FAITH'S WISHFUL EXPRESSION MADE CAMERON THINK SHE was trying to decide whether to stay with him longer or not. But her soft green eyes shifted to the opening of the tent, and he knew he was losing her.
He reached out and touched her uninjured hand, wanting desperately to pull her into his embrace, to hold her tight, to make everything that had happened in the last several hours fade away, but he couldn't force her. Her jaw clenched.
"Faith." He meant to say her name softly, but it came out as lust-drenched pleading to his ears.
"Just for a little while. But I've got to go to Charles before long." Her gaze flickered to Cameron's and she looked down at the bedding.
Then she crawled into the sleeping bag with him, and laid her head on his chest, her arm over his waist, and even one leg propped over his. For an hour, she rested with Cameron, his hand stroking her hair as he held her tight. But she seemed tense. He could tell from her breathing she wasn't sleeping, her body stiff, but she laid against him just the same, her body heating his. This had to be enough for now, and he was grateful for any concession on her part, but then she pulled away so tentatively, he was certain he could still keep her close, if he just pushed a little harder, even though he didn't want her that way.
She had to accept him for what he was even if it killed him to see her go. He was certain her reluctance didn't mean she hadn't wanted to be with him. Maybe that she was truly worried about Charles. Or maybe that she was unsure of being with Cameron. That bothered him as much as her not staying with him for a little while longer.
She rubbed her injured hand again, then slipped out of the tent, leaving him to face the bitter cold. With her there, the tent had seemed so much warmer, full of her light. He ground his teeth and sank against the bedding.
The damn pain from his injury wouldn't subside, and he wanted her. And every inch of him was freezing. He growled and jerked his sleeping bag aside, then yanked his clothes on, feeling like he was sitting in his freezer. He couldn't understand why he desired Faith so badly. Not that he hadn't been interested in her from the beginning, and he admired her tenacity and resolve despite all that they'd been through. But everything about her triggered a deeper interest, a need to possess, to make her his, when he didn't think he'd ever feel that way about a woman.
He doubted her resolve to tend to his injured shoulder had everything to do with it. His hang-dog expression had upset her, and she'd been feeling badly about abandoning him. Come to think of it, no one had ever nurtured him so far as he could recall, which endeared her to him even more.
Then he had to change into the blasted wolf again, and worse, bite her. He'd tasted her blood, knew he'd broken the skin. He prayed he hadn't infected her with the magical wolf's virus, or whatever the hell it was.
Damn the change and his lack of control over it. He jerked the sleeping bag to his chin, and slammed his eyes shut, but sleep wouldn't come. Not with the way his mind kept working over all that had occurred since he'd first met her. All he wanted was the siren curled beside him, her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her bundled body, listening to her steady heartbeat, breathing in the fragrance that was all Faith—a hint of something floral, and definitely something sexual. More than anything, he desired her acceptance. And now what? Had he changed her also? Annoyed with himself for his lack of restraint, he curled his fingers into fists.
Unable to sleep, Cameron wanted in the worst way to look for David and Owen and search the area to ensure none of Kintail's wolves lurked nearby. Or Kintail and his men either. Which now he wondered if they were all one and the same.
But he needed to rest, too.
He rolled onto his side, then his stomach, the pain in his shoulder giving him fits. He tossed onto his back and stared at the tent ceiling. "Hell," he growled.
He stripped off his clothes and willed himself to shift.
It didn't happen right away. He thought of claws and teeth, of fur and a long menacing snout, of ears sitting atop his head that twitched back and forth, listening to sounds. And then he felt the heat circulating through every blood vessel.
This time when his fur coat covered his bare skin, and he was standing on the bedding as a wolf, a new sensation filled him with an uncontrollable need. The urge to howl.
Faith woke with a start, unsure what made her stir. She hadn't thought she'd ever fall asleep, as upset as she was about Cameron biting her. Well more than that, that he was whatever he was and Kintail's wolf had turned him that way.
