Bloodlines (Large Print)

Chapter One

The mountains in the distance stood like timeless guardians watching everything unfold. The tall grass waved in the gentle breeze. Birds chirped to one another. Squirrels jumped from branch to branch, searching for their precious nuts. Nothing seemed out of place.
Nothing but the decapitated body at his feet.
The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air. Malcolm ignored it and concentrated on the scene before him.
Only the grass under the body was disturbed—flattened and blood soaked. He had made his own path to the body after he received the call. A pilot of a small plane had been flying low and spotted it. Luckily, the pilot was one of his.
Unluckily, so was the man on the ground, or at least what was left of him.
"What the hell! Is that Donald?"
"It is." Malcolm's gaze never left the remains of a man he had known for decades as he answered the new arrival. While not friends exactly, nor what others might call family, Donald had been part of his clan. And the clan was family. Protecting the clan fell on his shoulders. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, but it was his number one priority.
"Tell me what you see, Brody."
"Shit. I see a man I've known since he was a boy lying dead on the ground with his damn head next to him. What the hell do you think I see?"
Malcolm pinned his gaze on Brody standing next to him. "Look past your anger and pain and tell me what you see. You're a deputy sheriff now. Use your training and instincts and describe the scene."
His voice didn't rise. The grief and anger pounding at his skull didn't show in his tone, nor did he allow it to reflect on his face. His father's words echoed in his mind as they often did, "A leader must always be strong and calm, never let your people see you falter. They depend on you. Don't let them down."
Brody rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then crouched down next to the body. "There's bruising on his wrists. He was restrained. Multiple abrasions. He was beaten." Careful not to disturb the body, he lifted the remnants of the torn clothing on his torso and legs with the tip of a pen. His voice grew stronger as he described the damage done. "His legs were restrained as well. It appears he was tortured for some time."
"What else?"
The young deputy let out a rough sigh and closed his eyes for a second before opening them and examining the body again. "I smell an odd scent—one I don't recognize. He inspected all around the body and then behind them to the path they made to get there. "How the hell did they dump him here? We stomped down the grass to get here, but there's no sign of anyone else. I better call the coroner and get him out here."
"No."
Malcolm glanced down at where Brody crouched on the ground. "Call Davis and Greer—quietly. Don't tell them why, just get them out here."
Brody stood up and made the calls. He gave the address to both before ending each conversation. Davis and Greer would arrive in fewer than ten minutes. He gazed once more down at the body and then all around the area. "All right, Davis I understand. He's got the best nose. If anyone can identify a scent, he can. But why Greer? He's security on the compound, not here in town."
"This is clan business."
"Yes, it's just…well, Greer can be a bit rough around the edges, and with all the people that are going to be out here documenting the scene and everything, it might not be a good idea to have him here. He’s more likely to growl than speak half the time. Heck, he rarely talks to the locals at all. He makes folks nervous, real nervous."
"Brody, how did Donald die?"
"Well, I'm not a coroner, but I think it's pretty obvious. He was decapitated."
"Yes, and with your albeit limited experience with dead bodies as a deputy sheriff here in Clovertine County, Wyoming, how common do you think it is as a means of murdering someone?"
"Shit."
"Exactly. There will be no coroner, or anyone else witnessing this. Certainly not a human. Once Davis and Greer get here, the three of you will remove the body and any trace of it. Greer will show you how. I will inform Donald's family of his death. The why or how will remain among the four of us until I have answers. Only one of us could have deposited his body here without a trace. Only one of us would know decapitation is the most effective way to kill one of us. A Risharden did this, and I will know who and why."
"You can't think it was one of our clan? We'd smell it on him. No one in our clan could disguise their scent so well."
"Ours isn't the only clan, now is it?"
"You think another clan did this? But it would be a sign of war!"
"I deal in facts, Brody. Until I have all the facts, there will be no supposition. Am I clear? This stays among us. One mention of the possibility of war amidst the clans and there will be panic. When people panic, reasoning goes out the window. I will not have any member of the clan striking out in revenge. We don't know what happened here yet."
