“Declan?”
The wolf’s haunches bunched, its muzzle creased.Regan sucked in a short breath, lifting her fists.Adrenaline surged through her.And then she gasped in relief as a slight tremble shook the animal’s body and Declan stood before her.Naked once more, covered in cuts and bruises, the wound on his side weeping fresh blood again.
Silver eyes shimmered to grey and his lips curled into a dark grin.“I’m going to need to find some new clothes.”
CHAPTERFIVE
The heavy oak doors swung open, revealing an entry foyer more magnificent and lavish than any Regan had seen.Declan’s grey eyes flashed silver, an unreadable expression flicking across his face before he waved his arm wide.“Your castle awaits, my fair abductee.”
Regan took a step in to the foyer, the gleaming white marble floor stretching before her, the cool, dim silence beyond beckoning.She hesitated, ready for the Klaxon squeal of a security system.
“I’ve disengaged it.”
She gave Declan a quick look, doing her best to keep her eyes on his.It was difficult, knowing, as she did, how completely naked he was.“How do you know how to break into a house?”
He raised a straight, black eyebrow.“I’m not always a wolf, Regan.My ‘day’ job required I knew how to get in—and out—of locked premises.”
“What is your day job, exactly?”
“Journalist.”
“And journalists break into mansions often, do they?”
He gave her one of those wolfish grins she was already getting to know well.“I’m from Ireland, love.Remember?I didn’t write articles on what to wear to Bondi Beach.”
A frown pulled at Regan’s forehead.“Didn’t?What do you mean, ‘didn’t’?”
Declan ignored the question.“I’ve hidden our tracks.McCoy won’t be able to find us here.”He moved past her, striding deeper into the silent mansion.
A shiver raced up Regan’s spine and she closed her eyes.Immediately an image of Declan’s tight, naked ass filled her head and her stomach fluttered, a delicious, little dance worming its way down to the damp junction of her thighs.“I’m losing my mind,” she mumbled.
Declan chuckled.“No you’re not.”
She opened her eyes, ready to give him a piece of her mind.
But the foyer stood empty before her.
Pulling in a slow, steadying breath, Regan moved into the house.So, abduction, car theft and now breaking and entering.Not the day you had planned, is it?
She looked around herself.She should find a phone.Let Peter know she was okay.
Are you okay?Areyou?
A tremble began in her stomach, a soft, rapid spasm like a million butterflies beating their wings in blind panic.God.She’d just witnessed two—damn it—twowerewolvesfighting.How did one’s brain deal with that?Especially when she now stood in someone else’s home with one of them.She frowned, rubbing her palms up and down her suddenly cold arms.And why wasn’t she trying to get away?
Well?
She didn’t have an answer, only the weird trembling sensation in her gut well on its way to consuming her whole body.Hugging herself, she walked across the expansive foyer, looking for somewhere to sit.Her legs felt wobbly.Twin, marble columns caught her eye and, shaking, she walked toward them, staring in stunned amazement at what lay beyond them, a room so large it could only be described as an exorbitant ballroom.
“Bit over the top, isn’t it?”
She jumped, spinning about to glare at Declan who, at some stage, had silently joined her between the columns.“Don’tdothat.”
He dropped her a wink, walking backward into the extravagant room, bare feet silent on the white marble floor.“Care to dance?”
Regan’s heart leapt up into her throat and she swallowed.It seemed he’d found himself something to wear.
Black, silk boxers hung low on his hips, leaving his lean but finely muscled, upper body bare, drawing her eyes to its untamed perfection.She pulled in a steadying breath, the tremble in her stomach gaining in strength.Unable not to, she gazed at him, at his smooth, defined shoulders, chiseled chest, sculpted stomach…“Shit, Declan.Your wound.”She ran to him, heart leaping into her throat.She touched the flesh around the bleeding gash in his side, feeling sick.The skin was ragged, torn open again by his battle with McCoy, an angry laceration burning with obvious infection.Fine, grey hairs matted in blood circled the wound, as if the injury had trapped the animal part of Declan, preventing his complete transformation.“I need to clean this, sterilize it before it?—”
