Scent of Darkness (11 page)

First and foremost, he could smell the passing storm, the spice of pine, and the richness of growth. Those odors came sweeping in through the broken window and permeated the whole house.

Within this room, he could smell the odor of the wolf pack; earlier, he'd carried it in with him. The feminine fragrance of Ann's body always lingered in his house; it was a pleasant undertone on every sheet of paper he brought from the office, on the briefcase she packed for him, and on the laptop she used. Yet now her scent was overlaid by her horror at seeing him change; it was that odor that had first spoken to his wolf senses and pointed him to her.

But no one else had been in here. At least—no one human.

He listened, extending the range of his hearing in increments. In the utility room, he heard Ann shut off the shower. He heard the hum of the water heater in the basement. Outside, he heard the brush rustle as the wolf pack circled the house.

All else was quiet.

He looked around his great room. He saw the magazines on the coffee table ruffled open by the wind through the broken window. He saw the paw prints he'd left on the hardwood floor, the shoes Ann had thrown at him, the drop of blood from his chest.

The woman had a good eye and a good arm.

He touched the burn on his cheek.

A very good arm.

Ann was the only intruder in this house today.

But
they
were coming.

His mother had had a vision. She'd been, not unconscious, but speaking words . . . not her own. Or maybe she'd been spouting her own premonitions. Or maybe she'd cursed them all. Hell, he didn't know. He'd never seen her do that before. He hadn't known she had the gift, if it could be called a gift.

The blind can see, and the sons of Oleg Varinski have found us.

The Wilder family files were intact. His house was secure. Nothing had changed.

But . . . everything had changed. Everything.

You can never be safe, for they will do anything to destroy you and keep the pact intact.

The pact. He knew about the pact.-How could he not? On that day when he had turned, his father had sat him down and explained it all. But to a thirteen-year-old boy who'd just discovered he could change himself into a beast of prey, who had just developed the coolest tattoo
ever,
who had a mustache made of five hairs on either side of his lip, the pact had meant nothing.

A thousand years ago? The Family Varinski? The most dreaded name in Russia? A deal with the devil?

Yeah, Papa. Sure. Cool Now I can stay out all night, because if I can do
this, I
don't have to go to school anymore.

He and Konstantine had had a loud, heated difference of opinion.

He'd gone to school the next morning. As long as he lived under his father's roof, never once had he skipped school, and only once had he stayed out all night long—and Konstantine had made him very, very sorry.

Because his father had been from the Old Country, from Russia, and his sons obeyed him, feared him . .. and loved him.

And you, my love. You are dying.

His mother had presented his father with a death sentence.

Jasha walked to the answering machine, its red light blinking fiercely, and listened to Firebird's voice say, "Papa is off the respirator and doing as well as
can be expected. The doctors still don't know what's wrong, but they definitely agree it's his heart. It's, urn, a rare condition. They don't, um, agree about it." Firebird's voice shook. "I overheard one of the nurses say it was a mystery and we'd be better off taking him to a witch doctor."

"Of course," Jasha muttered, and deleted the message.

Zorana loved Konstantine. Jasha knew that as well as he knew the stars rotated around the North Star. But three nights ago, on July fourth, due north had moved, and his mother had said things, horrible things. Jasha would never forget the sight of his mother's finger pointing at his father, cursing him with death and eternal damnation.

Her curse had been powerful—and instantaneous.

His fattier had stared at Zorana. His eyes had filled with tears. And she sprang toward him as he collapsed.

What had she imagined she could do, his miniature mother holding up his ox of a father? But she grabbed him, went down with him, stayed at his side when the fire truck from the county volunteer fire department showed up to take him to the local hospital, then on to Seattle and Swedish Hospital.

Jasha walked to the full-length windows and looked out at the view—at the cliffs along the wild coastline and the ocean, roiling with another incoming storm.

As soon as the doctors had declared that Konstan-tine was stable, Jasha had assumed the duties of head of the family. He had left Zorana, Firebird, and Rurik huddled around Konstantine's bed, and come here to check that the family's secrets—their assets, their immigration papers, their private information—were still locked in the vault downstairs.

Everything was there, hidden in his wilderness home guarded by the best security system money could buy.

The security system Ann had turned off and left off.

Had she done it on purpose? Had the Varinskis paid her to come here and betray him? Or, more likely, threatened her if she didn't?

"Hi, there." She stood in the arched doorway. His big, white, terry robe swamped her, and she held the lapels close to her chest. She'd pushed her damp hair back from her pale, bruised face. Red scratches etched her shapely legs, and her blue eyes were wary. But she smiled timidly with that kind of worshipful expression she wore around the office when she thought he didn't notice. "Is everything okay?"

"So far."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She would never betray him. Not without any sign of discomfort. If he was going to say a certain thing existed in this world, it was that Ann Smith was honest. Painfully, completely honest.

Besides, she adored him. He'd known it from the first time she stepped into his office; worship came off her in waves. Her infatuation hadn't affected her job performance, so it had been unimportant, sort of like a space heater giving off a low-level hum of warmth.

She limped to the foot of the stairs, so self-conscious, she tripped on the fringe of the rug. She winced, glanced to see if he was watching, then took a visible breath and asked, "Are you mad at me for coming here? I mean, obviously you weren't expecting me. ..."

"Or I wouldn't have been a wolf, you mean."

"Yes. That."