She thought back to when she was in the camp alone—most of the dogs had run off with the wolf that had killed the others. Fearing the dead wolves' blood would attract a predator, she'd meant to bury the wolves. But when she'd found the two naked dead men in the wolves' places, she'd nearly had a stroke. It didn't dawn on her that Cameron was the wolf that had killed them either, just that he'd vanished. Even when he'd pounced on her, then began talking to her in his human form again, trying to reassure her, her brain had a hard time assimilating the information. He was human, a bit of a rogue, dangerous even, if someone threatened his safety, but a man who could turn into a wolf?
She ran her hands through her tangled hair. Even now, it seemed more like a dream, well, nightmare, especially once he'd bitten her. Although the bite wasn't hurting any longer. Hopefully, it was only that—a small bite that wouldn't amount to anything.
Charles mumbled something. That's what had woken her. She sat up and touched his cheek. "Charles? Can you hear me?"
He didn't respond.
His temperature appeared normal, his breathing also.
Glad he wasn't in distress, she sighed. But they still needed to get him to a doctor.
Not wanting to leave her warm sleeping bag, Faith finally crawled out, the call of nature too great. The worst part of winter camping in the middle of nowhere, besides the constant cold, was that there were no outhouses. She slipped out of the tent, glanced at Cameron's tent and the dogs, but Cameron must still be sleeping. The dogs lifted their heads. She shushed them, then walked away from camp. She headed deeper into the woods, but not too far, perfect for privacy in case Cameron exited his tent. Although she was surprised he wasn't up already, tending to the dogs. But then again, she was the morning person, and he seemed to be more of a night owl.
Then she worried about his new wound. Hell, what if the bite had made him terribly ill? No way could she manage taking two injured men back to Millinocket, maneuvering two sleds and all the dogs. Planning to check on Cameron as soon as she took care of business, Faith found the perfect spot, a huge spruce shielding her from the campsite. She was about to get on with business when something moved in the woods off to her left. She jerked her head that way. A big white wolf with light brown eyes stood watching her. Don't run, she warned herself, the image of Cameron flattening her against the snow in his wolf form flitting across her brain. Yet the instinctive urge was there—to flee the danger.
On the other hand, maybe it was just Cameron in a magnificent ice white coat, same tall stature, longer legs and healthy body, unlike the scrawnier wolves he'd fought. She folded her arms and faced him down. He paused some distance from her, panting, his ears twisting back and forth, probably listening to sounds only he could hear, his tail slightly wagging, and his mouth almost smiling.
But then the sound of one of the dogs running up behind her caught her attention. She turned slightly to see another white wolf. Her heart nearly seized. The two wolves were matched in size and looked very similar.
If the one coming from camp was Cameron—must be because the dogs didn't react—then—
She glanced at the other.
He'd vanished. Her heart racing, she stared at the trees, the snow piled up against them. Anyone of them could be hiding the white wolf.
The wolf behind her nudged her hand, and she swallowed a scream. "Cameron?"
He bowed his head.
"Jeez, I thought the other was you." She rubbed her arms, her whole body trembling. "I need some privacy."
Instead of returning to camp, he took off to check out the woods in front of her, and then she wished she hadn't wanted him to leave, fearing he'd find the other wolf and tangle with it.
After taking care of business in a hurry, she waited for Cameron to return. But when he didn't, she hurried back into camp. Once she'd retrieved the gun and pepper spray—which she scolded herself for not carrying with her all along—she rushed back to the woods.
Silence greeted her. Not even a whisper of a breeze. Her heartbeat now pounded in her eardrums, the can of pepper spray in her gloved hand as she took a few steps in the direction Cameron had taken.
What if she found a wolf? What if it was the wrong one? She pushed forward, her boots sinking knee deep in the soft snowdrifts. If she had to run, she'd be in a world of hurt. But she wouldn't abandon Cameron either.
Growling pierced the frigid air and she stood stock still. And then another sound, snowmobiles? The engines' roar in the distance… headed their way?
Rescue? Her heart lifted. Or Kintail's men? Her hopes took a dive. She stared at the spruces, figured she'd better get back to protect Charles and the dogs, and prayed Cameron would be all right.
With no sign of the snowmobiles yet, although they were headed this way, she raced to feed the dogs, who pranced and danced around her, eager for breakfast.
