Possessed by a Warrior. Sharon Ashwood
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wolf didn’t come any closer, but it didn’t budge. She glanced at the can’s label. It was that ghastly hairspray Aunt Mavis used, the kind that could hold a hairdo through a category three hurricane. She’d heard of women using the stuff like Mace. She aimed the nozzle at the wolf.
“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot.”
It was hard to tell, but the beast looked confused. It tilted its head, ears swiveling in her direction.
“Back off!” she snapped again, waving the can in hopes the wolf would get the message.
By this point, her nerves were brittle enough to shatter. She’d nearly been killed once already tonight! Where were all the security guards who were supposed to rush in and save her? Her relatives? She heard conversation, doors shutting, but no one was storming to her rescue. Where was Sam? He’d promised to guard her, but the moment she’d needed him he had vanished.
The wolf sat down, effectively trapping her. Hot, sweaty panic welled up, leaving her sick and shaking. She was in trouble, but no one was here to help her. Claustrophobia squeezed her chest. She had to get out of this bathroom!
“Go away,” she shouted.
The wolf barked, making her jump so hard her feet actually left the floor. Reflexively, she squeezed the nozzle of the can, releasing a hissing cloud of perfumed spray. The wolf staggered backward into the corridor with a ragged whine. The chemical reek of the spray clogged Chloe’s throat. She covered her nose with her terry-towel sleeve and blinked hard, but for a blessed moment the doorway was clear.
Instinct kicked in. Chloe bolted for freedom, her bare feet hardly touching the floor.
Then she saw security guards ahead, running toward her and raising their guns at the wolf. A few of the other guests were peering around corners, too frightened to come to her aid.
“Don’t fire!” she yelped, afraid for herself, the bystanders and the wolf. She glanced behind her.
Like a shaggy nightmare, the creature bounded after her, claws scraping and red tongue lolling. Chloe scrambled, running into the door frame in her haste to retreat. Her feet slithered on the hardwood as she tried to turn and shut the door.
The wolf attempted to stop, all four legs going straight. Its nails skidded on the hardwood floor.
Unsuccessfully. Golden eyes going wide with alarm, it bashed into her, the full weight of it colliding with her legs. Her feet flew out from under her and they both went down in a tangle of fur and terry cloth.
The wolf made a pathetic whimper. Chloe sucked in a shallow breath, terrified that if she moved, if she attracted its attention, it would bite. The stink of hairspray pervaded the air, making her want to sneeze. She froze, fighting the fierce tickling in her nose and throat. A sneeze might startle it.
It was a heavy beast, especially draped over her legs. The thick, coarse fur tickled and was disgustingly sticky with spray. Gingerly, she lifted her head a degree, peering down at it. The thing drooped its ears, giving her a wounded look with its great yellow eyes. Its ruff stuck up at odd angles, as if it was going for a fauxhawk.
“Where did you come from, anyway?” she murmured, forgetting herself.
It whined again, resting its chin on her knee, and gave a tentative tail wag. Apparently, it wasn’t going to eat her. Maybe it had eaten someone already. Maybe Aunt Mavis.
At that thought, Chloe experienced a moment of mixed emotions.
Now the security guys were crowding around. Sam burst through them, SIG Sauer drawn and searching out the enemy. When he saw Chloe, he lowered the gun, his gray eyes giving her a look that melted her where she lay. She immediately forgave him for being late.
“You cried out.” His voice was thick with concern. With a jerk of his chin, he sent the other men away. Obviously used to his command, they went at once, herding the scatter of bystanders back to their rooms.
Magnificent. It was the only word to describe Sam.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
But unobservant. “I think so?” she replied from underneath the wolf.
Sam snapped his fingers. The creature rose, shaking itself, and gave Sam a dirty look. Chloe felt tingling through her legs as circulation returned. She struggled to sit up. Sam glowered at the beast.
“Is he yours?” she asked.
“Sadly.”
The wolf edged toward Chloe, its tail between its legs. Sam narrowed his eyes. Chloe started to rise, but the wolf leaned into her, burying its head against her shoulder.
“Hey.” Startled, Chloe carefully scratched the wolf’s ears. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Such a big, handsome boy. I’m sorry I sprayed you, but you scared me.”
The wolf wagged its tail, and she started to use both hands.
“Heel,” Sam growled.
The wolf gave a start at the sound of Sam’s voice, raising its head from Chloe’s embrace.
“Now.”
The wolf slunk to Sam’s side.
“Why haven’t I seen him before?” Chloe asked.
Sam’s eyes flicked to Chloe’s, then away. “I’ve been keeping him in the garden. I don’t know how he got into the house.”
Chloe heard the lie, but couldn’t make sense of any of it. Her brain was too fogged with fatigue. Too preoccupied with the fact that, if the wolf hadn’t been tame, she might have ended up chow.
Why had Sam left her alone and why had he just lied to her about having a pet? Big, strong and protective was great, but reliable and honest counted for plenty.
He noticed her frown. “Chloe?”
She shrugged, suddenly feeling a lot less forgiving. “It’s dangerous to let your furry friend roam. Something could happen to him.”
The wolf licked his fur and made a gagging sound.
“He’s a big boy. I’ve been thinking of sending him to obedience classes.” Sam offered her his hand.
Chloe took it, letting him pull her to her feet. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else is there?”
“I thought you were guarding my door.”
“I was doing some investigating. I left someone to take my place, but he wandered off without authorization. We’re going to have words. Many words.” He glared at the wolf again.
The hallway was empty now except for the three of them. Sam held her by her upper arms, so close that her robe brushed against him. “Chloe, I’m sorry.”
She could see the darkness in his eyes again, just as it had been during that strangely charged moment in her bedroom. His look was one of possession, fired now by the adrenaline of the moment. He had come to save her—from where, she couldn’t say. The damp scent of the night clung to him, enticing in its mystery.
At that moment she realized that she’d leaned into him. Something about the man drew her like a magnet. She tilted her face up, staring into his steel-gray eyes. The need she saw there made her pulse kick up a notch, beating hard and thick in her throat. Suddenly the terry cloth robe was too hot, suffocating instead of cozy. She had a mad urge to peel it off, and then the nightshirt she wore under it, too. It was a fleeting, silly notion but it still wound through her thoughts, tempting her to give in to the demand implicit in that possessive look. Chloe tightened her belt, fighting an aching need to respond. Blood flooded to her face, chased there by the boldness of her thoughts.
A quiver passed over Sam’s lips, not humor but another more intense emotion she couldn’t read. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, letting them linger there, as if testing the heat of her blush. The