Chapter 18

Gavin

I scented her arousal in the air. When Billie had burst into my cabin earlier, my wolf had risen to the surface, maddened to have the subject of Catrina brought up—unsurprising, given I'd focused on nothing else today. But just as quickly, Billie calmed my beast as she recited the pack rules, somehow softening the jagged edges in me with her calm, rolling tone.

Now, her wild perfume called to my wolf for a different reason. Her excitement stirred my beast's desire, and I felt as if Billie were the moon summoning me to her. I turned my heated stare on her, my pulse spiking at how she stilled as if she sensed the dominance roiling through me.

My heart punched my chest as her lust-filled eyes ensnared mine. The logical part of me thought of how I'd read about fated mates being driven by their beasts toward each other. But the rest of me felt as if I'd been set alight. Need beat through me, and I fixated on her mouth.

Her eyes became hooded. I couldn't hold back any longer. My lips swept the seam of her mouth. My kiss remained an airy touch as she seemed uncertain. But then she responded. Her hesitance wasn't reluctance, I realized, but inexperience. It seemed like this was her first proper kiss. Possessiveness rippled through me at the thought. My wolf delighted in the feel of her mouth beneath mine and her soft skin under my fingers as though he were tracing paths that had never before been tracked.

I drew my hand along her jaw as I kissed her languorously.

As we drew apart, she let out a breathy sigh and said, "That was–"

"What?" I asked, curiosity prickling through me as I wondered how she'd describe our first kiss.

"Better than Aislin's pancakes and syrup," she finished, her eyes twinkling.

I barked a laugh, bending down to kiss that delicious mouth again. "I won't tell Aislin," I promised, amusement and gruffness lacing my voice as I found her sweetness enchanting. I breathed in her scent, a mixture of balsamroot and fresh river water, thinking of how I wanted to lick and suck my way along every part of her as if she were a syrup-dipped dish.

"You better not," she said as she hit my chest playfully. Her neck and cheeks flushed, whether from the idea of me telling Aislin about what we were currently doing or from the feel of my chest, where, I noticed, her palms still lingered as if she were enjoying the hardness of the muscle beneath my shirt.

I couldn't help marveling at how natural this felt. A sense of rightness beat through my chest as I held her delicate frame in my arms. She was as slender and graceful as a fae, and I imagined her lithe form wandering through the woods. Desire rippled through me as I thought of her standing naked in the woods the other night and realized that's exactly what she'd looked like—a fae princess.

I ran my fingers through her sandy hair. Like her skin, I relished its softness. A mixture of incredulity and regret spun through me. I'd rejected this woman. I couldn't believe I'd likened her to an elk or thought her mousy.

The way she'd burst into my cabin, determination setting her features and infusing her tone before even greeting me, had been the opposite of my first impression of her. But, saying that, there was a tenderness about her. Like last night when we'd sat by the fire together, and she'd expressed concern about my wound, and earlier when she'd soothed me by admiring my father's handiwork again. I stared into her bright green eyes, which were full of warmth and hopefulness.

But reality came crashing back as my phone rang in my pocket. I let go of Billie, fishing out my mobile from my back pocket. The caller ID flashed with the name, Douglas. And just like that, Joseph's death and Catrina's disgusting crime darkened my thoughts.

"Damn, I've got to take this." I looked at Billie, truly sorry to lose this moment with her.

She nodded in understanding. "I'll see you later."

My wolf rumbled inside me as she went to the door, as if he didn't want to let her out of our presence.

But business called. As I answered, my expression hardened, "What you got for me, Douglas?"

Douglas was a vampire scientist from Denver. Vampires were, generally speaking, werewolves' natural sworn enemies. But there was no hard and fast rule. After all, dragons were the natural allies of werewolves, but my personal experience meant that I would never consider an alliance with their kind.

Besides, Douglas was a professional who hired out his vampiric skillset, which he paired with his work as a forensic scientist. He'd been the one who'd pointed me to the scientific papers that identified the hormone responsible for the loss of control with my wolf lately.

Douglas's steady voice sounded on the other end of the line, "I picked up DNA from both fur and saliva from the wounds on the subject's throat and beneath his ribcage."

Douglas had gone to the undertakers in Dalesbloom town earlier this morning. He'd been able to glamour the human undertaker, as well as the werewolves on guard duty, to be unaware of his presence. I'd seen Douglas exemplify his ability when I'd first hired him for a job a few years ago. His form and presence had melted away from not just my vision but the rest of my senses as if he were a specter. It had been damn spooky and damn useful.

It was only the domain of the very powerful and, generally, older vampires who could glamour other supernaturals, an ability that was highly sought after and, therefore, cost a bomb. My stomach tightened at the thought of the bill, but I told myself again that finding the truth about Catrina's crime was priceless.

He'd gotten samples from the corpse, which I'd hoped with DNA evidence would show who had committed Joseph's murder.

Of course, Douglas needed some sort of fiber containing Catrina's DNA to confirm whether that found on the corpse was a match. Luckily, this morning, when I'd received the news about Joseph, I realized that I still had Catrina's hairbrush that she'd left in a drawer the last time she'd stayed over. I'd bagged some hairs from the bristles so that Douglas could run their DNA sequence and see if the two samples matched.

"It matches," he confirmed.

My heart crashed in my chest, and I gritted my jaw as a fresh wave of anger hit me with this confirmation.

"Thank you, Douglas." With resignation weighing me down, I added, "Send Oslo your invoice, and he'll sort payment."

"Thanks. See you around, Gavin."

When I hung up, the realization that the woman I'd spent the last few months dating was a vicious murderer continued to send fresh waves of nausea through my body. I paced into the living room, barely seeing my surroundings as I contemplated this news.

When Billie had raced in here earlier to talk about why Catrina had Joseph killed, she'd believed it was so that she'd be awarded someone else as her fated mate.

But since Catrina had killed Joseph herself, she'd never have such power. Vana wouldn't grant her another mate. There had been other sordid incidents throughout werewolf history where similar crimes had happened. Whenever it had, the goddess hadn't granted the werewolf a new mate.

I thought of the ferociousness of Catrina's wolf and the way she'd leaped at Billie in the woods, going for her jugular vein. I wasn't really shocked that she'd murdered Joseph herself. She'd wanted to take Billie's life, and deep in my bones, after hearing her contempt as she'd spoken about Joseph, I knew that she'd wanted to watch the life drain out of him.

But the telepathic connection that she could have had if she'd embraced their relationship would now never be attainable to her. A pair of fated mates with such a connection were the most powerful in any hunt, as they were able to work from a distance as if they were side by side.

But as I brooded on the fact that she wouldn't ever have that power, I knew that wasn't the one she was going for. Her contemptuous voice plagued my memory again. "…you've got great power within your grasp, but you'll never do the deed necessary to claim it."

The power Catrina sought was of the darker kind. The kind that suited a woman who had murdered her fated mate, who had tried to take the life of her adoptive sister, and who would think nothing of killing and harvesting a unicorn's horn. I knew in my depths that that was what Catrina was plotting. She planned on undertaking the ritual with the horn to harness her Lycan form.

The walls seemed to press in around me as my blood curdled at the thought. It was only a matter of time before Catrina camefor Muriel. The memory of David's cold, furious face when he'd threatened me the night I'd accused him of stealing Billie from Grandbay rippled through my mind, too. Hyper-alertness stole through me as I realized our enemies were circling and that the net was tightening around us.