Lori Handeland - Marked by the Moon

“You use the Internet?”

“Most of us may be very old, but we have learned to leave our past behind.” She glanced at the bric-a-brac on the armoire. “For the most part. We live in this world now.”

“You call hiding away in the Arctic Circle living in the world?” Alex asked.

“It is the only choice that we have.” Ella left the room, the downward slant of her shoulders making Alex want to slam her own head against the wall a few times until she knocked some sense into herself.

Alex had never had to watch what she said before. For the most part, everything Alex thought came straight out of her mouth. But then she’d never had to interact in polite society. And who would have thought a werewolf village in the middle of the tundra would be considered polite society?

Alex followed Ella to the kitchen, where the woman wiped an already immaculate countertop with an equally pristine cloth.

“I was rude,” Alex began.

“It’s natural to wonder about your new home, but Julian must have told you why we live as we do.”

“So he can be Lord of the Wolves?”

“He is lord of these wolves. And because of that, because of him, we live safely and well. There are hunters out there, Alex. They would shoot you with a silver bullet for no other reason than that you exist, then leave you to burn without a backward glance.”

Alex had nothing to say to that since she had once been one of them.

Julian tapped on Ella’s door. When she didn’t answer, he went inside.

He found the two women sitting next to each other, fine china espresso cups near at hand. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were poring over French fashion magazines.

What the hell?

“Problem, Julian?” Ella didn’t even look up from the magazine. She’d probably heard him come in the door. Hell, she’d probably heard him walking up the street.

Alex on the other hand, leaped off the chair so fast she set it rocking back and forth; it would have fallen if Ella hadn’t reached out a slim, lovely hand to stop it.

“You—you just walk into anyone’s house whenever you like?” she demanded.

“I knocked.” Even to his ears, the words sounded defensive. “You were too busy with—” He waved his hand at the magazines, which were French and fashionable. Of all the things he might have expected Alex to be doing, this was not one of them.

“We were engrossed. Girl talk, Julian.”

Ella gave his name a French twist on the J, turning it into something between a Z and a G . She only did that when she was irritated with him. What had he done? His eyes narrowed on Alex. What had she said he’d done?

“Unless there’s something urgent,” Ella continued, “I suggest you run along before we bore you to death.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Run along.”

He lifted a brow. “Is there some reason you don’t want me here?”

“How much time do you have?” she muttered.

Ella laughed, startling them both. Alex turned to her at the same time Julian did, and together they snapped, “What’s so funny?”

Ella’s smile widened. “You pretend to loathe each other, but you do not. As they say on TV: ‘What is up with that?’”

“You’re crazy,” Julian said.

“So I have been told.” She glanced back and forth between them. “Usually when I am right.”

Julian had sent Alex with Ella because Ella was the most no-nonsense woman he knew. She had an uncanny knack of seeing the true person behind the facade. He trusted her opinion.

But seeing her with Alex, shoulder-to-shoulder like the best of friends, unnerved him. Didn’t Ella smell the evil on her? He could.

To prove the theory, Julian sniffed—once, twice. Hell. All he could smell was her .

“What did you want, Julian?”

He’d come to bring Alex to Cade, but along the way he’d realized they needed to have a talk. She should keep her mouth shut about who she was, what she’d done, why she was here.

However, now he found himself wondering if he should at least tell Ella the truth. It had not been fair of him to command the Frenchwoman to welcome the enemy into her home when she hadn’t even known the enemy was here. Ella’s sound judgment was obviously being clouded by—

What? He didn’t think Alex had the ability to pretend to be something she was not. From what he’d observed, she was pretty damn honest about everything. For instance—how very much she wanted to kill him.

“Come with me,” he ordered, and stalked toward the front door, expecting Alex to follow. He would speak with her on the way to the lab, where she would give blood to his brother. He really wanted to know why she was migraine-free after being touched by nearly two hundred werewolves.

He opened the door, stepping back to let Alex go first. Except she wasn’t there. She was hovering in the entryway between the kitchen and the hall.

“I told you to come,” he said.

“I told you to die,” she returned. “But you’re still breathing.”

Quickly choked laughter drifted from behind her.

How could she deny his commands? No one else ever did.

However, when he observed more closely, he noticed that she would surreptitiously take two steps forward before clenching her hands, gritting her teeth, and taking a slow, difficult step back.

“Come,” he said again.

She took three quick steps before she could stop herself. Then she punched her fist into the wall.

Actually she punched her fist through the wall.

Whoops.

Ella hurried into the hall, saw him standing by the door scowling and Alex with her fist now stuck in the plaster. That was going to be a pain in the ass to fix, and it was going to leave a mark.

In the wall.

“Quit badgering her!” Ella ordered.

Julian’s mouth hung open. “But she—Your wall. Big hole.”

“I can see, Julian. Obviously you can’t.”

Alex yanked her fist free, sending plaster flying every which way. Some of it landed in Ella’s hair, but she didn’t seem to care. Which was strange considering he’d seen her throw the mother of all fits over a stray leaf in her fur.

“See?” he repeated, confused.

Ella pointed to the ground. “She can’t go walking in the snow. She has no shoes. Bring some. Size nine.” Then she took Alex by the arm and led her back into the kitchen.

“You don’t know much about men, do you?” Ella asked.

“He’s not a man.”

Alex’s knuckles stung on the outside, ached on the inside, but she wasn’t really hurt, and they were already healing.

Her embarrassment, however, appeared there to stay. She’d behaved like the animal he’d made her. Every day, in so many ways, she was drifting farther from the Alex she knew in the direction of an Alex she did not want to become.

“He is a man,” Ella said firmly. “And a good one.”

Alex blew a derisive breath from between her lips.

“I can smell the desire between you.”

Alex winced. Nothing wrong with Ella’s nose.

“But you also seem to hate each other.”

Or her intuition.

“Yet he gave you our gift and brought you home.”

“This isn’t a gift,” Alex said, “and I’m not home.”

“You could be,” Ella murmured, but Alex pretended not to hear.

She sat at the island and finished her coffee. The jolt of caffeine gave her the guts to say, “I’m sorry about the wall.”

“Walls can be fixed.” Ella took a chair on the opposite side, wisely giving Alex her space. “I’ve never seen anyone deny him before. When he speaks, we listen. We want to. Don’t you?”

“Hell, no. When he speaks I want to rip off his face.”