Prince of Wolves Read online

  Sally giggled, Jacque looked mortified, and Fane simply smiled. “Yes, something like that.”

  Jacque pushed Jen and Sally towards the door, trying very hard not to look and see if Fane was watching her. She knew somehow that he was. So, what the heck? Might as well watch him back, she told herself. She tentatively looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, Fane was staring at her. He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes were squinted together ever so slightly, giving her the impression that he knew something she did not. That thought made her shudder and push Jen and Sally harder out the door.

  “We’re going, Jacque. Good grief,” she heard Jen grunt.

  “Well, go a little quicker please!” Jacque whispered through tight lips.

  The girls walked briskly down the walkway and across the street, not even bothering to see if Jacque’s mom was behind them. All Jacque could think was that she needed to put some space between her and that hottie. Okay, so she still couldn’t stop calling him hottie. Well, it's true, so go jump in a lake already, she told herself.

  Once inside the house the three girls double timed it up the stairs and into Jacque’s bedroom. Sally shut the door firmly and turned to pin Jacque with her best “you better spill it now” stare. Jen had pulled up some carpet and was staring just as sternly.

  Jacque took some slow, deep breaths. I seem to be doing this a lot lately, she thought.

  “First impressions?” Jacque finally prompted.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe something like, OH MY, stutter, drool, FREAKING, pant, deep breathing, GOSH!” Jen spat.

  Sally nodded fervently. “Yeah, what she said, but more panting and deep breathing on my end.”

  “What about you?” Jen asked. “You didn’t seem as mesmerized as us. Why is that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I was, ya know, a little distracted by THE VOICE IN MY HEAD!” Jacque realized she was yelling. “I’m sorry, ya’ll. I shouldn’t take my stress out on you. I’m just – just – I don’t know. Freaking out, I guess.”

  “Have you tried talking back to the voice? You know, like answering it through your thoughts?” Sally asked tentatively.

  Jacque shook her head. “I feel like if I do, then I am just solidifying the fact that I’m losing it.”

  “You’re NOT losing it. Something is definitely up with this Fane guy. No one, and I mean no one, can look that good and make you want to curl up and purr when he talks to you. Something’s fishy and it’s not your mom’s fried chicken,” Jen told her.

  Jacque turned to her window and opened the blinds. She looked across the street at the Henrys' house and wondered what to do about Fane Lu-whatever his last name was.

  She heard her two best friends walk up beside her. With all three gazing out the window, they put their arms around her.

  “I know I’ve said it before, and I will keep saying it until it sinks into that unruly, curly head of yours, but it will be alright. You are not alone in this, okay?” Sally said with love.

  “Yeah, chick. You got us, no matter what,” Jen agreed. “Besides, we’re too nosy to not stick around.”

  Sally pulled a strand of Jen’s hair as a scolding. “Ow! Crap, I’m just saying!” Jen scowled.

  Jacque turned away from the window and wiped away the tears she hadn’t even realized were there. Then she hugged her friends.

  “Okay, I know you guys need to go home and assure your parents that you’re still alive and haven’t been abducted or anything. But do ya’ll think you can come back later?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “I will have to do some laundry and pick up my room to pacify my mom, you know how it is, but then I can come back over and stay the night again if your mom is cool with it,” Jen said.

  Sally spoke up as well. “Yeah, I can be back around seven tonight. I just need to take care of some chores as well.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. I’ll let my mom know that ya’ll will be back. I know she won’t care.”

  Jacque walked them downstairs to the front door and watched as they each walked to their cars. She stood in the doorway, watching them drive off until she couldn’t see their cars any longer. She slowly turned and went back into the house, shutting the door behind her.

  She stood in the entryway, looking at nothing. Her mind was running amok again and Jacque was trying to decipher the thoughts. It was no use. She was tired, emotional, and beginning to realize that ever since she had walked out of the Henrys' house and away from Fane, it was taking all she had not to turn around and run – not walk, but run like a cat with a fire cracker tied to its tail – back to him. What the hell was up with that?

