could demonstrate the power of his fists.

“You're safe now,” he told her.

He went into the kitchen. The twins were huddled together on a chair, their eyes wide, holding each other's hands. Sending waves of reassurance into their minds through his powers, Gabriel squatted down to their level. “All will be well,
mes petites.
I'm going to take good care of you.”

Then he waved a hand, telepathically commanding them to sleep and instructed Jay to put them into the back of the SUV. Gabriel called his housekeeper.

“Jean, we're having company. I need you to go shopping for twin girls, age seven. They're about 50-55 pounds. Get a bunch of shorts, shirts, enough sizes in case they don't fit and charge it to my card.”

He hung up, went into the restaurant and planted subtle suggestions in the minds of the customers, nothing but a heated squabble between an irate husband and his wife. Even the pack of Draicon werewolves acquiesced. Everyone smiled and nodded, except for the silver-haired man folding his paper and setting it aside.

The man gave Gabriel a small, knowing smirk. His blood went cold. He tried again, probing the man's mind—just a squabble, no one hurt, nothing to see….

It felt like he'd smacked against a concrete wall. Gabriel inwardly winced, resisted rubbing his temples from the small spike of pain.

Fine. Gabriel let loose all his powers and sent them barreling into the man, like spraying him with a shotgun blast. The silver-haired man rubbed his head and dropped his gaze.

Satisfied, he went into the kitchen and gave Jay instructions to deliver the Harley to his island home.

Gabriel slid behind the wheel of the Expedition, glanced at the terrace. The silver-haired man was eating his breakfast.

The sun beamed strong and bright on the shimmering pavement as he drove away. Air conditioning blew through the vents inside the vehicle. When his cell rang, he fished the phone from his pocket.

“Robichaux,” he stated.

“Whoa, you sound serious.”

Gabriel glanced in the rearview mirror at his cargo. “Something unexpected came up. Have to cancel.”

Silence hung in the air. Then Raphael spoke again. “Just as well with me. The rest of us couldn't see all that time for male bonding when we'd be gone from our mates and Alex. Well, Alex is seeing someone. Finally.”

Joy and dismay collided together. Gabriel's hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Who? She's not…a Shadow, is she?”

“No, she's regular Draicon.”

It was about damn time his older brother had some happiness. Alex had been grieving for his mate and child for the past three years. Ever since…

My fault,
Gabriel thought, feeling the familiar sting of guilt.
All my fault.

No time for the luxury of grief. “I'll be on the island for a few days. Contact me on an emergency basis only,” he said.

“Ah, got it.” Raphael sighed. “I thought you were done with this, Gabe.”

“I was, until I got a call from Jay. No one else in the area is available so I have to deal with this case. There are kids involved, two little girls.”

His brother cursed softly. “Everything okay?” Raphael sounded worried.

“Nothing I can't handle.” Gabriel thumbed off the phone.

His grin died as he glanced again at the rearview mirror. Gabriel maneuvered the SUV into a grocery store parking lot. He pulled into a space, left the engine running. With its darkened windows, no one could see inside the Expedition.

He powered up the small laptop sitting on the dash. Gabriel typed commands and called up the necessary information on his new adult charge.

Megan Moraine. Single, age 26. Reported missing from the island five days ago, with twin sisters Jennifer and Jillian Sullivan, her cousins. Grandmother deceased one week from natural causes. Suspect last reported seen in Naples, Florida, and is Halfling, but extremely clever and dangerous. Twins are full-blooded Shadow and considered lethal. Use of extreme force in apprehension is approved.

Lost in thought, he switched off the computer and glanced backward at the sleeping Megan. His chest felt hollow as he studied the twins. They were too thin, pale and looked totally defenseless.

“You're safe,” he murmured. “Sleep now,
mes petites.
”

His gaze slid to Megan. If Megan Moraine discovered his secret, he was screwed. He'd just have to make certain she never did.

To her, he was the enemy. For their own safety, she and those precious little ones must keep believing that lie.

If anyone found out otherwise, they'd all be on the run. For their very lives.

