Motor City Wolf (7 page)

Greg’s arm wrapped around her as he pulled her closer in his sleep. Fianna felt her own body soften. What had happened could not be taken back. Perhaps the fates would be kind, perhaps not. Now, though, there was nothing she could do.

Just for this one night, she could let herself enjoy being held.

Well, that was about the stupidest-ass thing I’ve ever done.

Even with a condom, he should have waited a day or two, to be on the safe side.

In the wee hours of the morning, Greg leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at Fianna’s sleeping form beside him. The magnitude of what had happened, what he’d done, almost choked him. His hand tangled in the silk of her hair as he contemplated the ramifications of his colossal mistake.

His grandfather would have mixed feelings. Greg hadn’t gone along with his selection, and he hadn’t chosen another werewolf. Still, the old man would feel he’d won. There would probably be a mating ceremony before Christmas and a baby by the end of next summer.

You fucking idiot.

It was odd, though—he’d never swollen up that much. Was it his body’s response to her fertility? Just a fluke? Or had something in him recognized Fee as a potential mate? The thought of spending the next twenty years with her wasn’t as frightening as he’d expected it to be and he had a deep-seated feeling the die was already cast.

Holy hell, what was he going to do about that? An apartment above a bar in downtown Detroit wasn’t the safest or smartest place to raise a child. Wouldn’t the old man have a laugh if Greg had to break down and buy a house in the ’burbs?

He slid his hand along Fee’s flat stomach. There was no way to tell this early if she’d conceived or not. Her hormones and pheromones wouldn’t alter for a day or two, one way or the other.

Meanwhile, he wanted her again already.

As if sensing his need, she opened her eyes and reached up to cup his cheek. “Hello there.”

“Hello.” He bent down to kiss her, barely managing to keep it light. “Are you sore?”

Fianna stretched and shook her head. “Not much. I’m certainly ready for another lesson.”

Don’t do it.
But it was probably moot now anyway and his body was demanding more. He grabbed another condom in case it wasn’t already too late and rolled her on top of him. “I think this time it’s your turn to be in charge.”

“Are you okay?” Lana jumped up from the sofa in Fianna’s living room as Fianna emerged from her bedroom for their trip to the salon. “You’re not only late, but you’re walking kind of funny.”

Fianna grimaced. She was twenty minutes late, which wasn’t like her at all. “I’m a bit sore,” she admitted, “from the…err…cleaning, of course.”
From doing the dumbest thing ever—three different times.
The condom had broken the second time, as well. The third time they’d used their mouths on each other.

Lana laughed. “Honey, don’t try to lie to a werewolf about sex. Greg’s scent is all over you, even though I can tell you just took a shower.”

“You can
smell
that we had sex?” Fianna grabbed her purse and her jacket from the hooks by the door. Come to think of it, Greg’s grandfather had said something about that the night before. “Ewww.”

“You get used to it,” Lana said with a grin. “Makes it really hard for lupines to cheat on their mates, and in high school, everybody in the pack knows who’s messing around with whom.”

“That will put me at a handy disadvantage, now, won’t it?” Even though she was taller than the lupine woman, Fianna had to walk quickly to keep up with Lana, an endless bundle of energy. Besides, Fianna was too busy kicking herself to move that fast. What on earth had she been thinking, to agree to marry Greg? The whole idea was doomed from the start. Maybe, if the gods were kind, she wasn’t pregnant and it wouldn’t be too late to back out.

Lana snorted over her shoulder as they ran down the stairs toward the back door of the building. “Like you’ll have to worry about that with Greg. He’d cut his own dick off before he’d cheat. Once my cousin gives his word, nothing in the world will make him go back on it.”

“I know.” He’d be loyal and he’d respect her for the rest of his life. It was far more than she could have expected if her uncle or cousin had arranged a marriage for her Underhill. So why didn’t it seem like enough?

They walked across the street to the parking structure where Lana kept her little red sports car. Lana climbed into the driver’s seat and eased the powerful machine out into traffic. Over the last few months, Fianna had become used to the alternating urban decay and bright renewal that was Detroit, so she tuned out the outside world as Lana spoke.

“So I figured there are things you ought to know before we get to my grandparents’ tonight. Stuff Greg wouldn’t think to tell you because he’s
such
a guy.”

