The Keeping(83)

Luckily the boys would still be out at the bar and not see him return home naked. Oh, the teasing he’d get over that one, if caught. For the most part it was a source of pride that pure-blooded Lycans could change and magick back whatever they’d been wearing when they shifted. Only the teenagers, during their first few changes forgot that crucial step. Of course, those who were the products of ‘mixed matings’ weren’t as lucky. Human genes, no matter how many generations back, interfered with the transfer of magical abilities, one of the first to be lost being the ability to shift forms while clothed.

Other tricks, such as sensing auras and mind-reading between mates varied considerably depending on the purity of the blood line. A few of the aristocracy had supposedly even been able to appear and disappear, though Ryne had yet to encounter anyone who had actually seen the phenomenon occur.

Ryne knew his mother was pure-blooded, but hadn’t seen his father since he was two and had little knowledge of that side of his heritage, though the man must have been of relatively good stock, given Ryne’s own abilities. The pack was somewhere in the southern states, but his mother had never spoken of what happened there between herself and his sire. Ryne had never inquired. He and his mother didn’t have a close relationship; his bastard of a step-father had seen to that, dragging them all over the country from pack to pack, neglecting them, and flying into fits of rage...

Memories from the past brought a snarl to his lips. Thankfully his mother, in a moment of clarity, had finally left Kane and himself with her home pack before heading off with her unstable mate. Ryne never knew what she saw in the man, but she’d given up her children rather than leave him. The only good thing Ryne could say about his step-father was that he’d sired Kane, his half-brother.

Kane... Damn, Ryne hoped there wasn’t a picture of his brother on the camera. How could he have been so careless as to not erase the memory chip before lending it? Of course, he’d never thought Melody would download all the pictures on to her computer, but he should have anticipated the event. At least, Melody said she hadn’t really looked at the pictures and he’d sensed no deception in her aura. The damage had been contained, but who knew what slip-up could happen next? He really needed to send the woman packing before she stumbled on to something she shouldn’t.





Chapter 22





Greyson stared at the wolf picture making a show of being lost in thought. He knew Aldrich was waiting for an answer, but he wasn’t inclined to hurry. The damned man could wait. It didn’t matter that time was money. Money was the least of his worries, he had too much of the filthy stuff as it was. Aldrich would get paid for his time and if he had other clients waiting back at his stuffy downtown office, that was too bad. He shouldn’t have scheduled them in for the same day. The lawyer knew, when he had been hired, that all other clients would have to take a back seat. Greyson Inc. didn’t pay out the exorbitant fees that Aldrich demanded just to be told they didn’t fit into the lawyer’s schedule.

He listened to the faint sound of creaking leather. Good. Aldrich was shifting in his seat. The man was getting impatient, but didn’t dare say so. Suppressing a chuckle, Greyson kept his back turned. Aldrich was becoming too full of himself. It was time to put the lawyer back in his place and show him who was really in charge. Another minute or two and maybe he’d put the man out of his misery.

In the meantime, Greyson amused himself studying his picture. The animal held its head regally, challenging the onlooker. Its amber eyes conveyed an intelligence that no normal wolf could possibly possess. Ah...but then it was no normal wolf. He knew that and now, he suspected Mr. Taylor did as well. This no longer appeared to be a case of an unwitting photographer snapping an idle picture that turned out to be one in a million. Taylor’s evasive answers, his reticence to be interviewed, all pointed to one thing. He knew.

Suddenly swivelling his chair around, he caught the lawyer off guard, surprising a sour look on the man’s face. A perverse thrill filled him.

“Ha! I caught you, Leon. Sneering at me behind my back!”

He had to give Aldrich credit; the man’s features were now as bland as oatmeal. “Of course not, sir. A slight case of allergies. I was merely attempting to discreetly sniffle.”

“Good try, Aldrich, but I know you think I’m an arrogant bastard and you’re right, I am. So sneer if you want and I’ll keep you waiting as long as I want.”

Aldrich had the good sense to not argue back, merely inclining his head.

Greyson chuckled, pleased that he had yet again proven he had the upper hand. “So, Taylor’s giving cock-and-bull stories to avoid answering questions, is he?”