Page 4 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

H eather looked up through her lashes at the prince of her people.

He wasn't what she had expected at all from her parent’s stories.

As a matter of fact, he appeared almost…

kind. But if she paid attention, she could sense the undercurrent of supremacy he carried within him simmering just beneath the surface, and she saw no mercy in his dark eyes.

Her chest felt tight as she tried to breathe, and she wondered for the upteenth time what the hell had possessed her to leave the safety of the apartments she’d been staying in to go wandering off on her own like an idiot.

"Where are your mother and father?" the prince asked her.

Yeah, like there was any chance in hell she was going to tell him that. She licked her dry lips as she thought about how best to answer his question without angering him.

Deciding that honesty would probably be the best policy in this situation, she lifted her chin and looked him square in the eyes.

"I respectfully decline to answer that question, sir.

Prince. Sir Prince." She cleared her throat.

"I love my parents dearly, and there is nothing you can do or say that will make me give them up to you. "

One side of his mouth couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to smile or not. Either he was mildly amused, or he was so appalled at her lack of regard for his royal godness that he had acquired an uncontrollable tick.

"Strangely enough, I don't believe you would,” he murmured after a long moment, saying more loudly, “And I do appreciate your honesty.

" He linked his hands together and did smile then.

His teeth were straight and white and perfect.

Too perfect. "I'm only inquiring as to how they are.

I mean them no harm." He looked at her expectantly.

All the little hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She took a fortifying gulp of air and steeled herself. "Still ain't happening," she told him firmly. Closing her eyes tight, she braced herself for the repercussions that were sure to follow such a blatant show of defiance.

When long seconds passed and all of her limbs were still attached, she cracked open one eye and peeked out at him.

He arched an eyebrow in question. Coldly amused this time.

"Aren't you going to smite me or something?" she asked.

That bone-chilling smile widened until it almost reached his eyes. "Smite you?" He chuckled. "No, Heather. I'm not going to smite you. I need you."

It was her turn to arch a delicate brow. "Need me? Need me for what?"

"I need you to help our people."

She frowned. "I’m not sure I’m the best person to come to about something like that. I’ve been gone for a long time. What could I possibly do to help any of you?”

The prince continued to smile as he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace, glancing at her every now and then out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, I did have some grand plans involving a lovely wedding to a very handsome, if albeit a bit violent, lad to help unite our tribes, however, another option has just made itself known to me.

A much more desirable option than making nice with those miscreants. "

The smile abruptly fell from his face and he turned his head toward the window.

"You may come in now, wolf," he called out in a singsong voice.

Heather's head snapped around. She couldn't see anything at first with the light from the kitchen reflecting on the glass. Not until he stood up to his full height and Brock's impressive form filled the entire frame.

His blue eyes found hers, and his were narrowed with concern. Or was that suspicion? He let himself in through the open back door and strode confidently into the room to stand next to her with his shoulders back and his hands at his sides.

Her memory hadn't done justice as to just how good-looking and charismatic he was.

With his long hair and close-cut beard, he looked like a sexy lumberjack, or a biker (more like Sons of Anarchy than Hell's Angels).

She'd also forgotten how large he was. Or maybe he just seemed taller standing in this room with all of these average height males.

He even stood a good five inches taller than the prince, and was at least twice his girth.

As she watched, the muscles in his arms and chest twitched under his tee shirt, like he was having a hard time standing still.

"Welcome to our little get together," the prince said. "What is your name, canine?"

Brock's narrowed eyes shifted from her to the prince at the demeaning classification. He seemed to ignore the other three men in the room. "Brock."

"Brock…of course. A fine name for a strong male." The prince strolled in a circle around him, his eyes roaming over every inch of Brock’s muscular body. Eventually, he came to a stop directly in front of him, but stayed just out of arms reach. "Why are you here? What is this female to you?"

Heather felt her face flame as Brock blinked in surprise. She'd only known him for a few days. She wasn't anything to him.

"I'm sorry?" Brock asked, glancing her way.

The prince waited until he had Brock's full attention. Catching his eyes and holding them with his own, he said in a low voice, "I think you heard me. Now kindly answer the question."

As if he couldn't help himself, Brock's eyes wandered back to her and travelled hungrily from the top of her head to the tips of her sneakers and back. "I want to fuck her," he announced to the room. "More than any other woman I've ever met."

Heather swallowed loudly, taken aback by his bluntness even as an answering ache blossomed low in her belly. Her blood began to pound as her body responded to the hunger in his eyes. Her breasts swelled under his gaze, the nipples straining toward him, and a surge of moisture wet her panties.

His eyes on her breasts, he growled deep in his throat.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning in response.

Then he blinked, and shook his head slightly, looking chagrined as he apologized to her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that.

" His eyes swept over her of their own accord one last time, and his nostrils flared before he tore his gaze away and turned his attention back to the prince.

The prince nodded, his expression thoughtful as he muttered, "You said it because it is the honest truth, and the only kind of answer I allowed you to give. Now, the question is, how badly do you want her?"

"Why do you need to know?" Brock asked. “What is this about?”

The prince moved closer and the wolf lifted his face as he neared, scenting the air. His heavy brows came together. "Who are you?" he asked. " What are you?"

The room fell silent as the prince searched Brock's features, and then turned to pace the floor without answering him, one hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Frank spoke up from his post behind Heather. "Your majesty, I don't think this is a good idea. We don't need him, or any of his kind. Let's dispose of him now and be on our way."

One of the others, a handsome, balding man in a suit, spoke up. "I disagree. We could use all of the help we can get. If this male can get other shifters on our side, we may actually have a chance."

The prince nodded as they spoke, appearing to consider what they were saying.

He continued to pace for another few minutes while they all waited in silence.

Then he came to an abrupt halt and faced the group.

His eyes were lit from within and gleaming like a madman as he studied them, colors swirling off and on in the dark irises like those hypnotic spirals that never ended.

This couldn't be good.

With a maniacal smile he said, "We will let fate decide." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gold coin. "Call it, wolf."

Brock looked around the room. "What the fook is going on?!" he bellowed with rising anxiety, a slight Scottish brogue suddenly appearing in his dialect.

Heather cringed. It appeared his patience was at an end. She wanted to reassure him, but it was kind of hard when she had no idea what was happening herself.

"It's quite simple," the prince told him. "Heads, you win. Tails, you die. Now, CALL IT." He threw the coin in the air.

"Heads!" Brock called, looking as if all of the world had gone mad. Which it kind of had.

Heather held her breath as the prince caught the coin and flipped it over onto the back of his opposite hand.

He seemed a tiny bit surprised as he said, "Today is your lucky day, wolf. You won."

A deep rumble filled the room before he’d even finished speaking. Brock's chest was heaving, his muscles were twitching, and his chin was lowered as he caught the prince in his hunter's stare. "You will tell me who you are, and whit th' fook is going on. Right now. 'Afore I lose my shit."

Ignoring him completely, the prince smiled fondly at Heather. "Are you ready, my dear?"

She turned frantic eyes to him, "Ready for what?"

The prince raised his hands in front of him, palms facing each other. "And…go!" He clapped his hands together twice in quick succession.

The room began to spin around her and the floor shifted under her feet. Throwing her arms out to the sides, she frantically reached out toward the only one in the room that seemed somewhat sane. "Brock!"

"Heather!" he roared.

His long hair whipped around his face as he dove toward her. But just as he was about to grab her hand, she felt herself get grabbed from behind and she was yanked off the floor and sucked backwards.

She screamed as she was surrounded by darkness.