Chapter 5
I peeled off my wet coat and kicked off the boots, leaving them by the door. The bathroom was small but clean, with a shower stall and pedestal sink. I found the chest Klaus had mentioned and pulled out flannel pajama pants and a thermal shirt that would swallow me whole.
Once changed, I padded back out to find Klaus had also changed into dry clothes—loose sweatpants and another henley that stretched across his chest. He was setting a kettle on the stove.
“Hot chocolate?” he offered. “Or something stronger? I have whiskey.”
“Whiskey,” I said immediately, then added, “please.”
He grinned and retrieved a bottle from a cabinet, pouring generous measures into two tumblers. He handed one to me, our fingers brushing in the exchange.
“To unexpected storms,” he said, raising his glass.
I clinked mine against his. “And adequate shelter.”
The whiskey burned pleasantly going down, warming me from the inside. Klaus gestured to the couch in front of the now-roaring fire, and I sat, tucking my feet under me. He joined me, leaving a respectable distance between us.
“So,” I said after a moment of silence. “I guess the audit is on hold.”
Klaus took another sip of whiskey. “Looks that way.” His eyes met mine over the rim of his glass. “Any preliminary findings you can share?”
I considered my professional ethics versus the reality of being trapped in a cabin during a blizzard. “Off the record?”
He nodded.
“Your business appears completely legitimate. The flags in your file were probably automated triggers from the seasonal nature of your income.” I swirled the amber liquid in my glass. “Unless you’re hiding something I haven’t found yet.”
Klaus’s mouth curved in that half-smile. “Nothing tax-related.”
The implication hung in the air between us. I took another swallow of whiskey, feeling its warmth spread through my limbs.
“Your family,” I said after a moment. “They’re… unusual.”
“That’s diplomatic.”
“I’m good at diplomatic,” I replied. “It’s a professional requirement.”
“And what about unprofessional observations?” he asked, leaning slightly closer. “What would those be?”
The whiskey was making me bold. “Unprofessionally? Your family acts like a wolf pack. The hierarchical structure, the physical contact, the way they defer to you.” I held his gaze. “The sniffing.”
Something flashed in his amber eyes—surprise, maybe, or concern. “Observant.”
“I’m paid to be.” I leaned forward, curiosity overcoming caution. “Martha mentioned howling during full moons.”
Klaus went very still. “Did she?”
“Small towns and their stories,” I said with a forced casualness. “Funny the kinds of rumors that develop.”
“Funny,” he agreed, but the intensity of his gaze belied the lightness of his tone.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the howl of the wind outside. Klaus refilled our glasses without asking, and I accepted the second drink gratefully.
“So,” I said finally, “what do people do during blizzards around here? Besides drink whiskey with stranded auditors.”
The tension broke as Klaus smiled. “Board games. Stories. Music.” He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, not quite touching me. “Or we could continue this conversation about my family’s peculiarities.”
“Would you actually answer my questions?” I asked.
“Depends on the questions.” His fingers played with a strand of my hair that had fallen over the couch. “And what you’re willing to believe.”
My heart thumped harder. “Try me.”
Klaus studied me for a long moment, then set down his glass. “What’s your theory, Jordan? About my family?”
The whiskey had loosened my tongue. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were werewolves.”
I expected him to laugh. He didn’t.
“And if we were?” he asked quietly.
A nervous laugh escaped me. “That would be…” I trailed off, realizing he was completely serious. “Wait. Are you saying—”
“I’m saying,” Klaus interrupted, voice low, “that sometimes the obvious answer is the right one.”
The room suddenly felt too warm, the air too thick. “That’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it?” He moved closer, close enough that I could feel his body heat. “Haven’t you noticed how warm I am, even in the snow? How I can smell your emotions? How my family moves together?”
My rational brain scrambled for explanations. “Genetic condition. Heightened senses. Close family dynamics.”
Klaus’s laugh was low and rich. “All true. But incomplete.”
“Prove it,” I challenged, the whiskey making me reckless.
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of amber remained. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I wasn’t sure of anything except the magnetic pull between us, intensified by the isolation of the storm, the whiskey, and the firelight dancing across his features.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Klaus set his glass down and took mine, placing it beside his on the coffee table. Then he turned back to me, and something in his posture had changed—become more fluid, more predatory.