Hurry back, Cameron. Now, she silently pleaded.
After putting food out for the dogs, she returned to Cameron's tent to get the first aid kit and change Charles's bandage before the snowmobiles arrived, three of them, she thought. They continued to roar toward them and as they drew closer, the dogs let out a chorus of wild barking.
Listening to the noisy snowmobiles, she loved how much quieter and in tune with nature dog sledding was. Then as she saw the three machines in the distance, she felt the heavy metal gun in her pocket and held onto the can of pepper spray.
The three men drove into camp, wearing ski masks and snow goggles, their fur-trimmed hoods hiding their faces so she couldn't see their expressions. Then Cameron, or at least she hoped it was, loped back into camp as a wolf. He eyed the newcomers, sniffed the air, moved in closer to her in a protective mode, bumping her leg, nuzzling her. She was glad to have him on her side.
"Where's Charles?" one of the men asked, climbing off the snowmobile. He glanced at the wolf, but he didn't seem surprised.
He knew Charles? Had to be a friend the way he sounded worried. Which would have eased her concern but the fact he didn't act shocked to see a wild wolf in camp meant he knew Kintail and his wolves. But then again, it seemed everyone knew of Kintail and his wolves.
"He's been injured. How do you know him?"
"I'm his cousin. He didn't tell us he had paying customers for an overnight sled ride, and he's late arriving home. His sister is worried sick about him. How was he injured?"
A cousin. Relieved, Faith motioned to the tent. "It's a long story. We became separated from him and when we found him, he'd been hurt. He was struck in the head and appears to have a concussion."
"Separated?" The man frowned at her, then stormed inside the tent and spoke in French, but she couldn't understand what he said.
At once, she felt as though they thought Cameron and she were party to a crime.
The other two men dismounted and began taking care of the dogs, putting on their booties, packing up the sleds. The dogs' barking was nearly deafening.
His brow deeply furrowed, Charles's cousin exited the tent. "I'm Michael Roux. Charles is conscious and said you need to return to the cabins, pack your bags, and leave for Millinocket at once. You and my brother, George, can take the snowmobiles in. The rest of us will follow with the sleds when we've finished packing."
Cameron loped past them into his tent and after a few minutes, reemerged in his human form, dressed for the weather. Faith closed her gaping mouth. Guess he had the wolf change business under control.
Michael and the others took notice, but didn't say a word. They knew. She wondered how many other local area residents knew about Kintail and his wolves. Or were Charles and his cousins also some of the same kind of creatures?
Cameron hauled out his sleeping bag, and Faith's and his bags, avoiding looking at anyone, appearing uncomfortable as hell. Faith hurried to help him.
"You must be with Kintail," Michael said to Cameron as he worked on the dogs' harnesses.
Faith felt her blood pressure rise.
Cameron sliced him a glare. "Not in this lifetime."
Michael and the other two men stopped harnessing the dogs, and he glanced back at Charles's tent and swore under his breath, "Damn, Charles." He considered Cameron's torn parka sleeve. "When did it happen?"
"A couple of days ago."
Michael considered Faith. "Were you bitten also?"
"Not by one of Kintail's wolves." Faith avoided eye contact with Cameron.
Cameron threw their bags on one of the snowmobiles. "Yeah, she was... by mistake."
Michael shook his head. "Best if the two of you leave the region pronto, if you know what's good for you."
Cameron gave him a caustic look. "I'm still looking for two of my friends."
"We admire you and your kind." Michael bowed his head slightly in reverence. "Kintail and his people have been here for centuries—magical creatures, powerful and at one with nature. They have always lived in peace with our people, the tales passed on from generation to generation, while we have honored their ways. Which means we don't interfere in their… your business. What goes on with Kintail's pack, territorial disputes, internal encroachments or external ones, will be decided by you and your kind."
Faith closed her gaping mouth. Kintail was one of them. For centuries this had been going on? It had to have been what her father's research was all about!
What about what the men in the hot tub had said? They hadn't found Bigfoot, but something else? The man killed in Kintail's office… with silver. Hell, he was a… werewolf?
The fairy tales were true? But then again, silver in high amounts could kill anyone.