"Got it, boss."
"Don't call me boss."
"Well, you don't like it when anyone calls you Lord, either. What is it you want people to call you?"
"Malcolm. That is my name. Lords don't exist here anymore, at least not without attracting unwanted attention. And technically, the sheriff is your boss, not me."
The low hum of an approaching engine reached Malcolm's ears long before the vehicle sped into view. "Here are Davis and Greer."
The two clan security officers approached. Not a word was spoken as they arrived at the crime scene and bent down to examine the body and area.
Greer stood first and searched the sky in all directions.
Davis rose next and frowned down at the body. "A Risharden did this, but not one I've ever been in contact with."
Greer focused his intense stare on Malcolm. "Orders?"
"Clear away any trace of the body. Burn it and save some of the ashes to present to his parents for the passing ceremony. I don't need to tell either of you how critical silence is. We'll have a meeting tonight with the four of us and Owen. We need to investigate this quietly and thoroughly."
The three men in front of Malcolm nodded in unison.
Malcolm stared at the body one more time. "I'll leave you to it. I was supposed to be in a meeting at the hotel an hour ago. I'll see you tonight, ten o'clock, my office."
****
Evergreens interspersed with cottonwood trees lined the entrance road to the resort. Malcolm usually liked to take his time on the meandering drive. It was the window dressing before the big reveal. The massive log structure of the hotel preened at the head of the road like a grand old dame waiting for everyone to come pay her homage.
Today, he sped into the parking lot and pulled up front instead of parking his truck himself. He tossed his keys to the waiting valet and jogged up the stone steps to the entrance. He mentally shuffled through his schedule for the day. He would need to cancel or shift around his appointments. This business with Donald had just become priority number one. The hotel business, while important, paled in comparison. His brother, Owen, oversaw the resort now. Malcolm was in an advisory position only. Owen wanted him to meet the new manager he had hired to take over handling the day-to-day aspects of running the hotel, so Owen could focus on managing the whole resort.
The hotel had been opened by his family over a hundred years ago as another means of revenue for the clan. It had flourished over the past couple of decades to become a five-star resort, a double-edged sword he wasn't sure should continue to thrive. It produced a significant income, but it also meant humans arrived with the income. Too many humans around were always a liability. Yet, the clan also needed to adapt and fit in. Some, especially the elders, tended to want to stay on the compound and not mingle with any outsiders. That too, could raise suspicions.
Malcolm nodded at the few employees who gathered the courage to greet him as he made his way to the offices. Owen often criticized him for being too intimidating and scaring the human employees, but it wasn't his job to be friendly. His job was to lead his people.
He opened the door to the conference room and stopped dead in his tracks.
The woman stood abruptly and opened her mouth to speak, only to close it without a word. The smile beginning to form on her lips dissolved.
She was tall for a woman, almost six feet. At six-foot-four, he was used to having to look down at most people. Her light blonde hair was loosely drawn back into a bun. He wanted to see it hang free.
Honey brown eyes met his gaze, widened, and blinked slowly. The loud thumping of her heartbeat reached his ears. His own was elevated as well. Malcolm gripped the door handle. He wanted nothing more than to close the door and find out if the plump pink lips she was currently chewing on tasted as good as they appeared.
Instead, he stepped back into the hall and slammed the door. Malcolm marched down to Owen's office and entered without knocking or slowing, shutting the door with a backhanded shove. “I want that woman in the conference room fired and off the property immediately,” he spat out savagely.
Owen dropped the pen he held and stared at Malcolm. His gaze slid to the door and then scanned over him like he was cataloguing everything. His eyes widened, and a smile twitched at his lips.
Malcolm propped his hands on his hips and glared at his brother, who stared at him in what could only be described as amused wonder. Damn it. The woman needed to go. She was a temptation he couldn't have around right now—or ever. His body chose the wrong time to decide it wanted someone. He had long ago made the decision not to partake in the dalliances many others chose to. Partly because he could only have a true relationship with his mate. Mostly because he had too many responsibilities as it was and didn't want another one.