A
monster stalked her dreams, a snarling beast on two legs with red eyes and fur dark as midnight. “Trust me, Megan,” it grated out as blood dripped from its sharp fangs. “I won't hurt you.” But she was terrified because she knew it would drag her back to the island prison and laugh as it raked its claws across her cold skin so she would die slowly in agony.

Megan awoke with a small cry.
Just a dream. It's just the same dream you've had for years. Snap out of it.

Someone wanted her dead. The threat lingered in the air like wood smoke. A dark-haired, handsome stranger with eyes that flashed amber; a walking, talking epicenter of lethal grace.

Gabriel Robichaux.

Cringing, she took a deep breath, expecting to be tied to a cold steel table, a metal tray of sharp instruments nearby.

But the surface beneath her was soft. Megan lifted her legs. No restraints. She was lying on a bed facing a bank of windows overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Fingers of crisp white clouds streaked the sharp blue sky.

No purple tunic and matching pants, either.

Delicious smells of frying bacon came from downstairs. It enticed and cajoled. Food, she needed food, her head ached from hunger, the hollow pit in her stomach demanded energy.

She looked around. The cheerful powder-blue-and-lilac bedroom had a white bamboo dresser, glass-topped table and two
chairs with floral prints. Megan touched her head, trying to get her thoughts squared.

“You never ate your breakfast, so I fried eggs. I advise you not to skip another meal or you'll fade into nothing, and not just because you're a Shadow Wolf,” came a deep, laconic voice from the doorway.

Tensing, she sat up, fists ready to strike. Now she remembered. Gabriel had hypnotized her into sleeping. Panic squeezed her insides.

“Where are they?” she demanded.

He leaned against the doorjamb, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of faded jeans. Rolled up at the sleeves, a blue chambray work shirt displayed his strong, tanned forearms. His feet were bare. A black cowboy hat tilted over his brow. “On the table, getting cold.” In his deep Louisiana drawl, “table” was pronounced “tay-bull.”

She threw back the thick duvet, swung her legs over the bed's side. Her feet touched soft carpeting. For a moment, she wriggled her toes, basking in the luxury. Megan struggled to fight the dizziness. “My cousins. What did you do with them, you bastard?”

“They're fine.”

“If you hurt them, I'll…” The threat was empty, and they both knew it.

“Is this part of your torture technique? Keep us separated, make me think the worst? Why not just kill us and get it over with?”

A frown dented his forehead. “I don't torture Shadows,” he said mildly.

“Cousin Megan!” Two miniature tornadoes flew into the room and bounded on the bed. They crashed against her.

Hiding a wince at her sore arms, she held them tight. “Are you okay?” She smoothed back their hair, studied their expressions.

“Gabriel made us bacon and eggs and sausage,” Jenny said, glancing shyly at him.

“And toast with orange marmalade.” Jilly burped. “'Cuse me.”

Gabriel made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, but looked indifferent. Masking her anxiety, Megan smiled at the girls. They wore identical pairs of bright pink shorts and pink scoop-necked shirts. On their feet were new cuffed socks and sneakers.

Megan touched a corner of Jenny's shirt. “Where did you get these?”

“Gabriel had his housekeeper buy these for us. No more purple uniforms,” Jenny told her.

“Gabriel took us here to his island to keep us safe,” Jilly told her.

Megan tightened her grip on her niece. How could she tell her that Gabriel had abducted them? In some ways, her young nieces were still innocent, despite the island's harsh living conditions. She didn't want to scare them.

Instead, she gave a reassuring smile and changed the subject. “Did you get outside and see the Gulf of Mexico?”

If the girls had explored the island, she could figure out how to access the mainland and formulate an escape plan.

“Gabriel took us to the beach and we found some seashells by the water, but he didn't want us to go far,” Jenny piped up.

She hid her disappointment.

“I wanted to check on Megan. We can go out later, Jenny,” Gabriel said.

Jenny beamed. Megan studied her enemy, shocked he had discerned the difference between the girls. Few could tell them apart.

She had to regain her strength. Somehow, there was a way off this island, and she would find it. Megan braced her hands on the bed. Going to do this, must do this. She managed to stand, but her knees gave way. With an involuntary cry, she fell back onto the bed. Oh this was bad, so very bad.