“Please.” Being duped into abetting a murderer had taught her to get as much information as possible before she acted. “What can I expect tonight?”

“Well, first of all, you’ll meet my grandmother. She’s kind of icy on the surface, but underneath she’s not too bad. She’s a bit of a snob, but I think you can handle that.”

Fianna nodded. “I think so. Nobody can out-snob the Seelie Court.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Lana smirked. “Let’s see, who else will they invite? Peter and Maurice were the two henchmen there last night and neither of them are ever far from Grandfather. Maurice is the older one. His partner David is pretty nice—you shouldn’t have trouble with them. Peter’s wife Samantha is a major suck-up to Grandmother, and can be annoying as hell, so watch out for her.”

“Got it.” Fianna was glad she had a good memory for this sort of thing. “And your family?”

“My parents should be pretty easy to deal with. Same with Aunt Irene—though I guess she’s really not my aunt, but my dad’s first cousin. Anyway, she and Uncle Max are Derek’s parents. He’s married to Katy, who’s Peter and Samantha’s daughter. That means she pretty much grew up with Greg and George—Peter lives right on the property, so he can be at Grandfather’s beck and call 24/7. Unlike her parents, though, Katy is a total sweetheart. You’re going to love her.”

“Your parents live near your grandparents, too, correct?” Fianna knew Lana visited them every few weeks.

“Not really. They live in Huntington Woods, about halfway between Grandfather’s West Bloomfield compound and here. My dad is a semi-dominant male, so he couldn’t live under the old man’s thumb, even if Grandfather wasn’t an abusive old bastard.”

“Greg said something about that.” Fianna bit her lip. Child abuse pushed all her buttons. Retaining her composure with the man would be a challenge. For Greg’s sake, she would try.

“Wow.” Lana shot her a glance. “He’s never even spoken a word about it to me—or George, I think. He bore the brunt of it, since the old man didn’t give a shit how the non-alphas were raised. But to him, young alphas require constant toughening up.”

She went silent for a moment, then continued, “To be fair though, I think he was partly afraid of losing Greg the way he’d lost Greg’s father. My uncle died because he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to another wolf who wanted his territory. When my uncle refused to fight, the other wolf called him a coward and simply had him killed. Unfortunately, my aunt was in the car when it blew up as well. Greg was maybe ten, so George would have been nine. They lived with our grandparents until they went away to college.”

“That’s terrible.” Fianna’s heart broke for Greg and George, left alone at such a young age—like herself. And just like her, they’d been left in the care of cruel relatives. She wished she’d done half as well for herself as they had.

“So back to tonight, the ones you want to watch are Maurice, Peter, Samantha and the grandparents.” Lana turned onto another major road, toward her favorite spa, housed in a downtown hotel. “Oh, crap. There’s also Peter’s younger daughter, Sofia—the one Greg was supposed to marry. She’s a total bitch, but I thought she was out of state, living the high life as a fashion model.”

Wonderful.
His supposed fiancée was a model.
Of course.
Fianna pondered a moment. “If this dinner goes badly, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Lana bit her lip. “Honestly? If Grandfather is too pissed off, we could all be exiled. I don’t think he’s ruthless enough to have you killed, but to be honest, I can’t rule it out, either.”

“Killed?” Fianna’s voice came out as a squeak.
Stars protect me. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“Don’t worry.” Lana reached across the car’s console to touch Fianna’s elbow. “You know Greg won’t let that happen. But it could mean we’ll all be on the run.”

“That’s such a comfort.”

“I know, but I really think they’re more likely to push forward with the wedding. That means you need to know about the mating ceremony. It kind of combines werewolf traditions with a modern, civil-service wedding. You’ll each cut your palms before the vows and the officiant—usually my uncle Max—will tie your wrists together so your blood mingles with his.”

“Not unlike a traditional handfasting,” Fianna mused. “Very well. Then what?”

“There’s one thing that’s the most important about lupine mating.”

“What’s that?” Fianna’s question was cut short as they pulled into the circle drive of the towering modern hotel.

Lana handed the keys to the valet as they stepped out.

