The Covert Wolf

“Woof,” he murmured.

Then he stood, dropping a few bills on the table, and left. Crimson flooded her cheeks. I deserved that.

“Oh, I love your Jimmy Choos!”

Startled, she turned. A buxom blonde in a print dress stood before her table. At her side was a severe-looking businessman, a hint of silver in his short-cropped dark hair. He carried an expensive leather briefcase and wore a gray suit with a crisp red tie. The blonde was gorgeous. She carried a large designer purse on her arm and was staring at Sienna’s footwear.

Rather, her legs.

“Such fabulous shoes,” she gushed. “They display your legs nicely. You have great legs.”

“Samantha’s a connoisseur of fine footwear,” the man said. He gave her a small smile. “I apologize for taking up your time.”

The woman simpered, and squeezed Sienna’s hand. “Have a lovely day, darling!”

As they walked off, Sienna glanced down at her palm. In it was a card key in a white envelope that had instructions printed across it.

Her contacts. In disguise, most likely.

As her heart raced with trepidation, she put the card in her purse. This was worse than she’d been told if they couldn’t even meet in the open. Maybe she should back off. It wasn’t too late.

And then what? Go home in defeat? Live alone for the rest of her life, wondering what the black hole in her mind hid?

Finding the Orb meant more than acceptance back into her Fae colony. It meant recovering her lost memories. Everything in her early childhood was a panicked blur. Flashes of a forest, quiet waters and the terror of being shoved into a dark hollow, screams of terror raging around her, a hot crimson igniting the night sky … The snarls of a wolf, teeth bared as it tore into throats, blood splashing and flowing like water … then darkness.

A distant memory tugged, too deeply buried to surface. Every time she tried searching for her past, she met with a closed door. Who was she? Which side ruled her?

Fae or Draicon?

Draicon, no way in hell.

Sienna paid her bill, leaving a generous tip. As instructed, she took the elevator down, then lingered in the lobby for ten minutes, made certain no one was following her, then went upstairs.

The room had a connecting door. She opened it and entered a lavish suite.

The woman named Samantha was inside, sweeping the walls with a device that resembled the metal wand employed by airport security staff. She finished and turned with a cheerful grin. “Nothing. Clean. Not even a bedbug.”

Mischief danced in her brown eyes. “Need to check you, Miss McClare. A total pat-down. Don’t worry, I’m a professional when it comes to frisking women.”

She didn’t like the idea of this woman checking her over. It made her nervous. “Why the search? And the covert activity?”

“Can’t take any chances,” Samantha said.

“I can assure you, I’m not hiding anything.” Sienna clasped her hands, willed a smile. If this woman searched her, she’d get too nervous. Drop the glamour. The glamour fed her confidence, enabled her to look cool and professional.

Samantha gave her body an admiring glance. “Ah, not quite. There is definitely something about you.”

“Any excuse to flirt, huh, Shay?”

That deep, drawling voice, smooth as the burn of whiskey sliding down a parched throat. Sienna’s heart went still as Leather Jacket Draicon ambled with lethal grace through the connecting door, joined by the same dark-haired man who’d accompanied Samantha in the lobby bar.

The Draicon halted and stared. Ice glittered in his sharp blue gaze as he closed the door.

“You? Hell on wheels, this has to be a damn joke. Who are you?” he snapped.

The dark-haired man gestured to the Draicon. “Sienna McClare, meet Lieutenant Matthew Parker, U.S. Navy SEAL. Matt, Sienna’s Seelie Sidhe Fae from the Los Lobos colony.”

Lieutenant Parker looked stunned. “She’s a Draicon.”

“I’m not.”

“Prove it, sweetheart.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Because if you’re one, and not the Fae we’re expecting, you’re in a heap of trouble.”

All three looked at her. Sienna forced down her nervousness. She released the glamour to show her natural form. Pale, nearly translucent skin replaced the slightly darker tint. Her eyes became larger and more slanted. She pushed back her hair to display her pointed ears.

“There. Satisfied? I’m Fae, not a Draicon werewolf. Now, can I ask, what’s going on and who you are?”

The dark-haired man gave a slight smile. “Lieutenant Commander Dale Curtis, commanding officer of SEAL Team 21. Sorry for the precautions, Miss McClare. It’s necessary for security reasons. Lieutenant Parker will be partnering with you on this mission….”

“I’m sorry. I can’t work with this man.”

“Sit down, Miss McClare.”

The order was said in a soft tone, but steel threaded through the commander’s voice. Sienna sat, clenching her hands, refusing to look at the Draicon.

“Let’s get one thing straight before we start,” Lieutenant Commander Curtis said as he joined her. “This arrangement goes against my guts. I wanted my team alone on this. It’s too risky. The Fae are insular. Your aunt didn’t even want to meet. We had to work out details in a damn telephone conference. Unfortunately, she had a point. And a weapon I can’t do anything about. She can control the weather.”

Now a grim smile played on his mouth. “Unless I’d like a permanent hailstorm in Little Creek, we have to work together. You know the Orb, and your ability to glamour is powerful. I agreed to this, but no Fae is going to dictate the SEAL I chose. I don’t care if my house gets pelted by hail for the next thirty days. You’re with Matt. He’s a damned fine tracker. He could find an ice cube in a snowstorm.”

Sienna’s cheeks burned. She gestured to the blonde, who looked amused at the tension.

“I’d rather work with a woman,” she told him. “What about her? I don’t need a navy SEAL.”

Lieutenant Parker laughed. “Shay?”

Stunned, she watched Samantha’s body and face shimmer, and change shape. Full, lush lips became firm, the round cheekbones concave …

Replacing Samantha was a man dressed in black jeans and a cutoff black T-shirt. A shock of sandy-brown hair spilled down to his collar. Boyish mischief danced in his hazel eyes as he took a seat opposite her.

“Chief Petty Officer Sam Shaymore at your service, Miss McClare.”

Sienna gave him a warm smile. Finally, someone she could relate to. “You’re a Fae.”

Lieutenant Parker took a chair, swung it around and straddled it. “Shay’s a Phantom. A Mage who can shift into any kind of life-form.”

“Just one of my talents.” Shaymore opened a palm. A current of electricity sizzled there. He closed his fist, and the energy vanished.

Unease raced through her as she studied Shaymore, leaning back in his chair and folding his heavily muscled arms. Mage. They were much higher on the food chain than Seelie Sidhe. Some were endowed with powers that could cut a Fae in half before she could chant a spell.