Their race received one true mate. Some Rishardens had no interest in sex until they found their mate. Unfortunately, it was a rare occurrence these days. With so few of their race left, mates were in short supply, and since they could only reproduce with their true mates, children were rare as well. But Elsie couldn't be his mate. She was human. It wasn't possible, was it? He had never heard of such an occurrence.
The odds of him ever finding a mate were astronomical, but that was a good thing. Mates made you vulnerable. Mates made you forget where your true loyalties and responsibilities lay. And mates and the possible children they could produce were liabilities he didn't want.
"May I ask what Elsie could possibly have done to warrant such a reaction from you? Granted, this is her first official day as hotel manager, but she's already been here several days meeting all the employees and getting to know the routines. I'm sure I told you when I hired her, she comes highly recommended, and we're lucky to get her."
Malcolm slashed his hand through the air. "She's not right for the hotel. Find someone else."
Owen stared at him a moment longer before picking up his pen and looking back at the papers on his desk. "No."
Malcolm wasn't used to his orders being questioned, except by Owen. He valued his brother's counsel so much because Owen did question him. He didn't treat him as Lord of the clan. If he didn't agree with something, he made sure to express it.
"Owen."
"Malcolm, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with the day to day running of the resort. You were the one who told me to hire a manager and stop trying to do everything myself. Amazing advice you fail to heed yourself, I might add. I like Elsie. I think she's perfect for the hotel. She's already taken a load off my shoulders. I'm not firing her when she's already relocated here. She stays."
"Owen, there are things you are not aware of. I can't explain here. We're having a meeting tonight at ten."
"And this concerns Elsie?"
"Not directly, no, but it's not a good idea to allow strangers around right now."
"Not good enough, Malcolm. She stays."
Malcolm left without a word, closing the door quietly behind him.
****
Elsie paced back and forth in the conference room. What had just happened? She had been waiting for over an hour for her new boss's brother to show up. She had lost track of time making the new employee schedules she wanted to implement, so it wasn't like she had been anxiously waiting for his arrival. Clearly, she should have, because she knew without a doubt the man who had just stormed out of here was Malcolm Donovan.
The employees had imparted tidbits about him over the past week. The women whispered how handsome he was and how tall. The men used words like powerful, decisive, and a real man's man. Whatever that meant.
The gossip hadn't done him justice.
Handsome was just too tame a word for his dark blond hair, piercing green eyes, and sun bronzed skin. Tall was an understatement. He towered over her, and with her modest heels, she hit six feet. She could understand where the powerful description derived from. He oozed the attributes from his pores. As for being decisive, she had an ominous feeling she had just witnessed it in action and not in her favor. He appeared to have judged her incompetent without ever saying a word.
She prided herself on being honest always, especially with herself. She may have not put forth the best first impression after being struck speechless by his abrupt appearance and departure. However, in her defense, she’d never experienced such an overwhelming attraction to any man before, and it momentarily struck her dumb. He was probably used to woman responding to him that way—since most of the female employees were half in love with him.
Well, he had no worries there. She would not be one of them. She tugged the bottom of her suit top down and straightened her spine. Elsie Monroe was a professional. Ask any of her former employers and they would tell him how professional and capable she was.
She may have had a momentary lapse, but she was so over it. Rude, insufferable men weren't worth an ounce of her time. If he thought he could fire her, he was in for a surprise. She had a contract, and he didn't have a single leg to stand on. It was her first official day, damn it.
Armed with the knowledge she was in the right, Elsie left the conference room, stalked down the hall to Owen Donovan's office, and knocked on the door. She intended to handle this right now, before she lost her nerve.
She opened the door at his summons and straightened her shoulders, ready to launch into a speech about her contract.
"Come in Elsie. I was just going to call you. Have a seat."
"Mr. Donovan…"
Owen smiled at her. "Elsie, I told you we're not so formal around here. Call me Owen, and please have a seat."
