Tempting the Black Wolf (Lone Wolf Legacy #3)

Chapter One

Romania, six months ago…

A wolf was hunting her. Not just any wolf, but Dagen Kern, one of the lone wolves, an immortal warrior and protector of his race.

A shiver raced down her spine. Onyx resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for the hundredth time as she slipped through the shadows of the ancient castle. Once a family stronghold, it was now a museum, closed at this time of night. Hurry! Hurry! Time was running out. Instinct had kept her alive this long; there was no reason to doubt it now.

They’d been hunting the same journal for months. It seemed he’d caught a whisper about the ancient alchemist’s writings at virtually the same time she had. The man who had given her the information had likely been the one to pass it on to the wolf. She didn’t begrudge the human for wanting to get paid double, although it was making her task far more difficult than it needed to be.

I have to get there first.

Pulling up a map of the castle in her mind, she ducked into one of the many hidden passageways and ran, chest heaving and blood pumping. If Dagen took the journal, or worse, destroyed it, she’d never learn the secrets it held.

It could contain the missing piece of the puzzle.

The soles of her boots skidded slightly as she hit a dead end. “Shit!” she whispered before pressing her lips together. The details she’d been given were out of date. At some point, the passageway had been blocked off. Doubling back, she exited at the first hidden door. It took a moment to get her bearings, but she was closer to her destination.

The alarms and security cameras in the castle were no deterrent. As a mage, it was minor magic for her to disrupt them, but she hadn’t had to make the effort. They’d been down when she arrived. He’d beaten her here. She prayed he didn’t have the exact location of the journal.

Going as fast as she dared, she whipped down the hallway, staying near the walls when possible, doing her best to avoid the glow from the dim security lights. No need to make herself a bigger target than necessary.

The black wolf might kill her on sight or he might not. There was no way to determine his course of action, and she didn’t want to risk it. A battle between them would not be a quiet affair and would attract attention, something she desperately wanted to avoid.

Slamming her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and lowered her head, pulling in every vestige of her magic until there was a dead space around her.

“You may as well come out.” The deep masculine voice penetrated the very cells of her body, demanding that she obey.

Digging her nails into her palms, Onyx fought the compulsion. She wasn’t ready to meet him face-to-face. Already her blood was humming and she was beginning to sweat.

“You’re stealthier than most, I’ll give you that, but I’m better.” No conceit, simply a deep understanding of who and what he was.

You can do this. There really wasn’t any other choice. If she tried to run, he’d be on her in a heartbeat like the predator he was. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room. The library with its floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with priceless and rare tomes took a back seat to the man standing in front of the stone fireplace.

At almost seven feet tall, Dagen Kern was an intimidating sight. His jet-black eyes tracked her from head to toe, missing nothing. She fought the urge to shuffle her feet and instead met his assessing gaze with one of her own, conveying a sense of detachment that was a lie. His black hair fell to his shoulders in a silky curtain that tempted a woman to run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it appeared.

A long-sleeved black shirt was snug against muscular arms and broad shoulders. Black pants and boots completed his ensemble. They were dressed almost identically. She’d added a cape for extra protection against the chilly winter air and had shoved her distinctive red and black hair under a knitted cap.

“So you’re the tool destined to bring me to my knees.” His cynical smile chilled her blood. He’d already judged her and found her wanting. It stung deeper than she’d anticipated, stabbing vulnerable and tender spots inside her. She swallowed back the sense of inadequacy, of never being good enough. This wasn’t the time to fall back into old habits. She’d worked too damn hard for her independence. She was nobody’s victim but a strong mage in her own right.

Tilting her chin up, she gave a curt nod. “You know I am.” Denial wouldn’t serve her well. If she was to succeed, she needed to gain his trust. It didn’t surprise her he was aware of his enemies’ plans. The man dealt in information for a living, after all, and she’d made sure certain facts filtered his way, giving him a starting point for his investigations. No way would he believe anything she told him without corroboration.

He tilted his head to one side. “So where’s the instant attraction, the grand connection we’re supposed to feel toward each other? That’s part of Solange Dupree’s big plan, isn’t it? Weaken us to make it easier for her to capture one of the lone wolves, to steal our immortality for her and her werewolf lover.” He prowled forward until he was standing right in front of her. Lifting his hand, he pressed it against her cheek. “Looks like she failed, at least in this attempt.”

