Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4) Page 5

  Kylie returned with Liz’s coffee and a plate of muffins warm from the oven. She smiled, and a dimple appeared in her left cheek.

  That dimple hadn’t existed two months ago. Kylie had arrived at Liz’s home skinny to the point of ill health and almost stressed out of her mind. Any attempt at a smile had collapsed into a mouth twitching parody of that happy expression. Now, there was a shy pride.

  It had taken a few days before the beaten-down woman had confided her dream to Liz. Kylie’s ambition was to run a small café. Nothing elaborate. Something cozy and welcoming. Liz had instantly gone out and bought an espresso machine so that Kylie could practice. The result was awesome coffee, generally accompanied by baked treats. It was a good thing Liz burned calories on her long shifts in A&E and as a wolf because she couldn’t resist Kylie’s baking.

  “Yum.” She took her first bite of a pistachio and rose muffin. “Even your experiments are delectable.” Liz’s comment was honest, but also deliberate.

  Andrew Thirkell, the human trafficker, had taken a personal interest in Kylie. It was why she’d known enough that her testimony guaranteed his conviction. He’d used her and abused her. Undermining a person’s sense of self-worth was a critical part of convincing them to stay enslaved. Get into their mind that they deserved the treatment they were receiving, and they didn’t struggle to escape. Brutality and other measures were used as well, but the psychological abuse left its own mark.

  That Kylie had found the courage not only to run, but to testify against Thirkell in court, was incredibly brave.

  Liz was determined that when Kylie left her home to take up a new life in Liverpool, she’d go with enough seed money to start her café. It wasn’t something she could do straight away. Ooma had someone carefully constructing an identity for Kylie to work in a quietly prosperous, family hotel where she could get her feet under her, learn the realities of the hospitality industry, and then, fly free.

  “I’ve written down the recipe,” Kylie said. “I’ve been considering—”

  “You thought,” Urwin corrected, lisping the th-sound to an f, fought.

  Kylie concentrated on her Essex accent. “I fought as how I’d star it in me caff.”

  Liz grinned and responded with appropriate, slang approval. “Sick!” Then she glanced at the clock and gulped her coffee. “Rats. I slept too late. I promised Aunt Natalie I’d be at the fashion show.” A grimace. A fashion show wasn’t Liz’s favorite event, but the designer was a member of the Beo Pack. Not that Liz could explain that to Kylie and Urwin. But it did explain why she had to be there. “Moral support for Natalie’s friend, Cobar.”

  “One of our hottest young designers.” Urwin was interested.

  “You should be going instead of me.”

  “Hardly, darling. I’m not the granddaughter of an earl, tall and gorgeous.”

  “And about sixteen sizes larger than the models.”

  Kylie giggled.

  “I blame you for feeding me delicious goodies,” Liz mock-scowled at her. “But if I’m not going to be late…bye!” She snatched up a second muffin and dashed out, snagging her leather jacket from the coat rack by the front door. She had to get across town to the National Trust house in whose garden the collection was to be displayed. She was debating car or Tube when she jolted to a stop, precariously balanced on one step, grateful that she hadn’t worn heels. “Brandon?”

  “Hello, Liz. Cobar mentioned you’d be attending his show. I hoped I might escort you?”

  She wobbled on the edge of the step. He put a hand out and steadied her. His hold on her arm was firm, but not intrusive, but she was barely aware of it. All her concentration was given to controlling the instinct to turn and study the windows of her home. Were any of them open? Would Brandon have heard her talking with Kylie and Urwin? They had called their good-byes after her.

  And that’s what you get for counting on look-away spells when you know full well they don’t affect weres. But she’d done her best to discourage people from dropping in since she’d agreed to help Ooma. Since no one would believe that someone as sociable as her didn’t want company, Liz had instead used the busy pace of her job and its long hours as an excuse. She didn’t want unexpected visitors because she might be sleeping. Lame, but people had accepted the reasoning…and she’d carefully ignored how little sleep she’d gotten by on as a medical student.