Elsie blinked and wondered if she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Owen was being his friendly self. If his brother had decided to fire her, he wouldn't be acting so normal. Would he?
Shutting the door behind her, she crossed the room, and took a seat in the chair facing his desk, a chair she had already been in several times during the interview process and in the past week as she learned the inner running of the hotel. Those times she had been excited to embark on her new adventure, and had appreciated the butter soft, leather wing chairs in front of his big, oak desk. Now, Elsie perched on the edge of the chair and nibbled on her bottom lip.
"I take it the meeting with my brother didn't go well?"
"Mr…" His raised eyebrow prompted her to start over. "Owen, there was no meeting with your brother. When he arrived, he didn’t say a single word. He took one look at me and left." Thinking it best not to sound like a whining child, she didn’t mention he had been more than an hour late.
"He seemed rather agitated, however." To put it mildly. "Is there something I have done or not done? Has my performance been unsatisfactory? I would be happy to discuss any concerns. As I said when you hired me, I believe honest, open communication is the key to any successful business. I would also like to add my contract states several means that are grounds for dismissal, but since today is my first day, I doubt I could've accomplished any of them."
Owen held up a hand. "Elsie, please, you're not being fired. I am pleased with your performance so far, and I think you make a wonderful addition to the hotel."
Elsie settled back into the chair and took a deep breath. The faint scent of leather and a tinge of lemon cleaner were in the air. Her gaze flitted across the contents of his desk to his face. "Thank you, Owen."
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands against his abdomen. "Elsie, my brother is the owner on record of the resort, but as I reminded him, he put the running of the business into my hands. He won't interfere. He's a busy man with a lot of responsibilities. He may come off a bit gruff, but you have nothing to worry about. Your job is secure. I doubt you will even see him, as he doesn't come into the hotel much anymore."
"I see." No, she didn't. But if her job was secure and had the bonus of not having to deal with him, she was fine.
She rose. "I'll get back to work then."
"Thank you, Elsie."





Chapter Two

The scarred, old table was massive. It could easily seat twenty. Malcolm ran his fingers along the deep grooves at the head of the table where he now stood. He remembered his father telling him the story of his grandfather making these grooves with his knife when he cut off a man's fingers to make a point. No one steals from the clan. Brutal perhaps, but effective.
That was a couple hundred years ago. Times were different. Swift justice was more the norm. Back then, his grandfather had been known as a fair man. Some of the other clan leaders would've taken more than the thief's fingers, they would've taken his life.
Malcolm had never met his grandfather. He only knew him from the stories his father and others had shared. He died at the ripe old age of two hundred and seventy-three. Almost one hundred years before Malcolm was born. Their kind lived a much longer life than humans.
He himself was thirty-eight, a babe in the woods to many of their kind. Which is why he needed to be smarter and stronger. He couldn't be distracted by pretty, little, doe-eyed blondes.
Brody and Davis strolled in the door, fracturing Malcolm's thoughts, and took a seat at the table with a nod in his direction. Greer followed shortly behind them, taking a seat to Malcolm's left.
Malcolm sat down and pressed his palms to the solid surface of the table.
Owen strode into the room. “Greer, Davis, Brody,” he nodded in greeting before taking his seat to the right of Malcolm. "Malcolm. Are we waiting for anyone else, or is this it?"
"This is it, and what’s discussed here doesn't leave this room," Malcolm stated.
"Okay, so what's going on?"
A rumble sounded from Greer. "The room is clear?"
Malcolm nodded. "Yes, I ran the scan and each of you was scanned as you entered. No one is bugged or recording anything. The scrambler is on. What's said in this room, stays in this room."
Greer maintained his pose of arms crossed against his chest and grunted his approval.
Malcolm addressed Owen. "To catch you up to speed, a call originated from Austin McGuare. He was piloting his plane and spotted a body in a field on the west side of town. Brody and I investigated it and found Donald Bronson—decapitated. All evidence points to a Risharden. I had Greer, Davis, and Brody dispose of the body and any evidence of its existence."
