Page 7 of Master Wolf

“It has been five years since I last saw Lindsay.”

Drew stared at her, astonished. Being apart from Marguerite for so long would be intolerable for Lindsay. Drew couldn’t imagine why he’d do such a thing.

“Where is he now?” Drew asked.

“Edinburgh,” Marguerite said. “He has been there for two years now.”

Drew glanced at her sharply. “He’s in Scotland? But what about Duncan?”

Duncan MacCormaic, Lindsay’s maker, had held him in wretched captivity for decades after transforming him. Until Marguerite had discovered his plight and rescued him. After escaping Duncan, Lindsay had gone to considerable lengths to stay out of his maker’s orbit, always moving on, never staying in one place too long lest Duncan find him and compel him back into slavery.

But now Lindsay had returned to Scotland, where Duncan had his main home? Staying in Edinburgh for two whole years? Was hemad?

“Lindsay is determined not to leave,” Marguerite said wearily.

“That is very unwise,” Drew replied, frowning.

“It is. Very. But he refuses. Happily, Duncan is not in Scotland just now, but it is only a matter of time till he returns.”

“Are you on your way to Edinburgh now?” Drew asked.

“I am,” she admitted. “And Drew—I need you to come with me.”

Drew met her steady gaze. At length he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I sympathise,” Marguerite replied, “But I am afraid I must insist—I need your help and I do not know who else to turn to.”

“Lindsay doesn’t listen to me any more than he listens—”

“I do not seek your help with Lindsay,” Marguerite interrupted flatly.

Those words sent the oddest stab deep into Drew’s belly.

“Then what?”

Marguerite opened her reticule and pulled out a letter. “Read this,” she said, offering it to him.

He reached out and took the letter, noting the already cracked sealing wax. He recognised Lindsay’s handwriting on the paper, that slightly antique script of his. It gave Drew the strangest feeling in his stomach, just seeing words that Lindsay’s hand had formed. Clutching the letter, he turned away, giving Marguerite his back, feeling suddenly exposed.

He turned the paper over in hands, examining it before slowly opening it out. A subtle but unmistakable scent drifted up to meet him, bringing an unwanted lump to his throat.

Lindsay’s scent.

He remembered the first time he’d recognised that scent, three decades before. He’d only just woken up in Lindsay’s bed, three days after having his throat torn out, and been given the unwelcome news that he was now a werewolf—part man, part beast and so long lived as to be near enough immortal.

And then Lindsay had burst in, wild-eyed and pleading. Lindsay, the man who had transformed Drew into this monster. Lindsay, who had, prior to that, taken Drew to bed and changed forever Drew’s understanding of who he was as a man.

Drew had shared Lindsay’s bed several times before Lindsay had transformed him. He’d kissed Lindsay’s mouth and touched every part of his elegant body, even spent inside him. But it was only in that moment, after he became a wolf, when Lindsay burst into his sickroom, that he’d finally learned the subtle intricacies of Lindsay’s unique scent. It made Drew think of rain and the sweet smell from the earth that followed a heavy downpour. It was an earth-and-sky scent that he wanted to fill his lungs up with, breathing it in and out for ever. A scent he’d barely even noticed till he became a wolf and discovered there was a vast world of sensory experience he hadn’t even known existed. Not until Lindsay Somerville burst into his bedchamber and drenched him in sensation.

Drew lifted the paper to his nose and breathed in Lindsay’s scent, so faint, so distant… yetthere. Still there, despite the miles and months since Lindsay had touched it. Drew closed his eyes and saw Lindsay’s face in his mind’s eye. It was a face of astonishing masculine beauty. Eyes so dark they were nearly black, gleaming with gentle mockery. A mouth that promised passion and humour both.

Drew’s heart twisted and he closed his eyes, cursing. The longing he felt for Lindsay was always there. He could keep it under control by staying as far away from Lindsay as possible, but he could never seem to sever the bone-deep yearning entirely.

Which did nothing to change the fact that Lindsay Somerville was not—and would never be—for Drew. There was too much pain and betrayal between them. How could Drew ever forgive the man who had turned him into a monster and imposed this endless longing upon him?

“Read it.”

Marguerite’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he flushed, realising how badly he’d betrayed himself, scenting the letter and openly dreaming. Hurriedly he unfolded the page and forced himself to focus on the words.