Growl (3 page)

“Weirder than swapping human skin for fur?”

“Okay, maybe not weirder, but definitely part of our package deal.”

“Just fucking great. Yet another aspect to our curse.”

At times, when he let alcohol render him nostalgic, Gavin missed his previous ignorance about the shapeshifting world. A world fraught with pain—because no matter what the movies showed, morphing into a different shape and growing fangs and fur freaking hurt. A world where secrecy was paramount, lest you wanted to push up daisies in an unmarked grave. A secretive life where even his own family could never know of the society that lived among them, viewing humans as little more than ignorant sheep.

Okay, that was more the vampire view, but there was no denying Lycanthropes and other specially enhanced beings saw regular humans as beneath them.

“Can you really still say you think it's a curse? I've seen the exhilaration in your eyes after a successful hunt. I know you use your keen senses to help you find clues other lawyers could never hope to find. Or are you going to still deny that what you've become has made you better? Stronger?”

“Fine. It does have some benefits.” A grudging admission. “But I refuse to believe that this virus, which changed us, also predisposes us to settle down with one woman. I mean, there are billions of people inhabiting this planet. No way can we expect some intangible force to decide there's only one.” Although, when he viewed it like that, it seemed he didn't have much to worry about. The chances of him running into this so-called one and only were slim to none.

“On the surface, I agree with you. It seems beyond far-fetched, but I've seen it too many times to ignore. Guys, like you and me, happily playing the field until one day we turn a corner, and boom, we run into her. I don't know how it works. Call it magic or dumb fucking luck. When it's time, you'll meet her and once you do…”

Gavin couldn't help but draw an imaginary knife across his throat and choke.

His buddy rolled his eyes. “It's not a fate worse than death. More like a relief because even if your urge to play the field disappears, at least the one you're fated to be with is not only allowed to know your secret, but somehow, the same magic that draws you together enables her to handle it.”

Capable of handling the fact that their boyfriends turned furry at least once a month and liked to chase things and bay at the moon? Or, in Broderick's case, yowl.

Impossible to believe such a crazy thing as a fated girlfriend or, as the old-timers called it, fated mate.

Gavin had pretty much forgotten about that drunken conversation, until he saw the woman.

The world had stopped. Something in him shifted.

Initially he tried to deny it, even as he chased her down and prevented her from escaping him. But one smell … One touch …

That was all it took for the jaws of monogamy to slam shut around him. Hear that? It was the pitiful whine of a man who knew his life was about to change.

Exaggeration? He wished. Case in point, he already noted a huge change in his behavior. He deliberately took Megan to a restaurant where he knew the waitresses wore low-cut blouses and slim, hip-hugging skirts that showed an indecent amount of leg. Usually Gavin would have admired the wares. Not tonight.

Tonight he could focus on only one person. A cute person. But still. Was he not even allowed to ogle and leer anymore?

And another thing, no one had warned him she might argue with him every chance she got.

Shouldn't she be simpering at me or batting her eyelashes?
Nope. Not his woman. Megan, who claimed innocence in the face of damning evidence, scowled at him.

“I thought the purpose of this dinner was to talk about my case.”

“I lied. We don't need to talk. I know all I need to know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I needed food, and you definitely needed food.”

“I wasn't hungry.”

“Says the liar whose stomach was growling louder than my neighbor's long-haired rat and who has since consumed not only a large salad, but a steak, a baked potato, and a gigantic slice of cheesecake.”

“It's rude to pick at your meal. I don't get what my eating has to do with anything. I thought we came here to talk about my case and to see if you'd take me on.”

Oh, he'd take her all right, he hoped sooner rather than later. This proximity to her was a special form of torture. “I already told you I'll handle your case. As to asking you more questions, what's the point until I have any pertinent ones? You've already admitted you didn't do it, so there's not much you can currently add to the situation. I will need to comb through the evidence and dismantle it to discover the true culprit.”

“So you believe me?”

“Would I be here risking my life against your deadly killer skills if I didn't?”

Her lips twitched as she fought not to smile. “You are deranged.”

“Thinking outside the box is not a bad thing in my line of work. Sometimes looking at things from a different perspective is what it takes to spot the thread that unravels a web of lies.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you always speak so melodramatically? I mean really. We're not in a courtroom, and you don't have anyone to impress.”

On the contrary, there was a lady he intended to impress, but unlike with the previous women of his acquaintance, his cultured veneer didn't seem to appeal.

Determined to regain control of the situation and throw her off balance for once, he tossed out, “Why are you single?”

“Who says I am?”

“Says the good-looking lawyer you're having an intimate dinner with.”

“First off, conceited much? Second, how do you know I don't have a boyfriend waiting for me at home?”

“Me, conceited? No. Merely confident enough to accept myself as I am. Also confident enough to state there is no significant other, else you would have called him at one point since our departure from the office. But not only have you not called or texted anyone; you haven't received any either.”

“I can see someone is a control freak when it comes to dating. Not all women are required to report their every move to a guy.”

“Is there a reason you feel a need to argue with everything I say?”

“You're a lawyer. Isn't arguing, like, your thing?”

“In the courtroom. Outside of it, I prefer more relaxed conversation.”

“So sorry. Perhaps I should start nodding my head and just agreeing with everything you say. Ooh, and asking you to tell me about yourself.”

He couldn't help a wide grin at her sarcasm. “That would be a good start. How else will we connect unless we get to know the intimate details?”

“Connect? You talk as if we're dating. We're not. I just met you a few hours ago. You're my lawyer, or maybe not. I'm really beginning to rethink this whole idea.”

