Seduced by a Shifter Page 19

  Willow gasped, turning and trying to see, yet terrified she’d see something horrifying. “Did it get hit?” Oh God, oh God, oh God! Ben, please be okay!

  “You’re seriously concerned about a dog?” Tom was incredulous, looking from her to the wicked gun he had trained on her.

  Willow bit her lip. “I’m worried about all God’s creatures.”

  “Weird.” Tom shook his head.

  “So, ah. How did you find me?” Anything to take her mind of Ben’s possibly broken and bloody body.

  Marg lifted her chin forward. “Stephen here is Tim’s uncle, your partner at the community center. The boy has a serious crush on you. He uploaded some Christmas photos from his phone onto his Facebook account, and though your hair was short and brown at the time, your big blue eyes made Stephen curious.”

  Fabulous. Outed by Facebook.

  “Speaking of phones.” Marg yanked Willow’s purse from her grip.

  “Hey!”

  “Let’s see what we have here.”

  By now they were passing through the edge of town, not toward the city of Togan, but toward Denver. Buildings became sparse as the forest took over. Soon they were alone on the road, apart from the occasional vehicle heading toward Woodcliff.

  “A phone. How ordinary.” Marg wiggled it between two fingers. “Think this has a bug?” Willow knew it had a tracking device on it. Scott had told her. “So do I.” Cold air blasted them as Marg opened the window and tossed the cell phone out the window.

  Willow only gritted her teeth and Marg continued to paw through her purse.

  “Lip gloss. So not my color.” The tube followed the phone out the window.

  “Stop that!” Willow tried to grab her purse, outrage at the loss of her belongings temporarily overriding her fear of the situation.

  “Nu-huh.” The damn gun again.

  “Fuck, it’s cold.” Up went the window and Willow slumped back in her seat, helpless to do anything but watch the bitch continue to rifle through her bag. Down went the window and out went her small manicure set. Up went the window.

  By the nasty smile on Marg’s lips, Willow realized the woman was enjoying this slow and senseless torture. Each time the window went up, Willow might think the rest of her possessions safe, then down the window would go and another item was tossed.

  Every item in her purse—minus the eighteen dollars Marg pocketed—were tossed like garbage onto the pavement, until nothing was left.

  “Could be a tracking device in the purse itself.” Tom offered.

  Marg’s eyes went snake-slit as she looked from her henchman to Willow. “Hmmm. See why I keep them around?” She kept her gleefully maniacal gaze on Willow as she tossed the whole bag out.

  Willow jerked her face forward, refusing to give the other woman anything. Then it hit her and she had to bite her lip from laughing out loud.

  Ben was a tracker, a wolf. His sense of smell was a million times stronger than a human’s and Marg—stupid, idiotic, hateful witch—had just left him a long line of breadcrumbs.

  Unfortunately, they were now out of breadcrumbs. Now what?

  “We’ve got lights behind us.” Stephen said.

  “No matter. The side road’s just ahead,” Marg replied.

  “Where are you taking me?” Willow whispered once they turned onto a dirt road, staring at the surrounding forest with dread. She’d thought they were going to Denver.

  She wanted to live to see Denver.

  “A nice older couple rented their vacation home to me,” Marg replied with a little smirk that didn’t bode well.

  “Rented?”

  She shrugged. “They won’t be needing it again.”

  Willow tasted bile.

  All too soon they pulled up, not to a cabin, but a mobile home. Trees grew tall throughout the property, something the homeowners must have enjoyed as they built the covered front porch around one.

  “Out,” Tom ordered. The cold sliced deep as Willow slid from the vehicle. She crossed her arms, shivering, longing for her coat which was hanging over a chair back at the reception.

  “Wonder why Jack hasn’t called.” Tom commented.

  Marg looked Willow up and down. “Guess you were nothing but a diversion for your bathroom buddy.”

  Willow jutted her chin, yelling in her head, I’m more than a diversion, you bitch. I’m his mate. But she kept her mouth shut.

