Forever Werewolf. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tryst had adjusted easily to his father’s mood swings—he’d grown up knowing nothing else—he quickly realized if he was going to learn what real, full-blooded werewolves were like, he’d have to find a few wolf friends. Which hadn’t been easy.
Unaligned wolves were not often welcomed to chum around with packs. But Tryst had managed to secure one close friend, an ice demon named Axel Fergusson, who had taught him things his father could have never thought to talk about. Axel knew about werewolves because he had once been one himself—actually, still was—before being cursed by Himself because he’d dated Bloody Mary, the chick who was known to be Himself’s girlfriend, so Axel had had it coming, Tryst figured.
Axel had been his lifeline. Especially when it came to dating advice. Never approach a pack female unless you have a death wish. Even if she gives you a wink. But if she’s alone, then go for it, and enjoy the ride while you could, which was never long. Pack females tended to surf the Parisian nightclubs for unaligned wolves as a vacation from their usual pack males. But they were never serious, just looking for some fun away from home. The different. The outsiders.
Ugh. Tryst hated that term.
Pouring his third cup of coffee, Tryst cautioned himself to slow down and enjoy the meal while he could. There was still another man missing, and if the crew that had worked through the early-morning hours had not found him, Tryst had work to do.
The maid had said the principal wanted to see him? Hmm, yes, he should go and apologize for his brisk treatment of him yesterday. At the very least, he should have bowed before the elder wolf. Rhys would not be happy to learn about his faux pas.
Tryst finished the last sausage link and stood back from the clean plate. A shower and a quick shave were in order. He had a long day ahead of him. Fingers crossed, that day would involve meeting up with the pretty princess who had been staring at his half-naked body last night.
“She wants me,” he said. “Score!”
He tossed an imaginary basketball and landed the trick hoop shot because he was so good, and yes, the woman wanted him.
Now he just had to sniff out any competition from the males in the pack, and then approach the target with confidence yet caution.
Alexis knocked on the guest room door. It was seven in the morning, which wasn’t early by any means, but she didn’t hear a sound on the other side of the door. Was the wolf still sleeping? He deserved the rest. The night team had not found the remaining man, so she entirely expected Hawkes would be out poking about in the snow as soon as the sun blinked across his eyelids. He’d bring up a dead man, surely, but his dedication heartened her.
She was fascinated by those with an ability to fit into any scenario or surrounding effortlessly, such as Hawkes had seemed to do here at Wulfsiege. Herself, she was never quite sure how to become a part of something even as innocuous as a conversation. It wasn’t shyness, but a touch of introversion. Okay, a lot of introversion. Her sister had gotten their father’s extroverted gene. And the pretty gene. And the popularity gene.
“Get over it,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes. Why was she feeling so sorry for herself suddenly? “This is not you.”
It was exhaustion—that was all she could summon as an excuse.
Lexi beat a fist on the door, and it swung inside on the third pound, almost hitting the grinning werewolf in the face. Wet hair dripped onto his shoulders and spilled in tears down his bare, buff chest. She found herself following the trail of water down, down over rigid abs, and through a thatch of red hair to the tight wrap of a white towel hugging his square, utterly graspable hips.
Trystan Hawkes stretched an arm along the door and winked at her. “You look as happy to see me as I am to see you, Princess. What’s up?”
At the double-edged question, she hastily averted her eyes from the mysterious folds of the towel. Good thing she wore dark glasses. “My father will see you now.”
“Not like this he won’t. Come inside. Let me pull on some clothes. The maid brought me something to wear.”
“I’ll wait out here.”
“In the hallway? That’s so security thug, which is not you. Seriously, come in and sit down. I’ll dress in the bathroom. Wouldn’t want to flash daddy’s little princess.”
“I am not daddy’s princess,” she said, finding she’d already followed him into the room. Lexi turned to face the door. Had she closed that? “Alana is.”
“Yeah?” he called from the bathroom. The door was open and steam misted out. “Is that your sister? Think I saw her during the chaos last night.”
“Yes, she’s …” Pretty, and attracted all the wolves’ eyes. “Yes.”
“Then you must be daddy’s secret weapon.”
“I am …” What had he meant by that?
Stepping closer to the bathroom door, she drew in the spicy aroma from what she knew was the guest soap. Cloves and leather were her favorite scent. So manly, so … Hell, what was she doing? She didn’t have time for romancing a fantasy.
Turning her back to the door, she crossed her arms and hiked out a heel. She wore gray today, from boot to neck. It was easier to go monochromatic, because when she started to mix colors bad things happened and people stared. Attribute that to her eyes, she figured. And enough about that.
“Yep, he put the sister out as bait,” Tryst called from the bathroom, “and keeps the smart one close by his side. Head of security, right?”
“Castle chatelaine is my official title.”
“What’s a chatelaine? Oh, wait, I think I heard a song about that once. ‘Miss Chatelaine …’” he sang.
She smiled at his rendition of the k.d. lang song, which she happened to like. “The chatelaine oversees all the domestic business in the castle, such as the kitchen, and preparing and ordering food for meals. Stocks. Events and parties. I keep track of the accountant and lawyers. As well, I oversee security.”
“So you do it all—yikes.”
Trystan walked right into her. Lexi abruptly stood straight. She’d been leaning a little too far into the bathroom doorway. Just soaking up the scent she admired. Yes, that was it.
She adjusted her sunglasses, which he’d nudged north when her forehead had bumped his chest. As her hand had pushed away from his abs she felt the rock-hard ridges and her fingers curled, wanting to touch a little longer. He burned her softly. How long could she hold her skin against his heat without igniting?
“What are you looking for, Lexi?”
“I, er …” Indeed, what had her fingers wanted to grasp, as if a lifeline she desperately needed? She crossed the room swiftly and grabbed the door handle. “You ready?”
He shook out his hair. Bending, he fluffed it a bit before the mirror, which managed to tousle it more messily. But he seemed happy with it, because he nodded at the mirror and winked.
The man and his winks! It wasn’t a flirtatious move. It was more of a tic. Or some kind of code for arrogant overcompensation?
Lexi tucked her head down to smirk, and noticed a streak of water darkened the front of her gray slacks. She’d gotten too close. What was that about? Keeping her personal boundaries—about five feet of distance from others at all times—had become like breathing to her, and to all in the castle. Everyone knew to walk a wide circle around her. When had those boundaries become so … permeable?
“You’re all about blending in, aren’t you?” the wolf asked as he pulled a soft blue sweater over his head and tugged it to cover the abs she wanted to lose a few hours observing. The sweater, perhaps a size too small, conformed to his structure, making him appear even more naked. And the blue really captured his blue eyes and made them dazzle even more. “Dressing in one color so you don’t stand out. Though wearing sunglasses inside is pushing