Walking through the elegant lobby, Lana leaned over and whispered, “Werewolves, especially alphas, mate for life. Always. Once you go through with the wedding, Greg will never be able to let you go.”

“So have you heard
anything
from Vince?” Greg paced his office as he spoke to his brother on his cell phone. “He isn’t replying to his voice mail on either his cell or land line.”

“Not a word.” George paused a moment before continuing. “I’ve left him at least half a dozen messages in the last few days. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Greg gave the brick wall of the office a solid kick. He despised being helpless. “I wanted him there tonight, so Fee knows more than the four of us, but it looks like he won’t be.”

“I’ll keep trying to reach him.” George sounded as worried as Greg was. “You get a ring yet?”

“Actually I’ve had one for years. Our great-grandmother’s was left in the safe in the office, remember?” Along with a couple unregistered handguns and some Depression-era champagne smuggled in from France. They’d shared one bottle the night they opened the club. There were two left.

“Shit, that’s right. Did you bother to shave? Get your suit pressed?”

“Yes, Mom,” Greg replied. If George had been there, Greg would’ve thrown something at him. “I
can
clean up and behave when I have to.”

“Well, think about a haircut, Mr. Suave.”

“Nope.” Despite knowing he’d screwed up, Greg almost purred with pride. He’d been like that all morning, his emotions veering from terror to fierce delight. He sat on the edge of his desk and ran his hand through his hair for about the thousandth time. “Fee asked me not to. This morning. In bed.”

“Okay, I’m not even going to try to argue with that.” George’s bark of laughter rang sharp in Greg’s ear. “You did good there, bro. For what it’s worth, I’ll be happy to call her my sister.”

“Thanks.” Before Greg could say more, or make a fool out of himself with some sappy reply, or admit how stupid he’d been, the phone on his desk rang.

Even as he closed his cell with one hand, Greg was picking up the land-line handset, an old corded model, with his other.

“This is Sutton. I’m standing at your back door. Wanna let me in?”

Why the hell was Des here again? Something had to be bad. As soon as Greg opened the back door, he saw the troubled expression on the mage’s face. “What?”

“Another whole pack of werewolves was killed last night in Highland Park.” Des shrugged out of his long black duster and tossed it over one arm. “Thirteen men, women and children this time.”

“Fuck.” The news struck like a blow to the gut. Who the hell went around murdering kids? Greg blew out a long breath to steady his stomach and started back down the stairs to the club. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and struggled to keep his fangs from emerging. “Another fire?”

“Reported as an accidental gas explosion. Took out a block of four townhouses.” Des’s voice was icy with fury. His face was drawn and lined with fatigue.

“You want me to head over there, see if I can pick up any scent trails?” Not that Greg had time tonight, but for this, he’d deal with his grandfather’s anger.

“No, the place is already crawling with cops. Even I can’t get close, though I managed a drive-by. I don’t think there’s any magic involved. The arson investigation team is there, though.” Without asking, Des turned into the kitchen and started casting spells. Slowly, dents eased out of the major appliances.

“Thanks.” There was no way Greg could get close enough to scent track. “Do you have the names? I’ll notify my grandfather.”

Des rattled off the list of names as he waggled his fingers until a cabinet righted itself on the wall. After a few moments, he turned back to Greg. “Look, maybe you can help. You want to try slipping in after dark? Say midnight? Moon’ll be full tonight. I can pretend to be walking a big-ass dog.”

“That could work.” Any scent trails would be cold by then, but Greg might be able to pick up something. “I should be back by twelve. I’ll call you.”

“Good.” Des sent one more spell winging toward the smashed countertops and they both watched as the stainless steel smoothed itself back into shape.

Greg looked around at the repaired equipment. “Damn, thank you. I didn’t expect that kind of help, but I’m not going to turn it down. I owe you.”

“No.” Des shook his head. “You and your pack jumped right in to help my niece and I gave you shit about it. I’m the one who still owes you.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sutton?”

“Not enough sleep—that has to be it.” Des gave a wry smile. “That and a call from Elise, kicking my ass for not helping you more. She reminded me that my grudge against werewolves has nothing to do with you.”

“Wanna tell me what you have against my people?” It was something better to talk about—to think about—than dead werewolf families or his relationship with Fianna. Greg crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a chest freezer.