A flush of shame washed over her when her body responded to his touch. Beneath her clothes, her nipples sprang to attention and her panties grew damp.

He leaned down until their lips were practically touching. Frozen in place, her pulse fluttering madly, she forced herself not to reach up and close the tiny gap. Moving lower, he nuzzled her neck, sending goose bumps racing down her arm. Sensual laughter made her entire lower body clench. “Seems I was wrong. It did work on one of us.”

The bastard could smell her arousal. Mortified, she started to take a step back, but he caught her by the shoulders and held her in place. Rather than struggle—there was no way she could match his physical strength—she forced a lighthearted chuckle. “What do you care? You’re not the least bit attracted to me, right?”

“Right.” He released her but not before she observed his pupils were dilated. If they hadn’t been so close, she wouldn’t have noticed. He was lying. He had to be. No way did she want to be the only one caught in this web of attraction not of their making.

Deciding to test her theory, Onyx ran her tongue over her bottom lip. His nostrils flared and his lips thinned. She glanced down at the front of his black pants satisfied by the heavy bulge there. “Liar,” she whispered.

His gaze narrowed, but he shrugged off the accusation. “I’m a wolf. I have a high sex drive and you’re an attractive woman.” The implication being any woman would do.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” Why was she baiting him when sweet-talking would serve her better? “Look, we both know why we’re here.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slim leather-bound volume. It was nondescript. No gilt edges or embossing adorned it. It was a working journal, the type an alchemist would use to make notes. A low hum of power clung to it. When she reached out to touch it, he raised it over his head. “Finders keepers.”

She dropped her hand down by her side. “Don’t be childish. I need that book. It may hold the key to free us both.”

“You expect me to trust you?” He shook his head. “You’re a mage, like Solange. For all I know, you’re her apprentice. Maybe even begged to be a part of her scheme in the hopes of gaining immortality.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. But if he knew her secret, he’d put her down here and now. However, there was one thing they had in common. “I want Solange dead as badly as you do.” Like the lone wolves, she’d never be free as long as the woman drew breath. She was tired of living in fear.

Lifting his free hand, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Sparks of arousal shot straight to her core. She barely swallowed a moan of pleasure that threatened to escape. “Maybe you do, but I can’t take the chance.” His mouth replaced his thumb, grazing over her lips. This time, there was no holding back the whimper as she dived into the kiss.

It was a stupid thing to do, and certainly not the place, but she couldn’t help herself. An urgent need for him burned in her blood, one she couldn’t deny. And God knows she’d tried. She’d fought it for years, determined to find another way out of Solange’s schemes, but destiny would not be denied.

She’d kept a low profile for a long time, hiding, honing her skills, understanding she needed to be confident in her strength as a woman and a mage before facing him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t stand a chance of holding her own with or against him. The past two years, their paths had crossed several times, some by design, others by accident or fate. This was the first time she’d let down her guard enough to be in his presence. Until tonight, all their contact had been over the phone or from a distance.

She’d known this would happen if they ever got close. They were like a match and dry tinder. One spark would start a wildfire.

Big hands cupped her ass and pulled her against him. He must have tucked the book back in his pocket. I could steal—

All thoughts about the book and everything else disappeared when his tongue thrust into her mouth, claiming it. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she rubbed her aching breasts against his rock-hard chest. His erection pressed against her stomach, making her inner muscles clench. Heat seeped into every crevice of her body, driving out the pervading chill that never seemed to leave her, no matter the ambient temperature. Longing for more of the delicious warmth, she snuggled closer.

He jerked away, leaving her swaying, her knees weak, her legs none too steady. The cold rushed back in, worse now that she’d experienced its absence. He swallowed heavily, his throat rippling. She grabbed ahold of a nearby table and resisted the urge to touch her lips. He’d marked her for life. The explosion of passion made all her other sexual encounters fade into oblivion and all they’d done was kiss.

Dagen Kern was dangerous to her health and well-being. Pride came to her rescue, and she squared her shoulders. “I’ll share everything I learn from the journal. Who else are you going to trust to decipher it? I guarantee it will be written in code.” No alchemist, or mage for that matter, would allow their research to be so easily stolen by another.

“I think you mean that.”

Her chest warmed, and she gave him a tremulous smile. “I do.”

