Page 1 of A Wolf's Treasure
Chapter 1
Duncan’s blood raced, burning through his veins with a shot of fear, a spark of excitement, and a twinge of longing, though he hadn’t felt any of those things in a very long time.
She was stalking him.
The lass with the dark curls. The one he’d seen that day he was with Lucian.
The wee lass was stalking a werewolf.
A wide grin split his face as he lathered his jaw and neck for a shave. It would do him no good to meet her properly for the first time with a day’s worth of whiskers. He rinsed his hands and wet his razor, then began scraping the stubble from his left cheek.
As he shaved, he thought back to the first time he’d noticed he was being trailed. After everything had been sorted out with Lucian and Keelin, Duncan had decided to give the pup a little bit of space. Lucian was maturing nicely, and thanks to his new mate, that explosive temper of his was finally cooling to a simmer.
Of course, he—Duncan—had helped with that by annoying Lucian on a regular basis for years until he no longer had such a hair trigger. Not that he would ever receive any thanks for it.
But he was digressing.
Unlike Lucian, Duncan didn’t feel the need to run wild every night. Older than the pup by many years—though a wee bit younger than Cedric, the almighty alpha—he was quite comfortable in his skin. And around humans.
What he did love to do, was dance. Country dancing, to be precise. Something his pack mates probably weren’t aware of. Not because he was hiding it, but because they were a bunch of self-centered bastards when it came to their free time, preferring to spend it with their Faerie mates than with him.
All except Cedric. But as the alpha, he’d made it very clear long ago that he preferred to spend his downtime alone with his Guinness beer and the latest Netflix series he was binge watching.
Duncan had taken an interest after meeting Keegan when he’d come up from Texas. That alpha knew his way around a Two-Step, and Duncan had been immediately romanced by the music and etiquette of the dances—the Two Step, the Waltz, Swing, Line Dance…hell, even the Polka. He’d taken a few free lessons, watched some videos on YouTube, and now made it a point to sweep the lasses off their feet at least twice a week. Three times, if he could manage to sneak away. Human lasses loved nothing more than a male who could swing them around a dance floor.
And this was how he’d found out he was being followed by the lass in the forest. The one he’d never thought to see again.
All had been quiet on the Faerie front for a few days, so with his alpha’s permission to take a break from patrols, he’d climbed into Vina—his Jeep—and headed south to a nightclub he often frequented called Risky Business. Or maybe it was Risky Boys. Risky Beers? No, that couldn’t be right. Duncan stopped shaving and thought about it a moment. The name really didn’t matter, though, so he shrugged and continued with his task.
What did matter, was that he was being followed.
At first, it had been nothing more than a tickle on the back of his neck one night when he was at the club. Like the tip of a feather barely sliding over his skin. But over the next few hours, as he’d hit the dance floor with a few lasses he saw there on a regular basis, that tickle had become a scratch. And by the time he’d finally left the club, sweating his arse off and jonesing for a cheeseburger smothered with bacon, that scratch had begun to burn until his hackles rose in warning. As he’d weaved his way the few blocks to his Jeep, Duncan had glanced around, all casual-like, trying to pinpoint the source.
She hadn’t bothered to hide when he’d spotted her down the street. Hadn’t even attempted to stay out of his sight. Instead, she’d stood with her wee booted feet planted right in the middle of the sidewalk, arms crossed beneath full breasts that made his mouth water with the urge to bite into something other than a burger.
The force of that hunger had taken him so unawares, his knees had weakened and he’d nearly stumbled.
Her head had tilted to the side in a curious pose as she’d watched him falter, and Duncan had been struck anew by the luxurious look of the dark curls falling loosely over her shoulder.
Pausing with his hand on the door handle of his Jeep, he’d stared back, too dumbstruck by the oddness of the situation to think straight.
He knew those curls. He’d seen them before.
After a few seconds, her arms had dropped back to her sides. With a bored look, she’d turned and wandered all leisurely-like into the alley beside the dance hall.
Unsure of what to do, Duncan had stared at the spot where she’d last stood. Should he follow the lass? Get in Vina and go home? Had he really seen her or had one of his dance partners dropped something in his whiskey when he wasn’t looking?
The possibilities were endless.
In the end, he’d gotten into his Jeep and headed home, convinced he’d imagined the entire situation. But mostly because he was fookin’ “knackered”, as his vampire friend, Aiden, would say, and just wanted to eat and get some sleep.
However, over the next few weeks, as he’d run patrols around the diameter of Cedric’s territory and went about other menial daily tasks, the lass had appeared another sixteen times.
And Duncan no longer thought she was only in his imagination.
The lass would appear out of nowhere, sitting up high on a branch in the forest as he ran beneath in his wolf form, swinging her legs without a care in the world as she watched him go by. She’d watch him walk in and out of his apartments. He’d even caught her staring blatantly in windows. Always watching. Never saying a word.
As he didn’t discern any type of a threat from the situation, Duncan went about his business as usual until one day, feeling a bit crabbit and weary of her spying, he’d attempted to speak to her.