  Jacque’s head snapped up when she heard her mom hollering from upstairs. “Jacque? I need to go to the store for a little while. I’ve got some new inventory I need to take care of, and since I was able to hire some other staff I can finally get caught up.” Her mom came to the top of the stairs and looked down at her. Tilting her head, she asked, “Are you okay, sweetie? You look a little frayed around the edges.”

  “Naw, I’m good. Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep too well last night,” Jacque fibbed. Then she thought of how she had been feeling her mom’s emotions so strongly and decided to say something. “What about you mom? You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you lie down for a little bit? Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone? Need me to get you anything while I’m out?” her mom asked.

  “No. I’ll be fine, mom. Thanks though. Oh yeah, I did want to check and see if you were okay with Sally and Jen spending the night again tonight?”

  “No, I don’t have a problem with that if their parents are okay with it. Ya’ll can order pizza if I’m not home by dinner,” she answered.

  Jacque hugged her mom and told her goodbye before heading up to her room. She shut the door, turned off the lights, and put her Evanescence CD on. The music was oddly calming to her. Then she laid down on her bed and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Fane watched as Jacquelyn hurried back to her house. He wanted to growl at her eagerness to get away from him, but he reminded himself it was only because she was scared, not because she didn’t want to accept him as her mate. After all, she didn’t even know him, let alone know what a mate was.

  Mrs. Henry called him from in the kitchen and he went to see what she wanted.

  “Lilly made you a traditional Southern meal. Are you ready for lunch yet? It’s only 11:30, but I thought you might be hungry since you didn’t get a chance to have breakfast.”

  “Actually, I am hungry and it all smells really good.” Fane’s wolf perked up at the smell of the chicken and his stomach growled. He hadn’t realized that he was so hungry.

  “The plates are in the cabinet to the left of the stove, and the silverware is in the drawer to the right of the sink,” Mrs. Henry pointed out. “Eat all you want. Oh and she made sweet tea as well. It’s in the fridge. The glasses are in the cabinet next to the plates.”

  “Thank you,” Fane said simply.

  “I’m off to the grocery store; I didn’t get a chance to go yesterday. Is there anything in particular that you like?” she asked.

  “I’m not picky and I like to try new things, so whatever you usually buy will be fine with me. I can give you some money as well, since you will be feeding another mouth,” Fane answered.

  “There is no way I’m taking any of your money, Fane, so you can just get that notion out of your head. You are our guest, and we are more than pleased to feed you,” she said firmly but not unkindly.

  “Mulţumesc, Mrs. Henry. I am most grateful,” Fane responded.

  “You’re welcome. Oh, I keep meaning to tell you, no more Mrs. Henry. Call me Sara and you can call Mr. Henry Brian. Okay, well, I'll see you later. My cell phone number is on the front of the fridge, so put it in your phone in case you need me. See you later,” she said with a wave.

  Fane walked over to
the fridge and there on the front was a pink sticky note with both Sara and Brian’s cell phone numbers. He took his phone out of his pocket and put both numbers in his contacts.

  He found himself thinking it was kind of odd that he would never need Jacquelyn’s cell phone number, because he would always have a direct line to her designated just for him, and she to him as well. He wasn’t sure if that was a little unsettling because it meant if and when Jacquelyn realized it, she had access to his thoughts…all his thoughts. There was a way to put up what you might call a wall in your mind if you needed a break from your mate, but it was difficult for mates to be cut off from each other for any length of time. Not that he knew from experience, that was just what his father had told him about the mate bond.

  Even though Jacquelyn had yet to respond to him when he spoke through her thoughts, he wasn’t feeling any ill effects from her lack of reciprocation. Once again, he was going to need to talk to his father about this.

  He prepared himself a plate and a glass of sweet tea (and really, it should have been called sugar with some tea in it), and decided to eat up in his room since Sara was gone and he hadn’t seen Brian this morning.

