Shadow Wolf Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Shadow Wolf

  ISBN # 978-0-85715-009-7

  ©Copyright Sable Grey 2010

  Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright January 2010

  Edited by Michele Paulin

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road

  , Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  SHADOW WOLF

  Sable Grey

  Chapter One

  Dean Rynes glanced back at the hotel room number with disgust. He could hear the sounds of sex on the other side of the door. It pissed him off.

  “Jesus, how long is it going to take?” one of the other guards mumbled, leaning back against the wall. Another laughed. There were six of them in all. Dean made seven. They weren’t wolves like him, but he’d worked with them for more than nine years, and they were the closest thing to a pack he’d ever known.

  “If I were him, I wouldn’t bother with these two bits,” Goldman murmured. “Not with a wife like that waiting at home.”

  Dean pressed his lips together. They’d heard him trying to dissuade the senator from this rendezvous. They’d heard him on more one occasion. Now, they all looked at him, waiting for his reaction to Goldman’s statement. He offered them nothing, glancing down the hall when someone stepped from the elevator. Mid-twenties male, almost white-blond hair, earphones perched atop his bobbing head. He smelled like burnt feathers. Dean watched him walk to a room and slide a card through the lock.

  “He’s going to end up being late for the convention,” Goldman growled.

  Dean’s gaze slid to the guard once the hallway was empty again, checked his own watch then lifted a hand and rapped his knuckles against the door behind him. His signal went ignored as the sounds of fucking continued within the room.

  He stretched his neck by tilting his head from one side to the other, watching the others fidget and yawn. They couldn’t hear the sounds in the room like he could. It was one of the perks, or in this case curses, of being a wolf. And none of them knew his secret. In fact, only one person knew, and that one was on the other side of the door cheating on his wife.

  At long last, he heard them finish up and lifted his hand to knock again. When the door opened, Dean turned and scowled at the Senator as he hurried to tuck his shirt into his trousers. His greying hair stood out in every direction.

  “I hope she was worth it, John,” Dean growled, glancing past the senator at the woman who remained naked on the bed. “We have forty-five minutes to get you to your meeting with the President.”

  “Just let me grab my shoes.” John turned to step back inside without closing the door.

  “You might consider a comb, as well.”

  One of the other guards snickered.

  Dean turned his back to the doorway when John fished a few bills from his wallet and tossed it to the nightstand next to the bed. He was grateful John never dallied after he was done with his women. And in less than five minutes, they entered the lobby on the first floor.

  “Stop scowling at me, Dean. It’s just a hooker.” John kept his voice low as they walked quickly through the lobby.

  “They are all just hookers, John.” As they stepped from the building, Dean retrieved a cigarette and a lighter. The end of his cigarette burned to life as John faced him.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  Dean blew out a breath of smoke. “You are pissing away your career and your marriage, John, everything you’ve worked hard for.” He shook his head. “And for what? Fifteen minutes of head?”

  John winced, his grey brow furrowing. “I just need to unwind sometimes at the end of the day.”

  “Most men do that in their own homes with their wives.” Dean glanced up at the night sky then tossed his cigarette to the side.

  “Leave Belinda out of it.”

  “She’s too good of a woman to lose.”

  “What would you know of it?”

  Dean grunted. “Enough that if she were my woman hers would be the only bed I would unwind in.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” John’s voice rose slightly.

  “It means that if you don’t take care of her, eventually someone else will.”

  “You?” John poked a finger into Dean’s chest. “I’ve seen how you look at her. I’ve not said a word, have I? You want to judge me and what I do, and you are no better than I.”

  Dean blinked and glanced at the others, but they quickly looked away, and his gaze slid back to John. “I have never… I would never…”

  “No but you’ve thought about it, so don’t give me this bullshit speech about how much of a bastard I am.” John crossed his arms. “I know my own wife. And she knows me. She’s not going anywhere. Besides, these women mean nothing to me."

  “And that makes it better? That you would risk losing her over a whore who only cost you twenty bucks?” Dean shook his head. “And while they might not mean anything, how many fucking affairs have you been caught in, John. A woman can only take so much before she breaks.”

  “Maybe if you’d been doing your job, that mess wouldn’t have been plastered all over the papers.” John turned on his heel. “I don’t pay you to…”

  Dean reached out and grabbed John’s arm, stopping his stride. “What did you say?” The other guards stared with wide eyes.

  For a moment, John looked angry then his expression softened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Fuck you if you did.” Dean let his hand fall away from John’s arm. “I don’t do this because of the money. I do it because we were friends once, John.”

