Page 2 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

S hit, shit, shit.

Heather looked back over her shoulder as she hurried to get across the street before the light turned green. Not that there was much traffic this time of the night, but with her luck, she'd manage to walk right in front of the one and only car that was on the road.

By some miracle, she made it safely to the other side, and then promptly tripped up the curb and onto the sidewalk, barely catching herself before she face-planted on the dirty concrete.

Seriously?

Pulling her blue, borrowed, running jacket back into place, she kept going as if nothing had happened, grateful that there wasn't anyone around at the moment to witness her near fall.

It's not like she was one of those tiny girls that could get away with being klutzy and people (aka - guys) just thought it was cute.

Nooo. She was twenty-eight, not quite five foot nine, and…

Well, let's not go there. Suffice it to say, she was definitely not in any danger of ever being accused of starving herself.

Heather jerked at a loud clank behind her, her heart leaping wildly within her chest, but it was just a construction truck finishing up some roadwork before the early morning rush hour. She admonished herself for being so jumpy, but she had the strangest feeling that she was being followed.

A certain tall, dark, and handsome picture of manly yumminess flitted through her mind, and she glanced behind her again, managing not to trip this time.

He wouldn't.

Would he?

She shook her head and pushed down the tiny piece of hope that was trying to float to the surface of her despair. Brock Hume would not be following her. Why would he?

Yeah, yeah, so they'd exchanged some flirty looks and maybe, possibly, she had made an innuendo or two (or four) on the flight here from their home in China. That didn't mean he'd go through all the trouble of following her when she left. That man was—

Nice? Tall? Brave?

Nope, there was just no other way to put it. He was hot, sticky, sex on a stick was what he was. He could get any woman he wanted.

A prettier woman.

A skinnier woman.

A woman who didn't know, or didn't care, that he wasn't a man at all, but a freaking werewolf.

Remembering her shock when she'd found out upon their arrival in Seattle that he howls at the full moon once a month, she wondered how she hadn't figured it out earlier.

No mortal human was that hot. The guy had to be at least six-foot-seven of pure muscle.

Long brown hair, shot through with gold highlights, hung thick and wavy past his shoulders.

Bright blue eyes had smiled at her from underneath heavy, dark brows and a wide forehead.

And a trimmed beard did nothing to hide his strong jaw and perfect lips.

Heather heaved a wistful sigh.

But it was more than his good looks. And she—of all people—should have sensed it right away. Yet, she hadn't. Not in the slightest. And that was what worried her more than anything.

Turning the corner, she saw the stop ahead where she could catch the light rail back to the airport. She checked her phone for the time. It was almost four in the morning, and the next train didn't come for another forty minutes. She could try to call a cab, or she could just wait.

Glancing around, she saw the usual suspects hanging around on the street: a group of late night partiers stumbling home from the bar, shouting obscene words every few steps at no one in particular.

A middle-aged couple waiting at the stop with their suitcases, shaking their heads and tsk’ing at the young people.

And a couple of homeless guys talking quietly on the corner. Safe enough.

As she passed them, she did what she always did when she came across someone who was down on their luck. She fished out a couple of twenties and pressed one into each of their hands. "Get something to eat with this, ok?"

After a surprised pause, the older one told her, ”Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Thank you. God bless you.” His hair was white as snow against his dark brown skin, and his black eyes were tired, but kind. They crinkled at the corners when his face lit up in a grateful smile.

She smiled back at him and started walking again. "Food. I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am," he called after her.

She arrived at her stop and smiled at the middle-aged couple, then pulled out her cell to call her parents back in Dalian.

As she listened to their phone ring on the other end of the line, she mentally figured out the time difference.

It was the evening of the following day at her parent's house, and they were probably getting ready for bed.

"Hello? Heather?" her mom answered right before voice mail picked up.

"Hi, Mom."

"Where are you, honey? I thought you were coming over for dinner tonight? Did you have to work late at the hospital again?"

"No. I've got a couple of days off, believe it or not. I'm actually in Seattle right now."

"Seattle? As in Seattle, Washington?"

"That would be the one. Long story, Mom. I'll catch you up when I get home."

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening.

"Mom?" she asked. "Are you there?"

"Heather, get out of that city right now."

Heather frowned. She'd never experienced that particular tone in her mom's voice before. Granted, she'd never been a problem child, but she'd heard her fair share of tones from her mother's mouth all the same. And that was not one of them.

She heard her father asking what was going on and her mom answering him, speaking fast and quiet.

He didn't sound happy either. Confused but not wanting them to worry, she hurried to reassure them.

"Well, I'm actually at a stop right now waiting for the light rail to take me to the airport so I can fly home. "

"Heather," her mom said. "Listen to me very carefully. Do not wait for the light rail. You need to get into a cab. Right now. Do you hear me? Find a cab, and get to the airport."

She looked up and down the street. Yeah, not many cabs cruising around at 4AM. "Mom, it's after four in the morning here…"

"Go, Heather! Now! Steal a damn car if you have to! Get on a plane, and take the first flight out of there to anywhere else. Then call me and let me know where you are and we'll get you home."

"All right, all right." She looked around again. Still no cabs, or cars to hijack for that matter. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Mom?"

"I'll tell you when you get home. Just get the hell out of there. And hurry! Before they find you."

The shock of hearing her mother actually curse ringing in her ear, Heather agreed without any more questions or arguments. She hung up the call.

What in the world was that all about? Who was going to find her?

She thought about calling her friend Grace (after all, she was the reason Heather was in Seattle to begin with), but then remembered Gracie had lost her cell phone and hadn't gotten a new one yet.

Besides, the chances were good that her best friend was busy with her sexy British boyfriend.