Owen sat back in his chair and ran his hand over his face. "Mother of God, what are we going to do?"
"We're going to quietly investigate. Find out Donald's last whereabouts, who he's been seen with, if there's been any non-clan Risharden around, etc… Above all, the circumstances of Donald's death will remain a secret until I know the facts."
"Brody, you're going to handle the town side of this, off the record, of course. Find out where Donald's been and with whom. Investigate any strangers or abnormal occurrences, anything that could be connected."
"Davis, you're going to track down the scent. If any clan members have been in contact, there may be trace amounts around. Find it."
"Greer, I want you checking and double checking every layer of security we have. No one gets on this compound without a complete scan. Tell them you're testing or whatever. I don't care. Just get it done."
"Owen, I want you to chat up clan members. They talk to you. Find out if there's anything out of the ordinary. Anyone in contact with other clans. Anything about Donald. I will talk to Donald's parents. See what they know. Then I'm going to contact the other three clans and see if I can get any information, without them knowing it, of course. Any questions?"
Owen glanced at everyone at the table before turning to Malcolm. "What's your gut tell you, Malcolm? Is this a declaration of war?"
Malcolm stared hard at Owen. "My gut tells me to get all the facts before making a decision which could affect generations to come. If another clan has broken the truce, then we will find out. If a rogue Risharden murdered Donald for some reason, we will find and deal with them. If one of our own has committed this atrocity, they will pay."
Davis leaned forward. "That scent wasn't one of our own."
"No, but we don't know if one of our own aided them."
"Man, there hasn't been war for over two hundred years," Brody smacked the table with the palm of his hand.
Owen shook his head. "Let's hope that's not what this is. I can't imagine any of our own being responsible, either."
Malcolm stood. "Brody, Greer, Davis, I expect daily reports."
The three nodded and stood to leave the room. They knew they had been dismissed.
Owen remained in his chair. Malcolm paced to the window and gazed out at the compound. It was set up like a small town. There were farms and homes spread out over thousands of acres. Barbed wire and electric fence surrounded the entire property. The entrance was gated and patrolled. To outsiders it might seem like a prison, but it was a fortress to protect the clan and its secrets.
Could one of his clan be responsible for Donald? For what purpose?
"What are your thoughts, Malcolm?"
Now that it was just the two of them in the room, he revealed his concerns. "You asked me what my gut tells me? My gut tells me war is coming, but from where I don't know. I'm concerned it's from within, Owen. I wonder if someone wants us to go to war, and that's why Donald was left in such a manner. You know there are still those who think war is the only way. One planet's destruction wasn't enough for them."
****
"How can there not be a single house for sale within a thirty-mile radius?" Elsie shut her laptop and glanced around the coffee shop. The one other patron and cashier both stared at her. She smiled slightly, realizing she had probably spoken out loud. Oh, the heck with it. "Is that normal? No houses are for sale?"
The older gentleman smiled briefly. "It's a small community and folks tend to stay. Houses get passed down in the family." He raised his to go cup at her as he ambled toward the door. "Have a good one."
"Thanks, you too."
Elsie looked at the cashier, a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a T-shirt proclaiming, “If you love him, set him free. If he doesn't come back. Shoot him and mount his head on your wall.” Her chestnut brown hair was drawn back in a short ponytail, reminding Elsie of a rooster tail.
"I guess it explains why there isn't a real estate agent to be found around here."
The cashier gave her a small, crooked smile.
Ugh, she couldn't stay in the hotel indefinitely. She needed a place to live. Most of her things were in storage. She had been eagerly anticipating buying a house and making it her own. Her condo in Chicago had sold before she moved here, and she had hoped to find a house this time.
"There are some places to rent."
Elsie glanced up at the cashier, who now stood next to the table.
"Would you like a refill?" The hot aroma of coffee drifted from the pot.
“Um, thanks.” She held out her mug. “Rent, you said?” It wasn't her first choice, but maybe it was her only option until something was listed for sale.