Eyes wide with fright, the twins stared. “Cousin Megan?” Jilly's voice trembled.

Gabriel detached himself from the doorway. He flashed a winsome smile at the girls. “Jenny, Jillian, why don't you go into the playroom while I have a little chat with your cousin?”

Dread pooled in her chest as the girls scrambled away.

He gave her a critical once-over. “When did you last eat?”

Her stomach growled a protest. “I'm fine.”

“You're weak and dangerously low on energy,” he countered, his gaze sweeping over her. “Where were you hiding out?”

“Rio. You know, de Janeiro in Brazil. I had a hankering for a mojito,” she shot back.

He rubbed his temple. “Tell me.”

The command was soft, threaded with steel. She felt compelled to obey. “Couldn't get here right away, had to diffuse the trail. Spent three days in the Bahamas first…lived off fish, the girls did…I gave them my share, couldn't catch much, had to lie low. Hitched a ride with a fisherman headed to Florida.”

“Then how did you use up all your energy?”

Gabriel was a mind manipulator, able to coax hidden thoughts from reluctant victims. Horrified at how easily she'd confessed, she mustered her strength and bolted for the door. He hooked her around the waist. “Easy,” he muttered. “Relax,
chère,
I'm not going to hurt you. But I will have answers.”

Megan sagged in his arms. Her trembling hands couldn't grasp the doorknob. Pain throbbed from the rail spike hammering into her skull. Oh, the hunger was bad now, so bad, the craving for protein screaming its need.

Gabriel helped her sit on the bed. He picked up the cordless phone on the nightstand and dialed. He gave a crisp order for bacon, sausage and eggs and hung up, giving Megan a thoughtful look.

“Food first, then a hot shower. I'll ask Mrs. Hemmings to
find clothing that fits.” His heated gaze swept over her again, making her shiver. “You're a size twelve, right?”

Outraged, she glared. “I'm a size eight.”

A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. He'd tricked her. Again.

“How the hell did you let yourself get this bad?” he demanded. “Didn't you make plans, have supplies?”

Megan looked out the window.

“The truth, Megan. Why haven't you eaten?”

With all her might, she shuttered her thoughts. Instead of invading her mind, Gabriel ran a thumb across her palm. The electrical contact sizzled, creating a shiver of erotic awareness. Megan stared at his strong, tanned fingers. He turned over her hand, frowned at the reddened scratches on the back.

“You got jumped. Someone stole your money,” he guessed.

“The fisherman smuggling us off Shadow Wolf island demanded more money than we'd planned.” Megan yanked her hand away.

“You're a Shadow. Why didn't you just steal money when you got to the States?”

“I'm no thief.”

“Then I suppose the car with your scent all over it is a rental?” he drawled.

Color ignited her cheeks. “I put an envelope filled with money and a note in the door of the owner's home. It's worth more than the price of the Ford, which has leaky oil gaskets, bald tires and finicky brakes. I might be a Shadow—” she spit out the word “—but we have integrity. Unlike you Normals, who turn in your own people for money. Because we are Draicon, like you. Like it or not, that's a fact.”

“Normals?”

“Stop acting as if you have no idea what I'm talking about. Normals. What you ordinary Draicon call yourself, what you insist we call you. You think you're normal and we're not just
because we can perform magick before puberty, unlike you, and we can shift and become invisible, unlike you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “With our gifts, I'd say we're superior to Normals. Except I'm not racist. Unlike you.”

Amber glowed in his eyes. His wolf was emerging. As he raised his hand, Megan braced herself for the slap. Instead, he dropped his hand to her forehead, ran a thumb over the bruise.

“Some of us are anything but normal,” he muttered.

A brisk knock at the door announced the arrival of a cheerful, rounded woman bearing a wood tray. On the tray was a large china plate piled with food, silverware, a napkin and a tall glass of orange juice. Megan nearly moaned at the savory smells of bacon, sausage and fried eggs. The woman set down the tray on the nightstand, accepted Gabriel's thanks and left.

