"I woke up in Leo's house. He was excited at first. His pack only has one other woman. Then they discovered what I am."
"And what are you, Anna?" His voice was like smoke, she thought, soft and weightless.
"Submissive," she said. "The lowest of the low." And then because his eyes were still closed she added, "Useless."
"Is that what they told you?" he asked thoughtfully.
"It's the truth." She ought to be more upset about it - the wolves who didn't despise her treated her with pity. But she didn't want to be dominant and have to fight and hurt people.
He didn't say anything so she continued her story, trying to give him all the details she could remember. He asked some questions:
"Who helped you gain control of the wolf?" (No one, she'd done that on her own - another black mark against her that proved she wasn't dominant, they'd told her.)
"Who gave you the Marrok's phone number?" (Leo's third, Boyd Hamilton.)
"When and why?" (Just before Leo's mate stepped in and stopped him from passing Anna around to whatever male he wanted to reward. Anna tried to avoid the higher-ranking wolves - she had no idea why he'd given her that number and no desire to ask.)
"How many new members have come into the pack since you?" (Three, all male - but two of them couldn't control themselves and had had to be killed.)
"How many members of the pack?" (Twenty-six.)
When she finally wound down to a stop she was almost surprised to find herself sitting on the floor across the room from Charles with her back against the wall. Slowly Charles let his chair drop back to the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily and then looked at her directly for the first time since she'd begun speaking.
She sucked in her breath at the bright gold of his eyes. He was very near a change forced by some strong emotion - and despite seeing his eyes, she couldn't read it in his body or his scent - he'd managed to mask it from her.
"There are rules. First is that no person may be Changed against their will. Second is that no person may be Changed until they have been counseled and passed a simple test to demonstrate that they understand what that Change means."
She didn't know what to say, but she finally remembered to drop her eyes away from his intense stare.
"From what you've said, Leo is adding new wolves and missing others - he didn't report that to the Marrok. Last year he came to our annual meeting with his mate and his fourth - that Boyd Hamilton - and told us that his second and third were tied up."
Anna frowned at him. "Boyd's been his third for as long as I have been in the pack and Justin is his second."
"You said that there is only one female in the pack besides you?"
"Yes."
"There should have been four."
"No one has mentioned any others," she told him.
He looked over at the check on her fridge.
"They take your paycheck. How much do they give you back?" His voice was bass-deep with the heat of the change behind it.
"Sixty percent."
"Ah." He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. She could smell the musk of his anger now, though his shoulders still looked relaxed.
When he didn't say anything more, she said quietly, "Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to leave or talk or turn on music?" She didn't have a TV, but she still had her old stereo.
His eyes stayed closed but he smiled, just a twitch of his lips. "My control is usually better than this."
She waited, but it seemed to get worse rather than better.
His eyes snapped open and his cold yellow gaze pinned her against the wall where she sat as he uncoiled and prowled across the room.
Her pulse jumped unsteadily and she bowed her head, curling up to be smaller. She felt rather than saw him crouch in front of her. His hands when they cupped her face were so hot she flinched - and regretted it when he growled.
He dropped to his knees, nuzzling against her neck, then rested his body, now taut as iron, against hers, trapping her between him and the wall. He put his hands on the wall, one to each side of her, and then quit moving. His breath was hot on her neck.
She sat as still as she could, terrified of doing anything that might break his control. But there was something about him that kept her from being truly scared, something that insisted he wouldn't hurt her. That he never would hurt her.
Which was stupid. All the dominants hurt those beneath them. She'd had that beaten into her more than once. Just because she could heal quickly didn't make getting hurt pleasant. But no matter how much she told herself she ought to be frightened of him, a dominant among dominants, a strange man she'd never seen before last night (or, more accurately, very early this morning), she couldn't.
Though he smelled of anger, he also smelled like spring rain, wolf, and man. She closed her eyes and quit fighting, letting the sweet-sharpness of his scent wash away the fear and anger aroused by telling this man about the worst thing that ever happened to her.
As soon as she relaxed he did as well. His rigid muscles loosened and his imprisoning arms slid down the wall to rest lightly on her shoulders.
After a while, he pulled away slowly, but stayed crouched so his head was only slightly higher than hers. He put a gentle thumb under her chin and raised her head until she gazed into his dark eyes. She had the sudden feeling that if she could look into those eyes for the rest of her life, she would be happy. It scared her a lot more than his anger had.
"Are you doing something to me to make me feel like this?" She asked the question before she had time to censor herself.
He didn't ask her how he made her feel. Instead, he tilted his head, a wolflike gesture, but kept eye contact, though there was no challenge in his scent. Instead, she had the impression he was almost as bewildered as she was. "I don't think so. Certainly not on purpose."
He cupped her face in both of his hands. They were large hands, and calloused, and they trembled just a little. He bent down until his chin rested on the top of her head. "I've never felt this way before either."
He could have stayed there forever, despite the discomfort of kneeling on the hardwood floor. He'd never felt anything like this - certainly not with a woman he'd known less than twenty-four hours. He didn't know how to deal with it, didn't want to deal with it, and - most unlike himself - was willing to put off dealing with it indefinitely as long as he could spend the time with her body against his.