NocC 003 - The Ancients 02 - Bonnie Vanak - Mated to the Wolf - Harlequin 2011-11 Read Online Free PDF Page A

self-possession.
    “You know so much about me. What about you? This is your home, but don’t you run with a pack like other weres?”
    Like a steel grate dropping, his expression shuttered. Grayson stared out at the window at the stretch of lonely field. “I live alone, run alone.”
    “Those shifters at the bar, they said things about you being a lone wolf. You have no family? What about friends?”
    Tension made his skin stretch tightly over his cheekbones. The scar flared into white. “You ask too many questions.”
    “Not for someone you expect to mate,” she observed. “That means sharing a life together and how can I share a life with a complete stranger? I don’t even know where we are. Or your birthday. How old are you? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What about your parents?”
    “A small town near Estes Park, Colorado. September 2. I’m 2,300 years old. My parents are dead to me and so are all my siblings.”
    He stood, water droplets cascading down his firm chest, splashing into the tub. His limbs were strong, his skin golden brown and taut over bone and muscle. Damp heat from the water had curled the ends of his black hair. She suddenly yearned to run her fingers through the strands, her tongue wanted to taste the texture and warmth of his skin.
    When he crouched down, and brushed a kiss beneath the hollow of her ear, she became immobilized. Grayson squeezed her shoulder, rubbed gently. “Enjoy your bath, Samantha. You need to relax.”
    As he donned his robe, she blinked, astonished. He was leaving? After sharing a bath with her, she’d expected seduction. Not this guarded look. Maybe she’d probed too deeply.
    “The guest bedroom is ready for you. There’s no fireplace, but plenty of warm blankets. I turn the heat off because it gets too stifling. I bought you new clothing and it’s in the dresser. Good night.”
    “Grayson?” As he turned at the door, she hesitated. Samantha licked dry lips. “What kind of deadline am I facing? I mean, before the Society sends the Hunters after me?”
    “Tomorrow. But I told you, Samantha, I won’t force you. When you’re ready, you will come to me.”
    The water grew colder. Realizing her skin was pruning, she stepped out of the tub and dried her body. The hardwood floor was cold beneath her bare feet and she ran into the smaller bedroom she had passed earlier.
    It was equipped with more pine furniture and a sizable bed piled with quilts. A flannel nightgown was atop the quilts. It spilled past her ankles as she shrugged into it.
    Then she explored her prison, sliding past the partly opened door of his bedroom. In the living room was a desk and a laptop. She powered up the computer, searched the files. Grayson was an online investment banker. He’d done very well for his clients and had enough money to buy the state of Colorado.
    She found an email from the Society detailing the assignment to capture her, and a photo. But nothing personal. No emails from friends, evites, links to groups or interests. No Facebook page, either. Closing the laptop, she scanned the living room. No photos of family, a girlfriend, no items cluttering the shelves. The living room was as impersonal as a rental.
    In one corner was a locked cabinet. Samantha summoned her powers, touched the door. It opened with a soft snick. Her eyes widened as she examined the cache of weaponry. Rifles, shotguns, handguns, and a wicked-looking crossbow with silver-tipped arrows. Her hand trembling, she closed the door. Obviously he took his job as a Hunter very seriously.
    How many lives had he claimed? Hunters weren’t discriminatory. Many liked to torture their victims before bringing them in for the bounty. Yet she didn’t sense Grayson harbored that streak of cruelty. He could have forced himself on her, but didn’t. He’d been nothing but gentle and considerate.
    She wandered to a built-in bookshelf, thumbed through a few titles. Here was the real Grayson. Fiction. Nonfiction. And