“I won’t shift completely,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Not yet. But I can show you enough.”
Before I could respond, he closed his eyes in concentration.
When he opened them again, they had changed—vertical pupils surrounded by brilliant gold, no longer human.
His canines had lengthened visibly behind parted lips, and when he raised his hands, the nails had thickened into something like claws.
I should have been terrified. Instead, I was fascinated. And aroused.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed.
“Not quite,” he said, with a smile that showed too many teeth.
I reached out slowly, hesitantly, and touched his face. His beard was still soft under my fingers, but his skin was even warmer than before. “You’re really…”
“A werewolf,” he confirmed. “My whole family. Born, not bitten—that’s mostly a myth.”
“Mostly?”
“There are many myths,” he said, leaning into my touch. “Some true, some false. The full moon affects us, but doesn’t control us. Silver is an irritant, not deadly. We don’t lose our minds when we shift.”
My fingers traced the edge of his jaw, marveling. “And what about… territory? Mates?” The last word came out half-whispered.
Klaus went very still under my hand. “What do you know about mates?”
“Just what I’ve read in books,” I admitted. “Fiction.”
“Some fiction has truth in it,” he said carefully. His changed eyes tracked my every movement. “We do recognize certain people as… compatible. Potential mates.”
My pulse jumped. “And that’s why your family was so interested in me. Because I’m…”
“Because you smell like mine,” he finished, voice dropping to a growl.
The confession hung in the air between us. The fire popped loudly, making me jump. Klaus caught my hand in his, his thumb stroking my palm.
“You’re not running,” he observed.
“Where would I go?” I gestured toward the window, where snow was falling so heavily it obscured the view entirely. “Besides, I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” he said, but he was smiling again, those too-sharp teeth gleaming. “I’ve wanted to claim you since you stepped out of that ridiculous car in your impractical shoes.”
“Claim me?” I repeated, heat rushing through me.
“Mmm.” He brought my hand to his face, turning it to expose my wrist. “Make you mine.”
His tongue flicked out to taste my pulse point, and I gasped at the contact. His eyes—those inhuman, beautiful eyes—locked with mine as he placed a gentle bite against my skin, not breaking it but definitely making his point.
“Klaus,” I whispered, no longer caring about professional boundaries or rational explanations.
That was all it took. One breathy utterance of his name, and something snapped between us.
His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath, hot and demanding. I melted into the kiss, opening for him immediately, tasting whiskey and something wild on his tongue. His hands framed my face, gentle despite their altered state, careful not to scratch me with his transformed nails.
I moaned into his mouth, and the sound seemed to break his restraint. He growled—a real, chest-rumbling growl—and suddenly I was being lifted and repositioned onto his lap, my legs straddling his powerful thighs.
“Wanted this,” he murmured against my lips. “Wanted you. Your scent has been driving me crazy.”
His hands slid under the borrowed thermal shirt, hot against my skin, spanning my lower back with ease. I rocked against him instinctively, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal through the thin sweatpants.
“Jesus,” I gasped as his mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “This is crazy.”
“Mm,” he agreed, not stopping his exploration. “Insane.” His hands moved higher under my shirt, thumbs brushing my nipples. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
The sincerity in his voice made me pull back enough to look at him. Despite the inhuman eyes and teeth, his expression was vulnerable, questioning.
“Don’t stop,” I said, grinding down against him for emphasis. “Definitely don’t stop.”
Relief and desire flooded his expression. In one smooth motion, he lifted me again and stood, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist, arms around his neck, as he walked us toward the bed in the corner of the cabin.
He laid me down gently, then stood to pull his henley off in one fluid movement.
I’d seen him shirtless before, but this—this was different.
The firelight played across the planes of his chest and abdomen, highlighting every ridge of muscle.
A dark trail of hair led from his navel down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, which did nothing to hide his impressive erection.
“You’re staring,” he said, voice rough with desire.
“You’re worth staring at,” I replied honestly.
He smiled, predatory and pleased, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. “Fair is fair. I want to see you too.”
I sat up and reached for the hem of my borrowed shirt, suddenly self-conscious. I wasn’t out of shape, but I was lean bordering on skinny, especially compared to his powerful build.