“I wish I could trust you, but I can’t. It’s nothing personal.” He disappeared in the blink of an eye, moving faster than she could track. For a big man, he moved like smoke, silent and deadly like the wolf he was.

It was pointless to chase him. She’d never catch him and wasn’t prepared to use magic to try to contain him. She lowered herself to the nearest chair and touched her fingers to her mouth. She could taste him, feel the touch of his lips. “I mean nothing to him.” What else was new?

She’d never meant anything to anyone but her brother, who had been no blood relation at all. The only thing they’d had in common was they’d both been prisoners as children and had banded together to try to survive. It had been a powerful bond, one that had never wavered. But he was dead, sacrificing himself to save her. She pressed her hand against her stomach, the grief as sharp as it had been thirteen years ago. Not a day went by when she didn’t mourn his loss. It was up to her to survive, to bring his murderer to justice. Solange had entangled all of them in her schemes, uncaring how many she hurt in the process.

Right now, there were three lone wolves with targets on their backs. Besides her, there were two human women who had no idea they were pawns in a dangerous game.

It was time to get out. She wouldn’t put it past Dagen to reconnect the security. Cursing herself for her momentary weakness, she surged to her feet. As she passed a bookshelf, a low hum of energy sang in the air, calling to her. It stopped her in her tracks.

“There’s something else here,” she muttered, turning in a slow circle to pinpoint the exact location. The odds of there being two books imbued with the same magical signature were astronomically low, but there was no denying her senses.

“There.” She hurried to a far corner of the room filled with histories of wars fought centuries ago. Not questioning her intuition, she removed several heavy volumes and set them aside.

A slow smile covered her face. “Oh, you’re a clever one.” The alchemist had not only written the notes in code, a fake journal had been created to throw others off the scent of the real one. “How do I know that?” She was a mage, able to use the elements to cast spells, to do things normal people could only dream about, but this went beyond that. Her certainty was absolute.

Reaching deep into the shelf, she patted the wood behind several other books, pausing when her fingers grazed soft leather. Carefully, she caught the small notebook between two fingers and pulled. It was identical to the one Dagen had taken. She rubbed her fingers over the cover, almost tasting the buzz of power.

“Blood.” That’s what she was sensing. The alchemist’s blood was somehow infused in the very fabric of the thing, maybe in the ink itself. Onyx not only carried a drop of Dagen’s blood, compliments of Solange’s experiments, she carried Solange’s, too. And whoever this alchemist had been, they were an ancestor of Solange. The blood in the book called to that running through her veins.

Swallowing her yell of triumph, she tucked the journal carefully into an internal pocket of her cape and replaced the history journals she’d removed. Satisfied all was back in place, she escaped into the night.

…

Dagen breathed a sigh of relief when Onyx exited the castle. Fool that he was he’d been worried about her, unable to leave until he was sure she wouldn’t be caught.

Maybe I should have given her the journal.

Giving a low growl, he followed his quarry. Noiselessly, he tracked her through the woods until she climbed into a car stashed a half mile down the road. His fingernails morphed into giant claws. He dug them into the trunk of a tree to keep from racing after her. Inside him, his wolf howled.

“Fuck.” He yanked his claws free, gouging deep in the bark. Turning in the opposite direction, he stalked away. Decisiveness was a part of his DNA. He always trusted his instincts…except when it came to Onyx. “She’s a mage like Solange.” The reminder shouldn’t be necessary.

Lungs heaving, he sucked air into them, threw back his head, and howled. The lonely sound echoed across the countryside. The cows in the field began to moo nervously and shuffle closer together for protection. Doors and windows of several nearby homes slammed shut. Anyone not inside would hunker down and hide. The people of this country believed in such things as werewolves. Most of the outside world considered them superstitious and uneducated, not realizing they were the ones who understood the truth.

Paranormal creatures walked among them.

Giving in to the need clawing at him, he began to run. He made it a mile before giving a lurid curse and circling back in her direction. Damn her. The sweet taste of her lingered on his lips. The scent of her, a delectable combination of woman and lavender, seemed to cling to his skin, though he’d barely touched her.

Legs pumping, he sprinted around trees and jumped over fences, skidding to a stop when her rental car came into view. It was pulled off on the side of the road. It was also empty. She’d heard his howl and abandoned it. Smart lady that she was, she’d assumed he might have watched her leave and knew what she was driving. She’d either stolen another or hitched a ride with a stranger.

