Oh God. And Rome? Rome knew these people. Trusted them with her life. Had he known? He’d called Ben a pup, both as Ben the human and Ben the wolf. Rome had to have known!
She put a shaking hand to her temple. Was Rome a werewolf as well?
Backing up, she dropped into the nearest chair, letting her mind process all the strange things she’d encountered and filed away.
It started that first night in Kaylie’s home when Willow had heard growls and looked around for a dog. Then the weird tingling she’d felt when Dean had basically gotten in Ben’s and Rome’s faces.
Was Dean a wolfman too? Then what about Kaylie? Oh God. And Tess? Uploading the time in Tess’s truck on the day of their shopping expedition, Willow recalled Tess’s strange reaction to Willow’s comment about being sick. Tess had sniffed her.
Was Tess a wolfman, too? Er, wolfwoman? Was Tess even now wandering the forest? Hunting?
Oh God. The hunting lodge. Now that all made a kind of weird sense.
Now her mind went crazy, zipping down the list of people she’d met and seen, wondering if they were all wolf people.
A prickling sensation crawled up her spine and she looked up to see three wolves staring at her, all breathing hard as if they’d been out running at breakneck speeds. Two were dark brown and one a burnished tan, the latter nearly the color of Ben’s hair, minus the sun streaks.
The three of them stood still as statues at the base of the steps, staring up at Willow, almost as if in—what? Fear? Amusement? Were they off laughing behind her back?
Could wolves laugh?
And why she wasn’t locking herself inside or running away screaming didn’t even cross her mind. Willow settled back, arms crossed tight over her vulnerable middle. Her eyes narrowed. She was simply too pissed to be scared, much less think rationally as she began to chide a two-hundred-pound predator. “Well. You got anything to say for yourself?” The tan wolf cocked his head, a human gesture that only made her angrier. “Ben.” She said his name like it was dog poo. Or wolf poo, in this case.
The two dark wolves started yipping, clearly unhappy as they danced about. She glared at them. “Shut up. Some bodyguards you are, running off and leaving me all alone. Don’t think I’m not going to strip the fur off you two as well. Scott. Joe.”
At her words, or maybe her tone, they lowered their heads, as if saying they were sorry.
Oh, how one’s life could change in a mere week. She’d made new friends, learned to ski, lost her virginity—and possibly her heart—and now she’d been confronted with the reality of a myth.
Her deadly glare shot back to Ben. “I’d better not turn into a wolf.” The tan creature shook its massive head and took a step towards her. Wariness rather than fear caused her to point a finger at the advancing wolf. “Do not get any closer.”
On the heels of the beast’s hearty sigh came another light show. Willow blinked in rapid succession as Ben, in all his two-legged naked glory, appeared. For once he seemed at a loss for words.
Good. Maybe that means he feels bad. The jerk.
But damn, he still looked good. The broad shoulders, the rippled torso, the muscled thighs that only a few hours ago had been cradled between her own. She could feel her interest rekindle and crossed her restless legs.
Stupid physical reaction.
His nose flared, eyelids dropping into that sleepy, sexy look that made her melt, as if he could scent her arousal. He took a purposeful step forward. Then another.
Oh God. He could smell her arousal, couldn’t he? Wolves, like dogs, could smell better than humans.
Oh hell. Dogs. Men. Pheromones. Now she remembered the whole conversation at Tess’s wedding shower.
She narrowed her eyes into little slits of pure fury, hoping he read the death threat glowing in her eyes as easily as he read her carnal reaction to him. Evidently he could, since he came to a halt at the top of the steps. He glanced away, his hands opening and closing into fists at his side. After a moment he cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind. While I enjoy the cool weather, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
“What?” His chin jutted at her chair and she shifted up, pulling his jeans and shirt from under her. He wanted his clothes? Fine. He could have them. She threw them at him, wide, but he caught them deftly in his big hands. After he was dressed he looked at her. “I’m afraid to say it, but, boots too, please?”
Reaching down, she hurled one boot after the other right at his face. Again he caught them easily.
She should have thrown them over the rail and into the snow.
“Why don’t we go inside for this?” Willow held back a nasty response when Ben looked pointedly at the two other wolves, obviously eavesdropping.