Megan picked up the fork. Plastic, she noticed ruefully. Not much use as a weapon. This Draicon wasn't a fool. She poked at the eggs.

“It's not poisoned.”

His voice, close to her ear, made her jump. Megan speared a sausage, turned it over. “Sure, right.”

“If I wanted to drug you,
chère,
I'd merely put you to sleep with a mind suggestion, like I did back at the restaurant.” Amusement laced his tone. His gaze grew stern. “Now eat.”

Her hands shook so much she could barely bring the fork to her mouth. Eggs spilled onto the tray. Embarrassed, she shuffled the food around the plate. Gabriel paced over to the window and stood before it. Megan quickly ate, then wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She drank the orange juice, feeling the throbbing hunger ease.

“Thanks for the food,” she managed to say.

Gabriel turned around. Shafts of yellow sunlight angled into the room, falling on him like a spotlight. Breath caught in her lungs. Denim jealously hugged every inch of his hard, muscled legs. He was gorgeous, with the face of a fallen angel, secrets
lurking in those swamp-dark eyes. The sheer sexuality felt like a blast of heat in the air-conditioned room.

She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over his firm muscles, splay her fingers on that hard chest, feeling his heart race with the same anticipation she felt.

He's a cold, soulless killer, she sternly reminded herself. Megan drew in a breath, inhaling a spicy, rich aroma, like expensive men's cologne. Instinct told her it was his own natural scent. Damn, he smelled good.

His knowing smile warned he knew she'd checked him out. Megan squashed her irritation.

“Can I take a shower alone, or are you playing guard dog outside the bathroom, too?”

“Through there is the main guest bath.” He pointed at a closed door. “Need help getting undressed?”

“I can manage.”

“I can wash your back,” he offered in a deep, laconic drawl.

Shivers raced through her. Megan envisioned herself in the shower, Gabriel running the soap down her back, gently caressing her slippery skin with his big hands, cupping her hips, pulling her against his naked body….

Not in this lifetime. “I always watch my own back,” she muttered.

“Watch or wash?” he asked softly.

“Both. Because I never know when someone's going to stick a knife in it.”

His gaze grew thoughtful. “I'll get the clothing for you. There are fresh towels and everything else you need in the bathroom.”

When she didn't move, Gabriel sighed. “Come on, I'll help you.”

As he grabbed her upper arm, Megan flinched. His gaze narrowed as she went to her feet.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

A violent trembling seized her. This was it, then. After all
she'd gone through, constantly moving to avoid the sexual threats, keeping herself pure because she had vowed never to give herself to a man unless it was done with love, it came down to this.

“Do you always molest your captives?” she bit out.

He was far stronger and bigger, but she'd go down kicking and screaming. And biting.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said, more gently this time. “Take off your shirt.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She struggled to lift the threadbare green polo shirt over her head. He helped.

In her faded bra, she hugged herself, feeling cold and exposed and vulnerable. But anger, not lust, glinted his dark eyes. His mouth compressed to a thin slash as he traced one of the purpling bruises on her arms.

“Who did this?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

“Megan, who hit you?”

Rather than have him yank it from her mind, she settled for the truth. “The fisherman on the boat that smuggled us to the Bahamas. Said he'd heard Shadow females were incredible in bed, and he planned to find out. He beat me and threatened to hit the girls unless I cooperated.”

Gabriel's breath eased out in a violent hiss.

“I made a deal with him. Said sex was better when Shadows weren't in physical form. If he could catch me while I was in shadow, I was all his. He liked the chase.”

“That's why you were low on energy. You were invisible the entire trip to the Bahamas.”

“I escaped at a cost. I thought I could make up for it by catching fish when we landed at the Bahamas, but the fishing was lousy and the girls were hungry. In addition to trying to molest me, the fisherman fed us only scraps.”

“You haven't eaten properly for five days. Damn,” he muttered.

Suddenly she felt drained beyond words. “Is show and tell over with now? Can I get dressed?”

Gabriel didn't say anything. He continued tracing the ugly bruises on her arms. His touch was gentle and oddly soothing, as if he wanted to erase her pain.