  “That was thoughtful of you.” She tried to slip her arm from Brandon’s hold as she walked down the step to stand beside him. In her ballet flats they were the same height.

  He merely adjusted his hold to politely clasp her arm. “I’m double-parked, so before someone gets cranky…”

  And before he heard anything…Liz chanced a quick glance at her home. The front windows were open. Kylie must have, naturally enough, opened them to let in the lovely summer’s day. However, Liz didn’t want Brandon asking after her visitors or being curious about them.

  She went swiftly to his car. “We’d better not block the neighbors. They get fierce.” She was grateful for her practical, if expensive, jeans as she got into the car with Brandon holding the door.

  He closed it gently and walked around to the driver’s side, raising a hand in acknowledgement—it didn’t seem in apology—to the two cars waiting behind them. The car moved off with the low growl of a powerful engine.

  Inside, it smelled of new car, leather and Brandon. Not an unpleasant combination.

  He watched the traffic with a predator’s alertness and a Londoner’s exasperation.

  “I was debating car or Tube,” Liz said as a van cut them off.

  “I’m glad I spared you that,” he said. “I like driving, but not the stop-and-start traffic around here. It eats up time. I’m thinking of getting a driver, then I could work instead of wasting hours.”

  “Mmm.” She preferred to drive herself, and yes, she knew that made her a bit of a control freak. Most doctors were. There was a reason nurses said doctors had god-complexes. She changed the topic. “How did you get roped into going to Cobar’s show? I didn’t think a fashion show was your sort of thing.”

  “I heard you’d be going.”

  Oh. Oh wow. That was a blatant statement of interest. An assertive one.

  “Brandon.” She didn’t know what to say. He was an attractive man. If she hadn’t been hiding Kylie, would she have let things ride, even enjoyed the chase while making up her mind? But Kylie was in her home and needed protecting.

  Liz had sworn to Ooma that she’d tell no one of Kylie’s presence. It wasn’t that she mistrusted Brandon, her family or friends, but the more people who knew a secret, the more chance of it leaking. Weres were used to keeping secrets, but a promise was a promise.

  “Brandon, I’m not looking for a mate.”

  “I know.” A calm response. “I intend to change your mind.”

  It was a level of arrogance that might have annoyed, if he hadn’t flashed her a grin.

  “Liz, at least let me try.”

  “I…” Her mind went blank. Trying would mean he’d turn up at her home. He’d learn her schedule. He’d find out about Kylie. Wolf-weres took determined to a whole new level. “You can’t.”

  “Why not?” He brought the powerful car to a smooth stop at a red traffic light and gave her his complete attention. Shrewd hazel eyes studied her face and the giveaway of her fingers twisting around each other.

  She stilled her hands. “I didn’t want to tell anyone.” She wished the wretched traffic lights would turn green. As it was, she struggled to hide her panicked reaction from him. She had to put him off in a way he’d believe. She needed a reason he’d accept, one that he couldn’t challenge. “I…I really don’t want a mate, but…I’m seeing Carson.”

  By an immense effort of will she stopped her fingers from crossing. She hated lying! Loathed and felt dirty at the dishonesty. That meant she was stretching the definition of “seeing” to its limit—I did see Carson early this morning!—to imply they were dating.
>
  “Carson Erving?”

  As if there were multiple Carsons running around London and familiar to Liz. “Yes.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  Chapter 5

  Liz hammered on the door of Carson’s Brentford villa. The fashion show had not been fun. She’d been caught between Brandon and her aunt Natalie making big eyes at her, amused by his presence—something he’d noticed. Liz had been forced to whisper in his ear, “My family don’t know about my relationship with Carson”, adding to herself, for the simple reason that it doesn’t exist.

  “They won’t hear about it from me,” Brandon had replied.

  And somehow, a cold shiver had snaked down her spine.

  There was a relentlessness about Brandon that was all wolf. It had made his fortune on the stock market, but directed at her…Liz didn’t like it.

