Bitten Too (2 page)

Jorge opened a door and ushered her inside a morning room with a garden view. "Are you familiar with Grauwolf Haus?"

"Yes. My parents are old friends of Lady Grauwolf. We're here no less than twice a month. I've been visiting since I was a child."

And you're still human. Interesting.
"Then you know where we can talk in private?"

She took a halting step then stopped. "Private?"

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets to fight an almost irresistible urge to touch her. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. Though unmistakabl
y
human,
her fragrance tempted him like no
human he'd ever encountered.
S
weet.
Delectable.

Chapter Two

Why did she trust him? His brother had made Yasmine nervous. No, Youel had
scared
her. Jorge shared
his brother’s
menacing energy, so why had she agreed to come inside with him?

His slanted, silver eyes stared at her. They contained intelligence and a hint of mischief and cunning. Did he hope to see something in her? Was that why he studied her so intently?

"I need to hear about what happened to my brother from someone who was here
the night he died
. Your family enjoys a close friendship with my aunt
.
S
urely you attended th
e
party. Would you deny me this request?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. I don't have much to sa
y
, though. I came to the party but I wasn't there…where he died. I'm told he fell down a long flight of stairs."

His features went tight. He took her hand and headed toward a doorway.

Heat from his hand traveled up her arm. Goosebumps sent fine hairs on end.
I have no idea where you're taking me. What you intend. I should resist. Why don't I?

He went into the front hallway, opened a door and found a closet.

"Wait," she said, her voice shaky. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribcage.

He tried the next door and
pulled
her into the library. He closed the door behind them but didn't let go of her hand.

She
stared
at where his skin burned against hers. Something stirred in her. Something she'd felt before, but in a dream…maybe. Yes, a dream. She gasped. Many dreams. Night after night.
Oh, God. Are you…?

She boldly reached up and pulled a tie keeping his black hair bound at the back of his head. His hair fell, straight and sexy, to his shoulders.

"I know your face," she whispered.

"You mean Youel's?" He took the cord from her fingers.

I've been dreaming of you.
"No. Yours."
I've been dreaming of your face above me. Your lips on mine. Your hands upon me.
Excitement started as a jolt in her stomach, then went lower and sent fingers of tingling sensation into the folds between her thighs. She gasped and yanked her hand from his.

His gaze narrowed. His expression hardened into something wanting. Something needy. Hungry.
"Miss Hanswald?"

"I have to go."
Because if I tell you you've been visiting me in my dreams, you'll think me insane.

"Don't." He reached for her. "I need to know."

She evaded him, skidding backward on slick hardwood. "I have to go. I'm so terribly sorry. Really
,
I am." She turned on her heel and ran behind a far bookcase to a hidden door that led directly outside. When her feet hit grass, she didn't stop. She raced toward the rear lawn. When she came to the east wing's corner, she stopped and pressed a palm to the upward sweep of her hair to make sure it hadn't toppled.

"We're not finished
.
"
Jorge's deep voice
came from
right behind her.

She startled but refused to face him. "Don't talk to me, Lord Grauwolf."

"Why?"

She chanced a glance over her shoulder and immediately paid the price
.
A
shock of awareness wetted her throbbing slit. "This isn't real," she whispered. "It's just a dream, and I'm going to wake up. Now."

With that, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and tried for some semblance of calm as she made her way to the gathering.

* * *
*

At
Malveaux
Castle
that night, Amelia took Yasmine's hand and headed out of the dining room.
"Will you accompany me to my bedchamber? I need a wardrobe adjustment before we continue with this evening's entertainments, and I'd like a word with you."

"Of course." Yasmine waved to her mother who offered an acknowledging nod. She followed her friend, weaving their way through guests and tray-bearing servants.

Upstairs, her friend led the way to the end of the front hallway and ushered her through a large double door. A maid inside curtseyed.

"I won't need you until the end of the party," Amelia told the servant. "I believe the kitchen staff is preparing to eat their dinner. Go join them. I know you haven't had a chance to eat yet."

"Yes, Lady Malveaux." The maid dipped again. "Thank you, my lady." She quietly left.

Amelia moved to a tall mirror and smoothed a hand over her blond curls. "Are you aware of Lady Grauwolf's visitor?"

Yasmine stepped behind and brought her friend's sleeve higher to better cover her bite scar. "Yes. Lord Jorge Grauwolf, Marquis of Austral. I was attending Lady Grauwolf's lawn party when he arrived."

"And what's your impression?"

She lowered her gaze, hoping Amelia didn't see too much with her new, sharper perception. Yasmine didn't dare admit to dreaming of the handsome nobleman. "He seems angry. Lost, maybe. He asked me about what happened to his brother."

Her friend reached behind and pointed at her button fastenings. "Undo me, please. Honestly, I can't breathe after that lamb. It's like a rock in my stomach."

She retrieved a buttonhook from Amelia's dressing table and began working on the damask. "I told him what I knew, but it wasn't much. I don't think he's satisfied."

"He's not. He won't leave until he knows, though I sense his time's short."

"Why?"

"Jorge Grauwolf has family relying on him. He'll need to return home soon. Are you aware he's a danger?"

