Page 28 of Taming the White Wolf
While his powers as a lone wolf would give him some immunity from magic, Zoe was human. Having a dark mage teamed up with wolves meant there wasn’t anywhere that was safe. The sexual attraction that sizzled between them added another layer of concern. As much as he hated to, he had to consider the idea it might have been “encouraged” by an outside source. Sex was a powerful force—for humans, wolves, and in magic. If possible, a dark mage would use that to manipulate them.
His wolf’s snarl of disagreement was reassuring. If he couldn’t trust his instincts, he was screwed. They were an integral part of who he was.
“No.” Zoe’s head was rocking back and forth. His preternatural hearing picked up a spike in her heart rate.
Damn it, she was caught in a nightmare.
Gasping, she bolted upright, arms raised to ward off a threat. Only the seat belt kept her from coming right out of her seat. Eyes wide, she swiveled in his direction and released a breath, like a tire deflating. She slumped back against her seat and rubbed her hands over her face. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe forty minutes.”
“Where are we?”
“Bronx.”
“Ah, what’s in the Bronx?”
“Safe house.” One he’d purchased with fake identification five years ago. He’d never been there. Had bought it sight unseen. A property management company dealt with the upkeep and leased it as a short-term rental, primarily to businesspeople who wanted more privacy than was offered by a hotel or who were in the city on business for more than a week or two. A maid service cleaned it weekly and after a renter vacated. The rent paid the mortgage and expenses.
He had dozens of such places in major cities around the world. Even though he stayed in hotels, it paid to be prepared. Shit sometimes went sideways on a job. This gave him a place to regroup. If the property was compromised, he sold it and moved on, pocketing the profits, funneling the money to himself through shell companies.
When he’d known he was coming to the city, he’d contacted the property management firm. Luckily, this one wasn’t currently being rented. The next tenant wouldn’t arrive for another week.
“You conjured a doctor who makes house calls out of thin air. You have a safe house. And let’s not forget you’re a wolf.” Her voice rose with each word she spoke. “What have I gotten myself into?” The last was whispered to herself.
He turned onto a residential street. Normally, he’d have avoided such a place, which made it the perfect hiding spot. That and the attached garage. He pulled into the short driveway. “Stay in the truck.”
The neighborhood was quiet. He scanned the area, satisfied everyone was tucked away in bed. He punched in the code to the garage lock, got back in the vehicle, and pulled in when it opened, glad to be out of sight. The door rumbled closed behind them.
The darkness didn’t bother him. He climbed out of the truck and went around to the other side. “Let’s get you inside.”
“I can walk.”
Ignoring her protest, he swung her into his arms. “This is quicker.” Another code into the house security panel and they were inside. Without stopping, he carried her through the kitchen and up the stairs to the master bedroom.
The king-size bed was inviting. He set her down on it. “I’ll get the bags, then we’ll talk.”
She nodded and toed off her sneakers. Hating to leave her for even a minute, he hurried back to the garage. When he stepped back inside, he reset the alarm. Not that he’d need it—his wolf would alert him to any intruders. But it was stupid not to use the technology available to him.
Loaded down with their belongings, he grabbed a couple bottles of water out of the refrigerator before heading back upstairs. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the woman asleep on the bed. She hadn’t crawled under the covers but had simply tipped over onto her side. Her face rested on the mattress about six inches from the pillows.
The circles beneath her eyes were more pronounced. Even sleeping, her brows were slightly lowered, her jaw tense. He set the bags down and put the water on the nightstand. He hated to disturb her, but she’d sleep better if she wasn’t wearing jeans. “Zoe,” he whispered.
Nothing.
Sighing, he cursed himself for being an idiot. After kicking off his boots and skimming off his socks, he reached for her. Pulled back. Reached again. “Just get it done.” He’d dressed her. He could damn well undress her. Not all the way. Just her jeans.
He was sweating when he reached beneath her shirt. He found the zipper easily enough. Heat radiated from her skin, along with the sharp scent of antiseptic. The brutal reminder of what she’d been through killed any lurking arousal, replacing it with determination and not a little rage at what had been done to her.
She squirmed when he eased her onto her back to make it easier to undress her. “Devlin?” The sleepy inquiry had his balls clenching.
Ignoring that and the stirring of his cock, he pulled at her jeans. “Let’s get these off you.”
“Mmm. ’Kay.” She kicked her feet, hindering more than helping. Several bruises were visible on her thighs.
He yanked the blankets and sheet down and lifted her so her head was resting on one of the pillows. Sighing, she nestled down, rubbing her face against the cool cotton. He should start his research on Pietro Cardelli. The rogue wolf was his best lead. He should also check into Zoe’s past. There might be something there she wasn’t aware of or didn’t remember. His laptop was in his bag. All he had to do was grab it and walk out the door.
Feet rooted to the spot, he watched her sleep.