  Damage control! This was her problem, and she’d panicked and handled it badly. Dragging Carson into it was unconscionable. He had his own problems with the Elixir Gentian and the people after it, and he’d made it plain that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take on her problems.

  Okay. I can handle this. She ran the plan over in her head. First, she had to confess to Carson what she’d done. She winced. He wouldn’t like being claimed as her boyfriend. But then, she’d make everything better. She knew what they needed to do. They’d pretend to break up. She’d find one of her chatty cousins, “confess” the relationship breakdown, and Carson would be out of the picture.

  Then, Liz would think about a better strategy for dealing with Brandon. Maybe something simple and direct. She tried it out loud. “No, Brandon, I don’t want to date you.”

  “My name’s Carson.”

  “Oh damn.” Liz whirled around.

  Carson hadn’t answered the door. Instead, he’d walked around the corner of the house and now looked quizzically up at her. Evening sunlight haloed him in gold.

  “Hi,” she said weakly.

  “Hello.”

  “I guess you didn’t expect to see me back, here.” She walked slowly down the four front steps to join him on the miniscule front lawn.

  “Nope.”

  “About that…”

  A car slowed on the street and crawled past. Carson raised a hand in greeting. “A neighbor. Come around to the back.” Out of sight.

  “I won’t be here long,” she said to his back. A very lean and well-muscled back covered by a thin white t-shirt. At the fashion show she’d seen gorgeous clothes on beautiful people, but for her money, give her a man who could fill out a white t-shirt and faded blue jeans the way Carson did. Mmmhmm.

  He stopped to open a narrow side gate and caught her checking out his butt.

  She refused to blush. “I told Brandon we were dating.”

  The gate clicked open and Carson pushed it wide, gesturing her through. “I told you not to involve me.”

  “I know!” She hurried through the gate. “And now that you’ve explained about the gentians—wow! It looks bigger in daylight.” She marveled at the huge glasshouse hidden behind the street front Victorian villa and high brick walls. “Are those the plants?” She squinted to see through the glass panes.

  A security guard looked at them from the kitchen doorway, received a nod from Carson, and stayed in the house.

  Carson led Liz into the glasshouse.

  “It’s not as hot as I thought it would be.” She looked around at the orderly rows of plants growing in individual pots on raised stands. The leaves were dark green, luxuriant and healthy. The scent was more overwhelming, of damp earth, minerals and chlorophyll.

  “Sub-alpine conditions.” Hands in his back pockets, he stared at her.

  She remembered that they weren’t here for a tour of the greenhouse. “Brandon turned up at my house unexpectedly to escort me to Cobar’s fashion show. He indicated fairly strongly that he was interested in a relationship with me, a serious one.”

  “You knew that last night.”

  “Yes, but…he was at my house!”

  A keen look, searching out her secrets. “And that matters to you?” His hands came out of his pockets and he took a step closer to her. “Is he stalking you?”

  Starting to was her gut instinct. But if she said that, Carson would tell her grandfather, John would tell the family, and her life and house would be invaded by a protective pack. Brandon didn’t deserve to have his chance at being alpha of the Beo Pack derailed on the basis of her unverified instinct of trouble ahead.

  She shook her head. “Brandon hasn’t done anything wrong. I don’t like confrontation and I didn’t expect him at my house, and he waited till he was driving me to the fashion show to make his interest in a serious relationship with me plain. I panicked. I tried to let him down gently. You know, a hint.”

  “A hint?”

  She’d heard that tone from her brother, Steve. “What is it with men and scorning hints? Hints work! And they spare people’s feelings and dignity.”

  “They’re useless when a guy’s on a hunt. Then you need to hit us over the head.”

  “Well, I did. When Brandon wasn’t put off by me saying I don’t want a mate—”

  “You don’t?” Carson blinked.

  “Not right now. Don’t distract me. I was trying to tell you how, when Brandon wouldn’t listen, I didn’t know what to say, so I said I was dating you.”

  Silence. She couldn’t even hear the traffic on the road out front or planes flying overhead. The city noises had been shut out. She and Carson were in a world alone in the glasshouse.