  He sat at the desk right next to the window that faced Jacquelyn’s house and pulled the blinds up so he could look out. Taking a bite of chicken, he thought about her for the millionth time since he'd set eyes on her. He thought about her unruly hair, her green eyes, her – what he now knew to be soft – skin dusted with freckles, and most of all her scent. Cotton candy and fresh snow, what an odd thing to smell like, but he supposed it had something to do with who she was, sweet and pure – and he had a feeling she could be as cold as the Romanian snow if the situation called for it.

  Fane continued to eat his lunch, his wolf thoroughly enjoying the protein even though it was cooked. He of course preferred it raw and enjoyed it even more after a hunt. Still, it was excellent.

  He took his plate back downstairs and washed out his glass, refilling it with water this time. With no sign of Brian, he headed back up to his room. He wanted to see Jacquelyn, and if he couldn’t, he would settle for talking to her.

  Once in his room, he shut the door and lay down on his bed, hands behind his head, eyes focused on nothing in particular, and reached out to her.

  “Have I scared you, my Luna? I promise that has not been my intention.”

  He found it interesting that he didn’t really even know how it worked, he simply would just think of her and he was instantly able to “speak” to her.

  Fane realized it had been several minutes and she had not responded. She was either asleep or ignoring him. He was just about to speak again when she answered.

  Cautiously she asked, “Who are you? Are you real, or am I just imagining you?”

  Fane frowned slightly. He didn’t like the way his mate sounded – strained and a little desperate. He hated that she had to go through this, that she knew nothing of his world. He was going to have to explain it somehow without her thinking he was some nebun stalker.

  “I am very real,” he answered. “And you know who I am. Your human mind just does not want to accept it.”

  Fane was going to push her gently in the direction she needed to go and let her come up with the conclusion. If he told her he was the voice in her head, if he didn’t let her decide for herself, then she might not be able to believe it.

  He listened as she wrestled with what he told her. Her mind was so interesting and comical at times.

  “What on earth did it mean by “human mind”? Was the voice implying that it was not human? Oh, wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake. I'm no just hearing a voice, nope, that would still be in the realm of crazy. I passed crazy a few exits back. No, I'm now entering crackpot ville.”

  Fane couldn’t help himself when he let out a small laugh. Where did she come up with phrases like “crackpot ville”? He just had to ask. He wanted to know her, to understand her. He found himself using a term of endearment – “my heart” – without even thinking. It just came naturally, even though he never considered himself to be the type for pet names.

  “Meu inimă, you are not crazy. And where do you get your odd way of speaking? Crackpot ville? What does that mean exactly?” Fane asked her.

  Without realizing it, in using his native language he had not just given her a little push in the right direction, he'd pretty much shoved her off a cliff. So much for subtle. It never was his strong suit anyway, according to his mother.

  He felt her distress rise, could feel her need for disbelief, and yet there was a small spark of…relief? Didn’t see that one coming, Fane thought as he closed his eyes and focused on her, listening to her mind come to terms with this revelation.

  Well, there's the clincher, Jacque thought. I mean, really. If you’re going to hear a voice, what are the chances it would have a Romanian accent? To Fane’s and evidently her surprise, she started to laugh, not just a giggle but a full-out, body shaking laugh. For some reason unbeknownst to Fane, it just suddenly struck her as funny. Of course she now knew it wasn’t just a voice, it was Fane. After all she didn’t know any other Romanians, and just to put the nail in the proverbial coffin, she asked in a soft, almost shy voice,“Fane?”

  His heart stuttered at the sound of his name. Even though it wasn’t from her lips, she'd said it and it sounded so good coming from her. A small amount of triumph settled over him and his wolf growled in contentment knowing his mate was thinking of him. He answered her honestly, wanting her to believe him without a doubt.

  “Da, meu inimă. It is I.”

  Fane held his breath, waiting for her response, scared that she would continue to try and pass this off as her lack of sanity. What would he do if she refused to take her place at his side? He hadn’t even considered the idea of her not accepting him. He growled in response at the thought. Mates were bound to each other; there would never be another for either one of them. To Fane’s knowledge there had never been one who had rejected their mate. It would be a devastating action for both and neither would ever be whole again.