  John inhaled then exhaled loudly, nodding. “We still are. But this… Just leave Belinda out of it.” John turned and reached forward to open the car door, without waiting for one of the others to do it for him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Take your nagging to someone else and give me a break.”

  The door closed behind him.

  “Asshole,” Dean murmured before walking around the car. The driver started the car, and an instant later, Dean heard a soft click.

  Spinning around, he lunged for the door. “John!”

  The air vibrated, and Dean was lifted off his feet and catapulted backwards as the car exploded.

  Chapter Two

  Dean stood in front of the window and tilted his head as his gaze swept the line of trees at the edge of the lawn. He heard the night sounds, but they seemed far away. His hearing had gradually returned over the two weeks since the explosion but was still not as acute as he was accustomed. The estate was crawling with secret service and security, but he could barely hear them out there.

  Glancing around the room, Dean winced
when his attention rested on the picture of John and Belinda. He didn’t know why he was here, why she’d requested him personally. John was dead. Goldman was still recovering in the hospital. The rest had perished in the explosion.

  Dean ran a hand over his face. It was his fault, and he’d have revealed that to John’s wife except she’d barely said three words to him since he’d arrived. Instead, it had been her assistant who gave him instructions on where he would sleep and details of Belinda Boutwell’s schedule.

  Dean hadn’t tried to approach her. She, as always, had had a frenzy of people around her for most of the day. But they’d all left after she’d retired. Now, the house was completely quiet. No, not completely, Dean amended and tilted his head. The soft pad of feet against the carpet found him.

  For the public, Belinda Boutwell was picture perfect. Her honey-blonde hair was always tied back from her pretty face. Her clothes were of the highest fashion, and she was a template of elegance and sophistication. But now, in her satin gown that slipped around her legs with every step down the stairs and with her hair hanging around her shoulders, she was close to godly in beauty.

  He stood in the shadows and watched her every graceful move while she made her way through the room to the kitchen. She passed right beside him, and her natural scent wafted through the air. He inhaled it deeply.

  The wolf smelled her, too, and Dean felt himself give in a little to hunger. He’d always had an appetite for sex. It couldn’t be helped. The wolf was caged inside of him, seeking any opportunity for freedom. Sex provided that. Dean tilted his head and breathed in again. He could smell her sex, soft and feminine.

  It wasn’t until she hit the kitchen light and the flicker interrupted the darkness that she jerked around to stare at him. “I didn’t see you there. Why are you skulking around in the dark?”

  John Boutwell had been a fool. Dean’d watched, as most of America had, as John had slipped in and out of affair after affair. The newspapers made excuses of his being a ladies’ man with an addiction for the opposite sex, but there was no excuse for fucking around on a woman like Belinda.

  She finally turned when he didn’t answer, but after a moment, she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “You.”

  At first, she looked as if she might say something more then she turned away quickly and began opening and closing the cabinet doors one by one. She was looking for something. Dean moved forward, and she spun and backed against the counter. Leaning down, he opened the cabinet in the island revealing the bottles of liquor.

  Lightning in the distance illuminated the windows for a moment, and thunder followed in the distance. Thunder sounded again, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The wolf inside of him didn’t like storms. It made him restless.

  Their gazes met, and electricity buzzed in the air. It wasn’t liquor she was thirsty for. He could smell it on her, taste it in the air between them. She’d been neglected for years, and now, need radiated from her in potent waves.

  She swiped one of the bottles, and slowly, he closed the cabinet. Silently, he watched her pour some into a glass. She lifted the rim to her lips, and his attention slid momentarily to the ivory skin of her throat as it worked around the liquid. Her gaze peered over the rim of the glass at him as she drank the last drop. She retrieved a second glass and filled them both, sliding one across the surface of the bar towards him.

  “Do you want some?”

  He shook his head.“I’m sorry about John. I should have…”

  She held up a hand and closed her eyes. “Please don’t. It wasn’t your fault. Paul Goldman told me what happened when I visited him in the hospital, of how you tried to stand up for me.”

  She opened her eyes and looked down into the amber-coloured liquid in her glass. “He told me it wasn’t the first time the two of you had argued.”

  Dean glanced at the windows when lightning flashed again. I’ve seen how you look at her. John’s words haunted him. It was true. He’d always felt something he couldn’t explain when it came to John’s wife, but Dean had never wanted those feelings to show. For the few years he’d known John before he’d become a senator, they’d been as close as brothers.

  Dean turned from the window to find Belinda watching him. “Maybe I will have that drink.” He reached out and swiped up the glass. In two swallows, he emptied it. The burn of the liquor didn’t drown out the sorrow in his chest.