He tamped down the worry that rose up inside him. She was a mage. No human male was a match for her. She was safe…for the time being.

Pressing his hands against the hood of the vehicle, he shook himself. It was better this way. Even if she was innocent, he couldn’t trust her. Whatever Solange had done to Onyx had changed her. A single drop of his blood had given her black eyes, exactly like his own. And while her hair had been tucked under a black knitted cap, beneath it was long, thick hair of rich red streaked with black. She was tall for a woman, just shy of six feet. Her skin was like porcelain, her cheekbones high, and her lips full and lush. Dressed all in black, she’d resembled a sexy cat burglar. He’d wanted to pet her, make her purr.

He could track her, but what would be the point? While they seemingly wanted the same thing—freedom from Solange and her evil plans—she could be playing a deep, complicated game. Mouth compressed into a hard line, he shoved upright and walked away. This time, he didn’t look back.

When the first rumors about an unknown enemy reached his ears, he’d taken it with a grain of salt. The lone wolves had historically always been targets of disgruntled alphas that feared them and young wolves wanting to make a name. They all thought being a lone wolf, being immortal, was something to covet.

They were fools. He’d trade his immortality in a heartbeat for a chance to live in a pack, have a mate, friends, and a place he belonged. In his position, trust was a commodity he couldn’t afford, not even with the other two lone wolves. And speaking of Devlin Moore and Kade Alvarez—the white and gray wolves—he had to decide how much to tell them. He wouldn’t call them directly or approach them in person. He never had. What was the point? If one of them went rogue down the road, he’d have to kill them.

The lone wolf existed for the sole purpose of protecting the werewolf race. He was judge, jury, and executioner, assuring their existence remained secret from humans. The creature that lived inside him was a hard taskmaster. There was no telling when the urge to hunt would rise within him. The ultimate hunter, once he locked onto his prey, there was no stopping. The compulsion to see the job done was as much a part of the curse as the tattoo emblazoned on his chest.

Only one was supposed to exist at any given time, not three. He had no proof but had suspicions about that, as he had his suspicions about Onyx.

He’d caught his first glimpse of her a couple years ago in a crowded market in Mumbai, India. He’d been hunting a rogue wolf, focused on the task at hand, when he’d come to a dead stop and gone on high alert. It hadn’t been danger he’d sensed, but something that called to his soul. She’d stood beside a vendor’s stall, dressed in a plain white tunic and matching pants. Even among the colorful sights and sounds of the market, she’d stood out, a beacon calling to him. When their eyes met, she’d nodded and slipped through the throngs of people. He’d gone after her, but like tonight, she’d vanished, as if into thin air.

He rather thought she enjoyed being mysterious. Even her name was unusual. As hard as he’d searched, he’d never come up with a last name. Every one of his contacts—and they were vast—knew her solely as Onyx.

He also believed she was the source of the many rumors that had reached him, along with what she’d shared over the phone. Rumors were his stock in trade, his business. He was a broker of sorts, supplying everything from transportation, medical assistance, and armed mercenaries to rich humans and other paranormals. His identity was a heavily guarded secret. To his clients, he was nothing more than a voice on the other end of the phone. It allowed him to manage his empire from anywhere in the world, wherever his wolf took him. Efficiency and discretion were his stock in trade. He’d become very rich doing it. He thrived on juggling a hundred tasks at once, his mind needing the stimulation. It kept the loneliness at bay.

It also allowed him to have minimal contact with the other lone wolves without them being the wiser. He’d made sure his contact number had reached them through convoluted channels to keep them from becoming suspicious. On several occasions, he’d been able to use his network to assist them. The connection—even if it was nothing more than a voice on the phone—made him feel not quite so alone in the world.

Whatever Onyx’s motives, the information she’d sent his way had proved true. Using his network of operatives and virtually unlimited resources, he’d meticulously verified and dug deeper, uncovering Solange’s plot and the blood link between him and Onyx. He’d see her again, if for no other reason than he had the notebook she wanted.

She gave up too easily.

Slowing, he swore under his breath. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the small leather volume. While he was no mage, his wolf sensed the magic in it. Shrugging, he stuck it back into his pocket. It’d be a challenge to decipher. He’d contact her when he’d broken the code.

Anticipation thrumming through him, he picked up the pace, ignoring a dog that whined as he passed. His plane left at dawn. He didn’t plan on missing it.