  That just wasn’t acceptable, he decided. He would drag her back to Romania with him where she belonged, if it came to that.

  Right, Fane, he told himself. That would really earn her trust. You can’t just hit her over the head and drag her around by her hair, even though that would actually be the easier road. No, he was going to have to do this the honorable way and court her. Jacque deserved that, after all. She was his Luna, and would be Queen of the Canis lupus one day – she deserved his unwavering love and devotion. And she would get nothing less.

  He continued to wait for her response. He thought about reaching out to her to find out what she was thinking, but up til now he had been giving her privacy, only intruding into her thoughts when he spoke to her. It would be a violation to listen to her when she didn’t know that he could do so any time – he could also “see” the things she thought in her head. And as a gentleman he would not violate his Luna’s privacy, mate or not.

  Fane decided to let her be for now. She needed time to process the fact that the guy she met only briefly was somehow able to talk to her through her thoughts. That was a lot to absorb. He would wait to see if she would seek him out. He only hoped that he and his wolf would be patient. The mate bond called to him and demanded an answer.

  Chapter 7

  Jacque’s eyes snapped open at the revelation that was causing her to hyperventilate. Fane! The voice was Fane! Once he had answered her, she believed without a doubt that she wasn’t just hearing a voice made up by her subconscious. It was someone real, tangible, and...well, hot! Not that him being hot is important, Jacque thought to herself. But it seriously didn’t hurt.

  No longer able to lie still, Jacque got up and went over to her window. She opened the blinds and looked across the street at the Henrys' house, wondering what Fane was doing. Wondering if he was wondering about her. Oh, good grief, she told herself. You just met him, you don’t even know him, and you’re
wondering if he's thinking about you? Do yourself a favor - get a Kit Kat and give yourself a break.

  She closed the blinds and leaned back against the wall, shutting her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she decided she needed to do something to keep herself occupied until Sally and Jen came back over. There was a pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to her closet, she grabbed the empty laundry basket, filled it, and carried it downstairs to the laundry room. Still not operating on all four cylinders, she didn’t even bother to sort them out, she just threw her whites and colors together and tossed some detergent on top of them. She shut the washer lid and headed back into the living room.

  “Okay,” she said out loud. “What next?” She turned in a complete circle, letting her eyes roam over the room. The only thing she could see was that the living room needed to be dusted. She went into the kitchen and got supplies from under the kitchen sink and headed back to the living room. Trying to drag things out, she sprayed each item and carefully wiped them with the dusting cloth. By the time she was done, Jacque was sure the living room had never been so clean.

  She put the dust cloth and spray away and then her clothes were ready to go into the dryer.

  When she finally looked at the clock, she moaned as she realized it had only been an hour since she'd come downstairs. What was she going to do now? I could go over to the Henrys' and see if they were done with mom’s dishes, she told herself. Yeah, Sherlock, that wouldn’t be obvious at all.

  Jacque headed back up to her room, wracking her brain for things she could do to keep her mind off you-know-who, at least until Sally and Jen were back. When she shut her bedroom door, her hand brushed up against the bathing suit she had hanging on the doorknob. “Okay, sun tanning it is,” she said to herself.

  Jacque grabbed the bathing suit and went to the bathroom to change. She ran a hand down her legs and decided they were smooth enough for just laying on a towel in the backyard. She looked in the mirror at herself, pleased enough, she supposed. She was a little on the short side at five foot one and a half inches, slender and muscular from playing on the girls' tennis team. She wasn’t Beth from Dog the Bounty Hunter in the chest department, as Jen had so nicely pointed out, but she wasn’t Grace of Will and Grace either. She figured a C cup wasn’t anything to complain about. Her hair was her favorite thing about herself: auburn, curly, and wild. Most of the time she didn’t attempt to tame it, but for sun bathing she decided to put it up in a ponytail.