  “Why did you request me for your bodyguard?”

  A soft smile barely lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “John always said you were the only man in the world he trusted. He said you would walk through fire for him.” She looked again at her drink. “The police told me that when they arrived on scene, you were pulling away pieces of the car trying to get to him, that your clothes had been nearly burned off. I guess he was right about you.”

  “That’s why you requested me?

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. “That and you are familiar. My alternative was to allow them to fill my house with strangers.” She met his gaze. “You are the only man they’ve cleared as not being the person responsible for his death. All of that together makes me trust you too.”

  The way she looked at him was pure torture, and the last thing she needed to do right then was trust him. He was moments away from leaping on her, and her husband’s body wasn’t even cold in the ground. I’ve seen how you look at her.

  Her hand lifted to the strap of her gown when he took a step towards her. “What are you doing?”

  He grew still. What was he doing? The wolf inside pushed another step, and Belinda bumped into the counter behind her as she matched it. What was it about her? Something he had no name for pulled at him as it always did when he was around her. He’d tried to keep it hidden but apparently had done a piss-poor job since John himself had noticed.

  On the third step, she set aside her glass but didn’t bolt, so he closed the distance between them with one last stride. Standing in front of her, Dean reached out to touch her cheek only to find his hand shaking. If she noticed, it didn’t show as she gazed up at him, lips parted. He dropped his hand, realising that if he touched her, he would be done for.

  “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

  She blinked, and her attention lowered to his lips then to his chest before returning to his face. “No.”

  Dean arched a brow, almost thankful for her decline. “No?” But the scent of her said yes.

  “It would be wrong to allow anyone to kiss me. John has only been gone two weeks. If someone were to find out, it would look bad and…” She spoke quickly, and Dean could see her working through the media frenzy in her mind.

  “There is no one here to see.” Why was he pushing? It wasn’t like him to push.

  “I said no. It would be bad.”

  “Oh no. It would be good. I promise.” He leaned closer, but she didn’t move away and he inhaled beneath her jaw. He smelled the lingering flavour of her floral shampoo, her sweet perfume and, beneath that, her natural feminine scent. He didn’t touch her—, he wouldn’t.

  “How can you even suggest a thing? You and John were friends.” Her voice shook.

  Dean straightened and gazed at her wide eyes. Her body reacted to him. He could smell that, but he’d not realised she might be frightened of him, too. He took a step backward.

  “Of course, you are right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He reached for the bottle of bourbon she’d left on the counter and looked at his glass. It wouldn’t be enough to stifle the hunger in him. After a moment, he turned up the bottle and drank deeply. When he lowered it, she still stared at him.

  “Go back to bed now.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sleep.”

  He winced. “You miss him.”

  For a moment, she said nothing.

  “John and I rarely slept together. On the occasions we did, it was…” Her cheeks burned to life, and she looke
d away. “Over quickly.”

  Dean frowned. He’d not realised that she and John might not be intimate. He’d assumed that John enjoyed all the sex he had, including that with his wife.

  “I don’t know why I told you that. I shouldn’t have.” She waved a hand, seeming embarrassed with herself. “I just don’t have anyone to—”

  “Was he ever cruel to you?” Dean retracted the step he’d taken away from her. “He never forced you.”

  Her head snapped around so she could stare at him. “Of course not. His cruelty was indifference. He wasn’t the kind to rape any woman.”

  Dean breathed out and nodded then lifted the bottle to his lips again. He hadn’t thought John would do something like that, but he had to make sure. The shock in her eyes was enough to let him know she was telling the truth.

  “How many?”

  He lowered the bottle, licking the liquor from his lips. “How many what?”

  “How many women did he cheat on me with?”

  Dean started to turn but her hand on his arm rooted him. Her fingers pressed into him sending a flurry of heat through his veins. Slowly, he turned back and looked at her then dropped his gaze to her hand.

  “You told me no, and I respect that, but unless you want me to ignore your words and do what I wish with you, you will remove your hand.” Her eyes widened, but to his surprise, she didn’t pull her hand back. Instead, her fingers curled in the sleeve of his shirt.

  His heart hammering in his chest, he set the bottle back on the counter with one hand and reached for her with the other. With one pull, he had her thin body flush against him. Supple breasts moulded against his chest, her nipples hardening. Her free hand rested on his shoulder.

  “I’ve never cheated on him. Never. Even this last year when he never came to me, I never…” It seemed important to her that he understand. “But I’m just so…”