  “But it’s okay,” she added hurriedly. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll tell one of my cousins that you and I are broken up. Shelley is a complete blabbermouth. She’ll tell the whole pack. Brandon will hear that you and I aren’t together before the sun goes down. You’ll be out of this.”

  “This.”

  Liz grimaced and wriggled her shoulders. “I really wish you’d stop repeating what I say.” Especially because he seemed to be repeating the truly pertinent points. She’d hoped to be able to gloss over things. She’d hoped he’d just let things go. After all, he and she weren’t anything to one another. They weren’t even pack mates. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, so that you weren’t surprised by someone commenting on our ex-relationship.”

  She tried to edge towards the door, but he caught her arm. His hold was gentle, but determined. She sighed.

  He hauled her closer. “Brandon really rattled you. Did he touch you? Threaten you?”

  “No!”

  “But you still tried to hide behind me.”

  “I panicked.”

  “That’s what interests me.” Carson released her arm, but only to slide his hand down to clasp hers. His fingers were calloused. A gardener’s hands. “You’re an A&E doctor. You’re trained to stay calm in a crisis.”

  “In my professional life.”

  “You wouldn’t have chosen that specialty if you weren’t suited to it.” He refused to be deflected. “Yet Brandon arriving at your house and declaring his interest in you has you rattled.”

  “I told you. I don’t like conflict.”

  “I’m aware. You’re an omega wolf. You don’t like conflict, but you can handle it, so he must have done something…” His jaw squared as she shook her head. “Let him keep thinking we’re dating.”

  “What?”

  “Then I’ll tell him to back off.”

  She was tempted to bang her head against the nearest hard surface, but that would be Carson’s chest. “I can tell him.”

  “What happened at the fashion show, after you’d told him you were with me?”

  “I told him we were seeing each other.” And she was stalling.

  A fact Carson apparently noticed, since he put a hand under her chin and tilted her face up so she met his eyes.

  She sighed, capitulating. “He did those little things. Helped me off with my jacket, seated me, sat beside me.” His cologne had been expensive and discreet, yet nowhere ne
ar as nice as Carson’s garden-rich scent. “Aunt Natalie thought he was courting me.”

  “After you’d told him you and I were dating.”

  “Now, don’t go alpha-male on me.”

  “He dissed my reputation.”

  “Is that some American slang? Dissed?” And when he didn’t respond, just scowled at his rows of plants, she rubbed his chest. “Carson?”

  A sub-vocal growl rumbled in his chest.

  She snatched her hand away. “Oh, good grief! You’re a closet alpha.”

  “Reputation is important.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard this spiel from Steve, my brother, too many times. You do not have to be constantly proving yourself.”

  “I’ve already proven myself. Maybe some people need a reminder.”

  Curiosity would be her downfall. “How did you prove yourself? I only heard you were a botanist, adventurous, but not…alpha-tough.”

  “You should ask Steve.”

  “Pardon? You know my brother?”

  “Who do you think introduced me to your grandfather? Steve and I were in a jungle along the Congo River. He was after one of the minor warlords. Nothing magical, just all around revolting behavior. There was an ambush. Steve lost two of his men. He was part of a mundane security force, a covert operation. Off the record. Essential.”

  Carson covered her hand, and she realized she’d been stroking his chest. Steve got like this when he discussed the worst of his work. Terse. Locked into himself.

  “We shifted to our animal forms.”

  “A jungle isn’t the easiest environment for a wolf.” She inched closer, wanting to give him a hug and offer comfort.

  “Night hides a lot of things. We survived. We shifted back to human to kill the warlord. We needed to take a photo.” A terrible, unamused smile. “Turned out the warlord was a lion-were. He got a lucky strike at Steve, knocked him…not out, but dazed.”

  “You fought the lion-were alone.” They were larger than wolf-weres, and this one would have been in his own territory.

  “His mate was with him.” The words barely emerged. Carson was back in the memories. “She was in charge of the child soldiers. Recruiting them. Training them. An excuse for brutality. I killed her.”