"We appreciate your helping us out, and we'll take it from here." Cameron took the gun from Faith and shoved it in his pocket.
The notion they were out on a twig of a limb without a safety net crossed Faith's mind. This was so not good. Wanting to thank Charles and say good-bye, she stalked into his tent, but his eyes were shut and when she crouched next to him and spoke, he didn't respond.
"Thank you, Charles, for everything." She kissed his cheek and pulled the blanket higher. "We appreciate everything you did for us, and if I can ever pay you back… just contact me." She hoped he was really awake, or enough so that he could hear her. But she intended to check on him after they returned to Millinocket later.
When she reemerged from the tent, she asked Michael, "Will Charles be all right?"
"That hard head of his has taken a lot of knocks. Yeah, he'll be fine, but he shouldn't have gotten into Kintail's business. He knows better."
"I can't understand how you can treat Kintail as if he should get away with this," she said, waving toward Charles's tent, "as if you don't care." Faith's voice was much higher pitched than she meant it to be, but she couldn't believe Charles's family would allow such brutality to one of their own. Maybe they didn't care about Cameron's friends, but Charles was their cousin! "You act as though Kintail's a god!"
"I'm certain you'll come to understand Kintail's ways before long. All I can say is that we were not put here to judge him or his kind." Michael turned to George. "Get them to the resort and make sure they leave for the trailhead after that. We'll be headed that way shortly. And don't talk to anyone. We don't want any more trouble."
George barely let Faith and Cameron mount their snowmobiles before he took off. He drove so fast she wondered if it was because he didn't want Kintail or his people to catch him aiding them, he hoped to lose them, or he just wanted to get back as quickly as possible to help Charles.
She glanced at Cameron driving behind her. Was he getting the wolf change more under control? She hoped so or he'd have to live like a mountain man. Find a job where he could work out of his home. No dealing with people on a regular basis. Only private eye investigations under the cover of dark.
Then she worried about her own situation. What if she began to change? There went her job, too.
She didn't feel any urge in that regard, though. Thankfully. Through her balaclava, she smelled the air, crisp, clean, and cold. Nothing unusual about it. Maybe the only time someone like Cameron had the wolf sense was when he was a wolf. That would be understandable. At least as much as turning into a wolf could be believable.
But the whole time back, she worried about what they would report to the police. That a wolf attacked Cameron, changed him into something mythical? And maybe she was in the same boat, too? That he'd killed two wolves defending her who happened to be men also? That Kintail or one of his men had nearly killed Charles?
Officers Whitson and Adams would believe every bit of it. Right.
In half the time it took to travel with the dogs, they arrived on the snowmobiles back at the cabins. As soon as they dismounted at the lodge, Faith hoped to understand more of what they were up against. She asked George before he could run off, "What do you know about Kintail's wolves?"
He cast a disgruntled look her way. "You're not one of the Cree and you're not an accepted member of Kintail's pack. If I were you, I'd do what my brother suggested. Get out of here before Kintail or his people make you vanish for good."
"But Cameron is one of them," Faith insisted.
George shook his head and took the keys to the snowmobiles from them. "Kintail hasn't made him part of his pack and none of his people will welcome him here while the leader wants him dead. My own people won't willingly take sides with an outsider who's one of Kintail's kind but on his terminal list. So Cameron will have to leave and…" He lifted a shoulder. "… maybe start his own pack. Since Cameron bit you…," George said, his lips lifting slightly, "for all practical purposes he's already claimed a mate."
Faith's mouth gaped, and she quickly looked at Cameron.
He cleared his throat and took her hand. "We don't know that you've been infected."
George looked like he didn't believe she'd escaped Cameron's fate. "Kintail's pack rules this territory. The best thing for the two of you to do is return to your own region. Although blending in someplace else might be hard to do when the shift occurs. No Arctic wolves in the States, except for Alaska. Unless you manage to win the populace over like Kintail and his people have here, pretending that the wolves are pets."