He shouldn't have gone out to run with Leader's pack, but he'd been reeling with shock and grief, and he'd thought,
What difference will it make this one time?

Now he knew.

If only he'd caught her scent sooner ...

"You asked me who sent me. And you said I was like the devil, and the illegal hunter, and your mother." Ann straightened and looked into his eyes. "What did you mean?"

"I was in a rage." Which was no excuse for what he'd done, but it was the only reason he had.

"You like your mother. Don't you?" Ann's face was forlorn with hope, like a child who'd been disappointed in love far too many times.

Who was she, this woman who had discovered the icon? He didn't know anything about her early life. It had never been important before.
Site
had never been important before.

"I do like my mother. She wasn't to blame for any of what happened. I don't know who was to blame." He spoke almost to himself.

"Then, are you mad about the Ukrainian deal? If you don't want to go through with it, Wilder Wines will be fine. Well have to postpone our expansion, but not forever. We'll find another company interested in taking our wines overseas."

"I know." And if he needed further proof that Ann knew as much as he did about the company, her assurance gave it to him.

He looked at her. Looked at her hard. Innocent? Yes. Unknowing? Yes.

But for all that, perhaps a traitor still.

She shivered under his gaze.

"You're cold. Go up to bed."

"Are you coming? I mean, to bed? You said you were, but . . . soon?" The wariness in her grew.

What a fascinating woman. She'd discovered his deepest, darkest secret. In a fit of rage and frustration, he'd chased her like prey, caught her, and mated with her without finesse, without a care to the circumstances or to her comfort. Yet while he terrified her, while the sex had been rough and new, nothing scared her like the prospect of being rejected.

'Til be up as soon as I get some plywood and cover the window." He gestured toward the entry.

"Of course. That's what you've got to do." She turned to climb the stairs.

He'd always felt a responsibility for his young, vulnerable assistant, but it had been the responsibility of an employer for his employee. He wasn't a man to underestimate the significance of the old symbols.

Each of my four sons must find one of the Varinski family icons.

Ann had discovered the icon. Ann had been a virgin. She had bled for him. She had responded to him. She was the key to his family's survival, and he would do anything to protect her.

For them. And for himself.

"Ann."

She looked back, blue eyes wide.

"Nothing could keep me away from you tonight."

Chapter 10

Ann heard Jasha come into the bedroom and wondered how every muscle in her previously relaxed body could tense so instantly. She opened one eye and checked to make sure the bubbles—she had used the jets to create a lot of bubbles—still covered her strategic parts. Because even though he had seen everything, and licked it, too, she wasn't ready to pose naked.

Lots of bubbles, but just to make sure . . . she flicked on the whirlpool jets again.

He stepped into the doorway. "So you like my whirlpool?"

"It's nice." Very nice. She was six feet tall, and when she stretched out as she did now, her toes barely touched the other end. The tub was almost as wide as it was long, with jets all the way around, and the rich caramel color matched the grout in the large copper tile surround. When she looked up at the skylight she saw the last swirls of cloud wiping the night sky clean, leaving the stars with freshly washed faces.

Of course, she'd known all this was here, drooled over the remodeling plans, hut seeing made it real. Seeing him strolling across the heated tile floor, his gait unhurried and predatory, made the whole strange day real, too.

Casually, she brought the bubbles toward her.

The currents pulled them away.

A little more frantically, she brought them back.

"Did you find the 'Who needs a man?' setting?" He looked down into the tub.

The bubbles kept escaping. "The 'Who needs a man?' setting? What's the . . . ?" A mental picture formed—her sitting with her legs in the air, getting off in the whirlpool, while he walked in. "No!"

"You should try it." He knelt beside the tub and stirred the water with his forefinger, and the way he looked . . . "The saleswoman gave me to understand it's quite satisfying."

"The saleswoman said that to you?" Ann was shocked at the strange woman's temerity. Shocked . . . and a little pissed.

"I believe she was offering to demonstrate it."

"What kind of professional behavior is that?"

"That's why I refused her kind offer." He looked solemn. "I wanted to wait and see if it works for you."

“I
would never ... I mean, not in yours . . ."

"But in yours?" He chuckled, and shoved the bubbles away so he could see into the water. "Why not? I loved seeing that expression of ecstasy on your face."

"You're
not
looking at my face." And she didn't know what to do with her hands. Put them over her breasts? But wouldn't that look as if she were playing with herself? Over her . . . ? No, that playing-with-herself idea went double there.

"Then why do I know you're blushing?"

"Because . . . oh, darn you!" She sank all the way down to her chin and sort of waved her hands beside her hips like some perverted mermaid. She knew good and well this heat just under her skin had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with Jasha's gaze on her body.

He undoubtedly knew it, too.

Which was why she blurted, "I would never betray you."

The amusement fell away from him so suddenly, she knew his rage was still simmering closely under his skin. "No. Not on purpose. But what brought you here?"

"Your engagement."

"My engagement?" He blinked as if .he'was confused, and flipped off the jets. "That was six months ago."

Dumb guy. What did he think had brought her here now? “When you asked me to shop for an engagement ring, I was so ... excited." She flushed. Man, this was embarrassing. "I thought you'd finally realized I was the love you'd waited for your whole life."

He kicked off his shoes and socks, climbed into the tub, and sat on the tile surround facing her. With his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her face. "I'm fascinated.”