  Stephen wanted an explanation of that comment and when Tom told him where they found Willow, the driver licked his lips and ran a hand over his crotch. Willow thought she might have vomited a little in her mouth. Stephen was so fugly that prostitutes probably put a bag over his head.

  “Dammit, Stephen. You disgust me,” Marg snapped. “If anyone gets Willow, it’ll be me, but unfortunately we don’t have time. Just grab her and let’s go. It’s too cold to prolong this.”

  Oh yeah. Willow was going to hurl. Thank God Marg wanted her dead sooner rather than later, because she just might tell Tom to pull the trigger if the old crone came at her with lust in her eyes.

  A flash of anger crossed Stephen’s face before he took hold of Willow’s arm. Ah. Dissension among murderers. Lovely.

  Fugly steered her after Marg and they wound deeper into the forest, Tom taking up the rear. After several minutes Marg halted and looked around. “I thought this was where you dug the grave.”

  Willow guessed that would be her grave. She looked around with wide eyes, not seeing any big, empty pit. Everything looked the same to her.

  “Nah, it’s over there.” Tom pointed with his gun.

  Fugly squinted, trying to see. “You sure? I thought it was back that way.”

  Willow looked up at the stars. Great. She’d been abducted by the Three Stooges.

  “I fucking told you to set up a flag or something.” Marg cursed her men out. “Incompetent fools.”

  They turned around and tramped for several more minutes over fallen logs and winding around bare trees heavy with the latest snow fall. Apparently Marg had enough because she came to an abrupt halt. “That’s it. I’m done searching. Kill her now and just leave her body to the animals.”

  A wolf’s howl broke the silence, long and mournful. It was followed by another wolf, and another. Then came the eerie sound of a seriously pissed-off cat, and Willow wasn’t thinking a tabby.

  Oh. My. God. Rome. Rome’s not a wolf, he’s a cat. Ben called him a cat back at Kaylie’s place.

  Her stunned brain was still coming to terms with that news when her heart soared light and free. Ben was coming for her. They all were!

  Willow gulped and tried to step back as Tom turned his gun on her, but Fugly tightened his grip. Safety minutes away, she struggled in earnest, not to break free but to keep Stephen between her and Tom’s gun. She also screamed bloody murder, remembering belatedly that her scent would travel through the air, and with any luck, lead the wolves straight to her.

  “Shit, woman. Quit your wailing. You sound like those damn coyotes.” Marg wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  Willow shot the woman a death-ray glare that would make Tess proud. “Not coyotes, you dumb bitch. Wolves.”

  Marg’s mouth dropped in shock. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that. Gaping like a fishmonger she said, “That’s it. Tom.”

  In that split second Willow wished she’d told Ben she loved him. Loved him so much that her heart ached with it. She loved his charm, his personality, his wit and, yes, even his wild, furry side. And now she never would.

  She sucked in a breath to scream when two lethal black streaks blurred out from the corner of her eye, her vision suddenly sideways as she was ripped out of Stephen’s grip and shoved onto the snowy ground. Something heavy lay on top of her, snarling and snapping. Breathless, she turned her head—to peer around a large tan paw.

  Marg stood alone, her mouth open wide in horrified shock. Tom laid at her side, motionless, a large black leopard standing over him, roaring out in victory.

  Swiveling her head the
other direction, she saw a huge black wolf doing the same with Stephen. God she hoped whoever the black wolf was didn’t catch any disease from the henchman.

  She tried to look up. “Ben?” At her soft whisper the snarling stopped and a big, moist tongue swiped across her cheek. “Ew.” He chuffed and boinked her face with his wet nose, as if assuring himself she was fine. “I’m okay. Really. Just wouldn’t mind breathing.”

  Ben eased off enough so Willow could sit up, gasping in lungfuls of air, his amber eyes ever watchful as he scanned everyone around them. Willow now saw Caleb behind Marg, Brandon, his best man and one of his deputies, at his side. Both were not only still dressed in their tuxes, but looking hot and sexy as they handcuffed Marg.

  “Marg Valens. You’re under arrest for kidnapping, attempted murder, and so many other things—including pissing me off—that I can’t begin to list them.”