"Well, no. He's not—"

"I know he's not like Youel. I'm glad you recognize that. He's not a danger to you. He's seeking revenge on the people who destroyed his monster of a brother."

"Isn't that your husband?"

Her friend met her gaze in the mirror's reflection. "You know more than you let on." A smile softened Amelia's beautiful face. "I've suspected as much, especially lately. Yes, Ebenoral was responsible, but there are others, as well. Lord Grauwolf doesn't realize how close to him this all is."

Yasmine untied her friend's stays then tied them right back, only looser. Making the ribbons even along the corset's eyes, she asked, "Do you think he'll come here
,
try to hurt Ebenoral or you?"

"Sure, he will." She put a hand to her chest and inhaled as far as her corset would allow.
"
Thank you so much. That's much better. Listen, you need to know what happened. He won't hear t
he truth
from us, but he might from you. I think, ultimately, it may have to come from his aunt, but you can help prepare him for what he's currently unwilling to accept."

"Why me?" Yasmine employed the buttonhook to begin closing her friend's gown.

Amelia stared at her in the mirror for an awkward few seconds. "It'll become clear when the time's right, so please listen carefully."

Her friend told her about what happened when Lady Grauwolf called Youel, Ebenoral, and some of the party guests below stairs the night Youel died.
She wasn’t
surprise
d, however
. For years, Yasmine had suspected werewolves ran the
Rift
River
Valley
. Amelia's words confirmed her suspicion, and lent credence to the strange dreams she'd had of Jorge.

What she had to figure out now, however, was whether those dreams were a warning of what to avoid, or a foreshadowing of what she couldn't avoid.

* * *
*

Sinking into deeper shadow, Jorge settled his spine against the trunk of a thick tree. Every window in
Malveaux
C
astle
's first floor glowed. People moved from room to room, their elegant eveningwear gracing the night as they stood in small groups before the windows.

Servants in pale livery stood at attention at every door and along the U-shaped drive outlining an elongated courtyard. They all smelled of wolf. He'd never get past so many.

Pine and flower pollen combined with wolf pheromones, and should've calmed his nerves. Cricket chirps and amphibian gulps created a night symphony
but didn’t
put him at ease. Instead, a pervasive restlessness had him tapping his thighs.

He focused on his anger. He needed a plan, but he couldn't think. His thoughts refused to break free of his
afternoon
encounter with Yasmine Hanswald. He gave his head a vigorous shake. How long until his younger sister begged for his return, or his sickly uncle's health failed altogether? How long until his aunt realized his intent for revenge?

Orchid and Queen Anne's lace reached his senses on a dancing breeze. He instantly perked.
Yasmine.
He peered over a cluster of brush. The beautiful human dressed all in white picked her way through gravel as she followed her parents toward a carriage waiting in a line.

Yasmine Hanswald's visit to the castle meant she was a human friend to Malveaux royalty. Now here was something he could use.

Staying in darkness, he followed the carriage to her home – a four-story brownstone set at the edge of town and within view of the village church.
T
he property
displayed
every element
of a gentleman
's home
-
a stable, sizeable storage house, carriage house, rolling lawn in front and a decent garden at the back.

He clung to shadows alongside the house while a footman opened the carriage door and lowered a set of steps. The front door opened, spilling golden light onto the bare dirt drive, and her parents exited the carriage. In conversation, the two slowly made their way to the house.

Yasmine's pale, elegant hand emerged from the shadows to alight on the footman's gray liveried arm. A bit of slender ankle showed as her white slipper went to the first step. Then her face appeared, beautiful and serene.

Her lovely countenance did something to him. Stirred a hunger in him he didn't understand. Didn't trust.

She hesitated then glanced his way. Did she sense him? But how? Her lips parted, and her head tilted as if she listened.

You know I’m here.
He showed his face at the house's corner, but immediately backed into shadow once more. She stood still, staring at the corner of the house where he waited. The footman climbed onto the back of the conveyance, and the carriage rolled away.

"Yasmine, darling," said her mother from the open doorway
,
"
a
ren't
you coming?"

She didn't take her eyes from where he stood. "Not yet. I'd like to take some air in the garden."

A
s her father went inside
, tiny charges of anticipation raced along Jorge’s skin
.

"That's fine, sweetheart," said her mother. "I'll sen
d
Trudi out to keep you company."

"Don't wake my maid. I'll only be a few minutes. I'll wake her when I come in." Yasmine took a step closer.

Jorge's heart leapt, and he inhaled a sharp breath infused with the scent of her.
H
e
slowly backed
to the
rear
of the house
, willing her to follow
. Yellow light from two windows cast enough illumination into the garden to
cast
plant-shaped shadows across stone walkways. As the two women exchanged a couple more words, he moved to a thick tree and leaned against its trunk. He crossed his arms and settled a knee against a marble bench.

"Lord Grauwolf?" she whispered, entering through an opening in the garden's wall.

He cleared his throat.

She stopped short. "What are you doing here?" she snapped in a whisper.

H
er ire brushed
a wave of heat
along the fine hairs of his face. "I came to see you." He feigned a bored expression, though she had every nerve in his body on edge.