George's expression darkened. "The problem if you go to Alaska is it's the only place in the United States that animals can be shot from an aircraft through some loophole in the law. So, hunters will either kill from the air, or run the wolves or other hunted animals down until they're too exhausted to escape, land the aircraft, and shoot their prey. A magical wolf would then be just as much at risk of being hunted down while in its wolf form. Many hunters oppose aerial hunting because it violates the ethics of fair chase, but the ones who don't..." His jaw taut, George shook his head.
"You can leave the keys to the cabins on the kitchen counters." Then George went inside the lodge and shut the door.
"You might be all right, Faith," Cameron reiterated. "You might not have contracted my… condition."
But she wasn't just concerned about herself. "What will you do? And what about your friends?"
Cameron took Faith's uninjured hand, walked her past the shower facility, and headed for the path through the woods to her cabin. "I can't leave until I find them. It appears you don't need to stay here any longer though. Seems your father might have seen something of what I've become while he was doing his research. And I doubt that even if the flash drive still exists, Kintail will want your father sharing the information with the world. In fact, it's too dangerous for you here. Until I can get you on a plane out of here, you'll stay with me, but then you need to return home."
She frowned at him. "I agree that my dad probably found out about Kintail and his people and that's what he wrote about. Maybe someone was following him like he thought because of what he'd known." Faith pulled Cameron to a stop. "What if Hilson is dead? If he tried to blackmail Kintail with the information, he or his people most likely would have killed him. Maybe that's why he's no longer at the cabin. Or maybe he's one of them." She took a deep breath. "But even so, I can't go, not now."
"Listen, I've got to find my friends and free them from Kintail's clutches if they're still alive. Somehow. It's not going to be a walk in the park. But I can't be watching your back also. It's too dangerous."
She "humpfed" and headed off to the cabin. "For your information, Cameron MacPherson, I may already have your, uhm, problem, condition, whatever. So I'm not about to get on an airplane and fly home before I know for sure. What if I changed in the middle of the flight? No pets allowed, and certainly no feral wolves.
"I could see myself having an episode and having to hightail it to the bathroom. Then the seat belt lights go on, and I'm stuck in the privy as a wolf. The stewardess is pounding on the door, trying to get a stubborn passenger to retake her seat. And I can't say a word. The stewardess uses a key on the door, afraid there's something terribly wrong. And there is. I've got big sharp teeth, an extraordinary sense of smell, and better vision—all the better to see, smell, and eat her with. So I'm staying here until I know the whole story."
He didn't say anything for quite a while, his hand still tight around her arm as he held her close, helping to keep her warm from the bitter breeze. Then he cleared his throat. "Okay, but you continue to stay with me for the time being. And," he turned to look at her and added, "if you don't show any signs of what I have, you go home, pronto."
She glowered at him. "It would be my pleasure." Although she didn't mean it in the least. Had to be a case of immediate rebound. Hell, she was ready to settle down with a wolf-man?
"What if this condition affects people differently? What if I take longer to change?"
Cameron let out his breath in a frosty huff and hurried her faster toward her cabin, but didn't reply. Then he mumbled, "I shouldn't have gone with you and Charles. I put you at risk."
Surprised, she glanced up at him. He was feeling this was all his fault? "Right, you protected me from the big bad wolf behind the shower room."
When he raised his brows at her in disbelief, she frowned. "He was coming for me. You got in his way. So you just delayed the inevitable. He still got me, only through you." She gave a half smile. "Besides, I've been in worse predicaments."
He opened his mouth and she figured he planned to contradict her.
She shook her head. "Okay, maybe not anything worse than this. Although I did have a mad killer after me once."
He snorted.
"I did. In my line of work, sometimes the crazies go after the forensic scientists. He didn't want me to learn how he'd murdered three of his victims."
A look of admiration crossed Cameron's face for a second, then he was back to being annoyed. "Okay, so that was one mad killer. This is a pack of them. And I'm serious about sending you home." Cameron took Faith's hand and continued walking her down the path to Black Bear Den cabin. But as soon as he stepped on the deck, he paused to smell the air, and frowned.
She smelled something, too. A hint of spice, and something else.
Cameron pulled the door open.
Leidolf Wildhaven, his brows lifted, stood in the middle of the cabin amongst Faith's colorful bras and panties, which were strewn about the floor.