  Willow leaned back onto a hard fur-covered chest. If Caleb were here, that meant—

  “You bitch!” Tess stomped over the ground, her wedding dress hiked over an arm.

  “Probably be better to give her to the wolves.” Brandon chuckled.

  Barreling down on Marg like an avenging angel, Tess drew back her free arm and slammed her fist into the other woman’s face. Willow gawked as Valen fell like a downed tree. Even as Tess shook her hand she turned around to look for Willow. “You good?”

  Not only had Ben come for her, Rome, Caleb, Brandon, and God, Tess. In her wedding dress!

  Willow started to laugh. “God, I love you.”

  Tess eased, a happy smile curling her lips. “Me too.”

  Other people started to show including Scott, Joe, and two police officers actually in uniform. One of them was Zan, who carried clothes in his hand. Willow felt the air thicken and tingle before she caught a glimpse of a naked male body.

  Was that Dean? But Ben rounded on her, pushing her back to the ground with his large body so that all she saw was a big, furry, tanned head. He gave her another slow lick along her cheek and she reached out with both hands, grasping the thick fur on his neck. “And I love you, Ben. But we really need to talk about those wolf kisses.”

  Epilogue

  Ben had given her a week. One short week to figure it all out. Though family and friends had called throughout those seven days, Ben phoned her at least once every day to check in, to tease, to tantalize. And to drive her absolutely crazy. She missed him so much and each conversation only made it worse.

  How was she to think about her future when all she thought of was Ben?

  The first several days flew by as she was reunited with her adored father, who broke down into sobs of joy when he saw her very much alive and well. Updating each other on what had happened over those missing months filled the beginning of the week.

  The fourth and fifth days were filled with the news that Valen and her men were immediately charged with kidnapping and attempted murder of Willow, and murder in the first degree of the elderly couple whose vacation home they’d “rented”. The defense had angled for mental incapacity as Valen appeared disoriented and had screamed uncontrollably at the wolf statue just inside the courthouse foyer. While the two men also in custody hadn’t screamed, they had peed their pants. The third man, the one who’d stayed behind at Tess’s wedding, was missing, and Willow didn’t care to know what happened to him. She did learn from Ben, however, that she would never have to worry about any of them again.

  The night before she left Woodcliff she’d warned Ben she would keep no secrets from her father. So on the sixth day she told the first man she ever loved about the man who now held her heart. Ian’s reaction was disconcerting, to say the least. Instead of reaching out for the phone to contact the nearest psychiatrist, he appeared shocked—understandable—then laughed in utter delight—not so understandable.

  Then it became Willow’s turn to listen to a story, this one about her great-grandfather, who disappeared into the magical mists and lush green valleys of Ireland after seducing an unwed woman. A woman whose child, Willow’s paternal grandmother, left her homeland to seek solace and anonymity from the veiled whispers and shaming looks.

  A descendant of a faery? Yeah, right. There was no such thing.

  Just as there was no such thing as a werewolf?

  Whoa.

  On the seventh day Willow paced her father’s apartment on tenterhooks, rubbing her palms over her long skirt. Her father, bless his wonderful heart, kept everything of hers he could possibly stuff in his own three-bedroom condo. Minus a few worn pieces of furniture she’d bought secondhand, it was all here. Clothes, books, awards, pictures, knickknacks, a bookcase, and even her bedroom set.

  Ian Yancy was an incredible man.

  The doorbell rang and Willow breathed deep, tugging the hem of her long-sleeved shirt before walking over to let another incredible man into her life.

  “Hey.” Ben was all lazy, sexy male. A feast for her adoring eyes.

  “Hey, yourself.” Her first inclination was to jump up and wrap herself around him like ivy. But she hesitated, trying to gauge his reaction at seeing her again. After all, he’d never told her he loved her back. It was the only piece holding her back.

  A door cracked open across the hall and an elderly woman stuck her head through the narrow gap. “You okay, Willow, honey? I got the police on speed dial.” She waved the phone like a sword under her second chin.

