Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

Rick looked away. Looked back. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.”

“Forgiven, forgotten. But if you’re going to check on him, I want to come in with you.”

“Remind me again when you went to vet school?” the man muttered with resignation.

“What can I say, night school is a wonderful thing.”

As the two entered the building, there was the clap of a screen door shutting and then a thump as something more solid was closed.

Daniel pulled himself back up on the slot window’s sill.

Through the glass, he watched as the woman and the man proceeded through that door she’d gone into before.

Dropping back down, he was just going to wait for them to come back.

And then he would see what he felt like doing to them—

Off in the distance, the howl of a wolf echoed through night, weaving through the pine trees, traveling as if on wings from the throat of the predator to Daniel’s ears.

He opened his soul to the haunting song.

It was his absolute favorite sound in the world.





THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lydia was the first person in the WSP’s building. As she opened the front door, the burnt smell was unmistakable, but not pronounced, and she quickly put in the code to the alarm. Rushing back to her office, she flipped the lights on and went around to her chair.

Down on the floor under her desk, in the tin, her computer tower was showing no signs of life even though it was plugged in and had been left on.

The sharp smell of melted plastic and metal made her rub her nose.

Sitting down on the carpet, she closed her gritty, red-rimmed eyes. She’d been so worried that a fire would break out and spread through the whole facility that after she and Rick had left, she’d come right back. Tucking her car behind the equipment garage, she’d settled in for the dawn. Her L.L.Bean sleeping bag had kept her toasty enough, but her back hadn’t appreciated her driver’s seat as a bed.

And then there had been the constant monitoring.

She’d expected at any moment for there to be a Hollywood-worthy explosion, orange and yellow flames breaking out everywhere, her wolf’s tenuous life in danger, her bursting in to save him the only reason he survived.

When the veil had finally arrived and then dawn had come, she’d pulled out from her hidey-hole and gone back home for a quick shower, an old banana, and a slice of toast that had made her realize her chicken pot pie was still in the damn car.

What a waste—

The cough came from her doorway and she snapped to attention. Tilting to the side, she looked around her desk.

And flushed like she’d spontaneously become sunburned.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Good morning.”

Daniel Joseph covered his mouth with his fist and coughed again. Then he waved his hand around. “Everything okay in here?”

“My, ah …” She slid up into her chair and pointed under her desk. “My computer held a barbecue last night and ate itself.”

Daniel came around with a fluidity that seemed at odds with his size and strength, and as he knelt down and drew out the tin, she took a moment to breathe in deep. Yup, same cologne. And while she was trying not to sniff too much, he let out another cough as he yanked the electrical cord free of the back.

“I promise you,” she said, “my office doesn’t always smell bad. I make no guarantees about our strawberry-fields-forever bathroom, however.”

“It’s okay.” He pulled out the tray. “And I’m not a computer expert, but this thing is dead.”

“It’s been on its last legs for a long time. I put it in the tin a while ago because I was afraid—”

He looked up. “Of exactly what happened.”

“—of exactly what happened.” She flushed as their eyes met. “Snap.”

He sat back on his heels, balancing his arm on the desktop. “Hey, can you explain the snap thing to me? Like, what’s with the snap.”

“Well, two people—”

“—say the same thing—”

“—say the same thing—”

“—at the same time,” he finished. “Snap.”

“Yup.”

“And that’s it.”

“Now that you mention it, it’s like your cousin Louie’s punch line. Falls flat and doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

He smiled ever so slightly. “Uncle Louie.”

“Sorry. Uncle. Not cousin.”

And justlikethat, time slowed. Then stopped altogether.

As Lydia stared into those incendiary hazel eyes of his, she had a thought in the back of her head that he was so big, their faces were on the same level even though he was down on one knee. She also knew … that if he leaned forward, and she did the same …

Their lips would meet.

Pull out of this right now, she told herself.

And yet she stayed right where she was—and so did he. Which made her wonder if he was thinking the same thing she was.

“How can I help?” he said in a husky voice.

Lydia shook her head. “I’m sorry, what—oh, with the computer. Ah, I’m good. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. It’s lawn sculpture—but I’ll get another one to use.”

As her voice drifted off, she reflected that people really didn’t meet each other’s stares very often, did they. At least not like this.