"There's a house by the river that's empty now, and an apartment above the hardware store down the street."
The river ran along the south side of town where the resort stood. It would be extremely convenient for work. An apartment seemed kind of small. She wanted more space and privacy. "Do you know who I speak to about renting the house?"
"That would be Mr. Donovan."
A sick feeling formed like a knot in her stomach. "That wouldn't be Owen Donovan, would it?" Oh please, please, let it be Owen.
"No, Malcolm." She refilled Elsie's coffee and walked back behind the counter.
So much for that. "And the apartment? Who do I talk to about it?"
"Same."
Great, just great. I can't buy any properties and the ones for rent are apparently owned by Malcolm Donovan, who doesn't want me here. There's no way he's going to rent to me. What the hell am I going to do? I have until the end of the month in the hotel, and then I must find a place to live. I guess I need to expand my search. I'll end up with one hell of a commute, but what other option do I have?
Elsie collected her belongings and left a generous tip before strolling out into the bright, warm day. Brick buildings lined Main Street, filled with shops and a few restaurants and bars. She speculated the resort guests provided most of the income for the businesses. It was a quaint but charming town with a scenic backdrop that took her breath away. She'd fallen in love the first time she set eyes on the scenery.
A loud booming voice called out, "Donovan, hold up a minute!"
Elsie almost tripped over her own two feet as she snapped her head up in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, there was Malcolm Donovan, about twenty feet away from her. An older, big barrel of a man approached him.
She considered heading in a different direction, but her car was parked past Malcolm, and it smacked of total cowardice to run away. Totally against her nature, and she couldn't avoid him indefinitely. He probably would ignore her anyway, and he was busy with that man. She glanced back toward her car, only to have her gaze snagged by his.
Donovan wasn't busy talking. The man had disappeared. He wasn't ignoring her either. He stared straight at her.
So be it. Elsie straightened her shoulders and grasped the shoulder strap of her purse. She might as well at least mention the possibility of renting one of his properties. Then she would know she had tried.
She strode up to him and stopped a good four feet away. "Mr. Donovan, it's my understanding you are the owner of the only two rental properties in town."
Waiting a beat for him to either confirm or deny proved pointless. He stood silently with his hands in the pockets of his pants, watching her.
"I would like to look at them, and possibly rent one. The house preferably, as there don't seem to be any houses for sale in the area."
"Let's go." He started walking down the sidewalk in the direction of her car.
"I beg your pardon?" Did he mean he was going to show her the house?
He stopped and stared at her over his shoulder. "Do you want to see it or not? I've only got a few minutes."
"Oh, yes, of course. Shall I drive? My car is right over there." She pointed to the new Subaru wagon she had purchased after accepting the position here.
"I'll meet you there."
He continued past her car to a huge truck.
Elsie scrambled into her car, tossing her purse and laptop onto the passenger seat. She couldn't believe he was actually willing to show her the house. Maybe what happened a few days ago was all just a terrible misunderstanding.
Or maybe he was luring her to a private place to do away with her.
"Oh, for goodness’ sake, don't be melodramatic," she mumbled to herself.
More likely, he was taking the opportunity to get her to leave on her own since he couldn't fire her. Was he just setting her up? Did he have any intention of renting to her?
Well, she was about to find out.
She followed him to the outskirts of town and pulled in behind him. A brown Victorian with a small, covered porch on the right side stood before them. It was bare of any sort of decoration. There were no flowers or shrubs lining its sides. A single tree stood sentry in the side yard. What it did have was a majestic view of the river and mountains.
Elsie took a deep fortifying breath and stepped out of the car. Stay positive and polite. Stay positive and polite. She repeated the words in her head again and again. He was the owner of the resort she worked for, and the owner of the house she needed to rent.
Without saying a word, he strode up onto the porch to the front door.
Positive and polite, Elsie.
****
Malcolm unlocked the door of the rental house. It was a keypad lock, so he didn't have to lug a bunch of keys around with him. He owned most the buildings here in town. It gave him control of who lived here, as well as a tidy income.