At least she hoped she was. They'd flown all the way from China to get to his friends in the off-chance they could help him.

Hopefully, he'd shown up here by now too.

Gracie deserved some good stuff in her life.

Heather glanced around the interior of the rain cover she was under, looking for taxi advertisements, as she wasn’t familiar with this city.

When she didn’t see any, she thought about asking the middle-aged couple if they knew the names of any so she could look it up, however they were huddled together in the corner, arguing about whether they should have taken a shuttle or not.

Pulling up her browser on her phone, she tried to Google it, but her signal was low and it was taking f-o-r-e-v-e-r.

So she finally decided to just start walking back toward the apartments where Gracie was staying.

If she didn't see a taxi on the way, she'd see if Grace or someone else there could give her a ride.

Hopefully she could get in and out of the building without running into a certain werewolf—the reason she was leaving to begin with—as he was staying there too.

As she passed the homeless guys again, the younger one stepped toward her. "Where are you going?"

Still worried about how her mom had acted on the phone, she glanced over distractedly as she walked by. "Oh, change of plans. You guys take care."

He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could walk away. "I don't think you understand. Where are you going? Heather? Is that what it is now?"

Well. That got her attention.

She took a closer look at him. He didn't look familiar.

Frowning, she was about to tell him he must have mistaken her for someone else when the wind picked up and his dirty blonde hair blew away from his eyes.

As she watched in disbelief, the irises swelled and contracted and changed until she was looking into a kaleidoscope of colors radiating out from the pupils.

Tearing her eyes from the hypnotizing display, she looked at his ears. His skullcap covered them, but she could see the distinct outline of a pointy tip on the one side.

No, it couldn't be.

Mind-numbing fear began to slide its icy fingers through her veins as it all suddenly became perfectly clear. She wanted to run away but she couldn't move, couldn't speak, as her eyes were pulled back to his without her control.

"Hey, man," the older man came to her rescue. "Leave the nice lady be now. She's been nothing but kind to us." When the other man ignored him and refused to release her, he pulled the twenty she'd given him out of his pocket. "Here, man. Here. You can have my part of the money that she gave us."

Not taking his strange eyes from her, he responded, "I don't want your money, old man."

She took a fortifying breath and forced herself to smile at the old man’s concern. "It's okay. We know each other. This is my long, lost…cousin. Uh, Frank. Yeah. I just didn't recognize him before. We haven’t seen each other in a long time."

Her rescuer glanced back and forth between them, seemingly unconvinced.

"Really," she assured him. "It's okay. We just have some family stuff to hash out. You know how that is. I'll be perfectly fine. I promise."

As she watched, the younger guy's eyes glimmered once with approval, and then faded to a muddy brown again.

Still not releasing her arm, he turned to grin at his friend.

"It's all good, Ed. Thank you for helping me out last night.

I didn't realize Heather lived here. I'm just surprised to see her is all.

Go on and get yourself a good breakfast, and maybe I'll catch up with you in a bit. "

The old man still didn't look completely convinced, but as they were both standing there smiling their assurances at him, he muttered, "Sure, ok.

I'm just gonna head right over to the convenient store there.

Get a few things. I'll be back in a few minutes.

" With one last wary look, he ambled off to spend his money.

Heather ripped her arm from his grasp. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp. Now that her fear was fading, her natural feistiness made a swift comeback.

"Don't be coy," he told her. "You know who I am. Or at least what I am."

He was right. She did. "What do you want with me, Frank?" she asked.

He gritted his teeth at the made-up name, but only said, "We'll let the prince decide that."

"The prince?" The freaking prince was here in Washington? No wonder her mom had nearly lost it when she'd found out where she was. Of course, they could've warned her not to come here. You know, any time during the last twenty-eight years or so.

He ran his eyes up and down her body. "Look at you! All grown up now. I almost didn't recognize you. How are the folks? You know, the ones that have been hiding you from your own people."

Taking her by the arm again without waiting for her to respond, he pulled her toward the tracks. "Come on, I hear our ride coming."

Heather dug in her heels, attempting to stay where she was without making too much of a scene. She didn't want to endanger the few humans in the area. "Just hold on. Where are we going?"

"I told you. To the prince." He tugged her along easily in spite of her best efforts to keep them where they were, in plain sight of witnesses. His slight form easily disguised how strong he really was.

Heather started to panic. This was bad. This was really bad. Her parents had spent the past twenty years of their lives hiding her from their kind. What were the odds that one would find her here, in Seattle? And at this particular stop? At four o'clock in the morning?

The only reason she was in this city at all was because Gracie and her boyfriend had gotten themselves into some trouble with some thugs back home in China.

They'd gotten separated, and Grace had given her captors the slip and shown up at Heather's apartment.

She'd needed to get out of the city, and Heather had invited herself along.

Brock knocking on her door shortly after Grace had arrived and joining their party was not why she'd come with them.

It wasn't. For real. She would've kept her friend company anyway.

Having that hunk of a man to look at (and to keep her warm on the plane) had just been a bonus.

The fact that he had saved them both from a certain grisly death helped also.

Those thugs had found their way to her apartment.

And if she had stayed, it would not have been pretty.

And yeah yeah, she had promised Gracie she'd stay away from him, and she had kept her promise…

sort of…even though she hadn't understood what her friend was all in a tizzy about at the time.

Now she knew it was because Grace had found out, somehow, that he's a werewolf.

And when Heather was told that little piece of information?

Yeah, she'd agreed with Grace. She needed to stay away from him.

Hence the reason she was on the street in the wee hours of the morning trying to catch a plane home, and as far away from him as possible.

However, she'd give just about anything to see him come barreling around the corner right now.