  “No, Mrs. Crenshaw. Everything’s just fine.” Several people in the building knew what happened to Willow, and they now took a special interest in her safety. Sometimes Willow got the feeling they were waiting with bated breath for something else to happen so they could get in on the action.

  She shook it off. “This is Ben Anderson. He’s my...”

  What, exactly?

  “Her fiance.” Ben turned that charming smile at Mrs. Crenshaw, who proceeded to preen and pat the curls in her white hair.

  “Oh. Such a handsome young man. Lucky girl.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” Ben looked deep into Willow’s eyes. Without waiting for an invitation, he nudged her inside and closed the door against Mrs. Crenshaw’s prying gaze.

  Willow walked backwards into the room, hyper-aware of Ben’s advance and the blatant hunger in his eyes. “Fiance, huh?” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  He tossed his jacket onto a chair, his lips curling into a lupine grin. “I didn’t think she’d understand the importance behind the words ‘my mate’.”

  She bumped into the wall, effectively halting her retreat. “So you don’t want to marry me?”

  “Oh, we’ll be getting married all right.” Ben came closer, pressing his heat all along her body. He laid his forearms against the wall on either side of her head. “I missed you, Will.”

  Her tongue darted out to lick dry lips. “Yeah?”

  His eyes flicked from her mouth back to her eyes, the dark depths of his pinned her in place, the feel of him surrounding her, melting her into a pool of goo. He was big and gorgeous, seductive and sweet—and all hers.

  “Oh, yeah.” He brushed his lips on hers. “Open your mouth.”

  “Wha-” His kiss was hot and sinful and deep. So deep. His arms didn’t move from the wall, but his wicked thigh wedged between hers, rubbing against the arousal between her legs.

  She yanked her head away, her hands pushing against his shoulder to get air. “How? The mating heat’s gone.”

  Another deep kiss. “Told you. The mating heat only ensures mates get together initially, then twice a year to continue the line. What you and I have is more than just chemistry, sweetheart.”

  Chemistry that was damn near combustible. She wasn’t sure if the top of her head was still attached. “What more do we have, Ben?”

  He nuzzled her temple. “Affection.”

  Her eyes started to close. “Affection?”

  “I love you, Willow Yancy.”

  Her eyes popped back open. “What?’

  He reared back, his eyes confused
. “I’ve told you I love you.”

  “I—I—” Her stupid mouth wasn’t working right. “When?”

  He looked at a loss for words. Then he rested his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry. I’ve told you so many times in my head that I thought I already told you out loud.”

  She reached under his shirt to twist the little bit of flesh she could grab. “Maybe if you’d told me before I left, I wouldn’t have been so crazed this last week.”

  Ben only reached down to take the hand abusing him and kiss each and every finger before holding it, palm open, over his cheek. “I love you so much that I could barely breathe when you were gone.”

  Ohhhhhhhhh. Mush. She was so much mush.

  “I want you home with me. In Woodcliff.”

  “A job—”

  He covered her mouth with his hand. “I don’t give a flying fig if you ever lift a finger. Just don’t ever leave me again.”

  She mumbled under his hand, prompting him to lift it. “What?”

  ”Dean called and offered me a job. As manager of your ‘hunting lodge’. It certainly won’t be much but then Josh called—”

  “Josh Renner? What the hell?” The amber she now knew signaled his wolf was close to the surface started to bleed into his eyes.

  “If you’d stop interrupting me, I could tell you.”

  Clearly unhappy, he clamped his mouth shut. Amused at him, she slipped her hands around his body to stroke his back under his shirt, knowing he needed the skin-to-skin contact. She needed it as well. “He called to tell me that one of their female physical ed teachers is pregnant. They’ll need a replacement within the next couple of months. Potentially permanently. She’s already hinting about not coming back.”

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of you spending so much time away from me.”

  She kissed the mulish set of his lips. “Just think of me as the extension of your eyes and ears for the pack, Ben.”

  His eyes brimmed with emotion, strong hands skimming down to curve over her butt. “Not my eyes and ears, Willow. My heart. You’re my heart.”