“Ah yes, because you'd rather take your chances with your public defender, who has advised you to what? Oh, that's right, plead guilty.”

She glared at him. “He might have advised it, but it doesn't mean I would have.”

“Whereupon, I, on the other hand, will have you proclaim loudly your innocence.”

Innocent when it came to the crime, but by the time the case was over he'd work on licking the innocence from every inch of her skin. If he could last that long.

Ethics said he should wait until he'd absolved her before making his move.

Hormones and the ridiculous pull he felt toward her mocked his oath to the legal bar.

I will have you, and before the next full moon.

 

CHAPTER 4

“Surreal” didn't come close to describing her evening repast with Gavin. Megan had heard of slick lawyers with their legal talk meant to make your eyes roll back in your head. Met with a disinterested one who made her actually want to murder someone. Given her current experience, she didn't hold lawyers in very high regard, so she certainly never expected to lust after one.

I'm a grown woman.
And yet, much like a moon-struck teenager, she clung to Gavin's every word, trembled inwardly every time they innocently touched. Even worse, she couldn't help hoping he'd touch her more.

It completely and utterly annoyed her, yet she couldn't stem the reaction, but she could make sure things didn't go any further.

Once dinner was over, again he led her with a firm hand in the middle of her back. He held open the door for her and tucked her hand in his arm as he walked them to the parking lot. His courtly gestures didn't do anything to help her attraction.

Why can't he act the uncouth jerk?
It made it so much easier to dislike him.

Refusing a ride home wasn't an option, not when she lacked cab fare. However, she'd not counted on the intimacy of his two-seater sports car. Did he purposely brush her knee and thigh with his fingers every time he shifted?

Did it matter? The result remained the same; she shivered each and every time.
God, I hope he can't guess how he affects me.

Could she blame her extreme attraction on some kind of psychological syndrome? Wasn't there one that made women fall for men who swooped in like a hero promising rescue from a dire fate? In her case, was she mistaking her gratitude that he wanted to defend her as attraction?

Nah. Face it. The guy was hot. Handsome. Sexy. With a voice made for late-night radio and dirty words.

Or, even better, dirty acts.
It's been much too long since I've indulged in some naughty fun.

The purring engine shut off a moment after he pulled to the curb in front of her building. Miracle of all miracles, he'd managed to scoop a spot. Displaying, once again, an uncanny agility and speed that nagged at her, he somehow managed to make it to her side of the car within seconds of parking.

After opening the passenger door, he held out a hand to her, and as she clasped it she couldn't help a quiver in her lower belly as their flesh touched. Was it her or had he sucked in a breath? With a firm clasp of her hand, he aided her from the low-slung vehicle.

Once on the pavement, he didn't immediately release his grip, and she bit her lip, uncertain of what he expected from her. She'd meant what she said earlier. She wouldn't put out.
I'm not that kind of girl.

Her body, on the other hand, disagreed.
We could totally be that kind of girl, and enjoy it.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, even if it was the banal kind.

“You're welcome.”

“I guess I'll be hearing from you.” And probably dreaming, her imaginative sex life so much more active than her reality-based one.

“I'll be in touch tomorrow,” he said as he laced his fingers through hers and walked her to the glass door of her building.

“You don't need to escort me to my apartment. I am more than capable of seeing myself the rest of the way.”

“A gentleman always sees a lady home.”

“Are you always a gentleman?” she blurted out. She bit her lower lip a moment later at the implication he wasn't. He wasn't her family or a close friend to whom she could just speak her mind or, as her cousins complained, insult at every turn.

Instead of taking offense, he laughed, a low baritone that again set her nerves atingling. “Most definitely not. Most would actually compare me to the wolf.”

“Because you're wild?”

“Partially, but more because I'm a hunter. When I see what I want, I go after it.”

“And what do you want?”

As the elevator door closed, encasing them in a small space where she remained much too aware of him, he didn't immediately reply, but he did stare down at her, an intense gaze that had her dropping her eyes to study the scuffed floor.

A finger tipped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Would you run like a scared rabbit if I said I wanted you?”

“No, but I might hurt you in your man parts if you try to take liberties.”

A wicked smile curved his lips. “Is that a challenge?”

No. Yes.
Conflicted, she managed to stammer, “N-n-no, it's not a challenge. We need to keep things professional. Don't you lawyers have to swear some kind of oath about not sleeping with clients?”

“Who said anything about sleeping? But, in answer to your query, yes, we are ethically obliged to try and keep a distance and not engage in personal relationships. However, once I've acquitted you, all holds are off.”

“You're that confident you're going to win.”

“Yes. I rarely lose, especially when it's something I really want. So prepare yourself. Once I've cleared your name, I will pursue you. And we will become involved.”

Cocky. Self-assured. So utterly male … and sexy. But she was a modern woman. Surely she wasn't falling for his caveman tactics? How dare he dictate. “You make it sound so ominous. As if I don't have a choice.”

“You don't. Don't you remember what I said? I'm a wolf, and I always get what I want.”

The sound of a
ding
prevented her from replying, as did the swish of the elevator doors opening. Hiding her racing pulse and flustered thoughts proved easy as Megan stepped from the elevator cab and, with quick steps, marched to her door.

When she fumbled the keys to unlock it, his hand covered hers, which didn't help, not when such awareness flared between them.

The tumblers clicked, but she didn't open the door, instead turning to face him.

He stood close, much too close. It made her much too aware once again of the size of him, of the overwhelming maleness of his bearing.
What is the matter with me?
She'd dealt her whole life with imposing men. She'd never had a problem before putting them in their place.