He had known it was her car when he'd pulled up next to it. He'd seen her drive by yesterday when he was at the sheriff's office talking to Brody.
They were no closer to finding out what happened to Donald, and not having any answers kept him awake at nights. That and the beautiful blonde walking up the steps behind him.
Malcolm wasn't sure what possessed him to take her to see the house. He should have shut her down immediately, but instead he found himself inviting her to see the rental.
There truly weren't any houses for sale. He bought them every time they appeared on the market, which wasn't all that often. Some clan members preferred to live off the compound. If one of the clan didn't want the property, then he would keep it and rent it out. There were always outdoorsmen who wanted to rent a place for a week or two to go hunting, fishing, hiking, or whatnot.
If he didn't rent to her, then she would have to go at least an hour away to find anything. Not many would like that kind of commute, especially come wintertime.
So, here he was with her standing in the doorway behind him. He stood at the bay window in the living room, pretending to stare out at the river. Instead, he was completely focused on her. She had a clean, fresh scent that prompted him to take a deeper breath.
Malcolm listened as she paused hesitantly, and then her heels clicked along the wooden floorboards as she walked the perimeter of the room and back into the hallway to the adjoining dining room and kitchen.
His hands stayed clenched in his pockets to keep from following or touching her.
Elsie couldn't be his mate.
She was human.
There had never been a human mate as far as he knew. It would be a calamity. They only lived a fraction of the Risharden lifespan, and they were so damn fragile.
So why did he want her so badly? Yes, she was attractive, but he'd seen more beautiful women. Risharden were known for their beauty. Yet, he'd never been so tempted before. Malcolm had abstained from a sexual relationship with any Risharden woman because he didn't want to risk having a mate. That kind of responsibility and vulnerability was abhorrent to him. He'd seen what it had done to his father. After his mother had passed, his father had gone insane with grief. He no longer cared about the clan, his sons, nothing. Bound mates didn't survive long without one another.
As the clan leader, having a sexual relationship with a human woman would be severely criticized by many members of the clan, especially since he didn't go near any Risharden women. He couldn't touch Elsie.
She came back downstairs and entered the living room, but he didn't turn around. Malcolm didn't trust himself. Seeing her car had made him stop. He had gotten out of his truck and stood there waiting for her to come back to her vehicle. To what end, he didn't know, but he'd wanted a glimpse of her. The intention to speak to her had been absent until she appeared in view.
She’d stepped out of the coffee shop and smiled as she looked around. A lightness bloomed in his chest. She had started digging through her purse as she strolled down the sidewalk toward him. For a second or two he thought about leaving, but found himself rooted to the spot, entranced by her long legs as she made her way toward him.
The sheriff calling out to him had brought Elsie's head up and her forward stride to a dead stop. Her eyes had widened when she spotted him, and then she’d spun as if to flee in the other direction. He’d brushed the sheriff off with a promise to stop by later and waited to see what she would do. It amused Malcolm when she threw back her shoulders and headed straight toward him. If she knew how it drew his gaze right to the full curves of her breasts, he doubted she would continue the motion.
Luckily, she’d stopped just out of his reach, because he’d had the sudden urge to drag her into the nearest alley and find out if her kiss would live up to the fantasies he'd been having.
When she’d mentioned the house, he’d acted on impulse. A rare occurrence for him. He had wanted to prolong his presence in her company. He hadn't thought it through. He should refuse her the rental.
"Mr. Donovan, I would like to rent this house. Could you tell me how much, and when I could move in?"
A slight tremor accompanied her words. He made most people nervous, so he was used to it, but he didn't like hearing it from her. She most likely expected him to turn her down. She had to know he'd demanded Owen fire her. He doubted it would be a surprise if he refused her the rental.
"Eight hundred a month. You can move in immediately. I'll have a contract ready by tomorrow. Here's the code to the front door." Malcolm withdrew a receipt and a pen from his pocket and wrote the code down. Placing it on the mantel of the fireplace, he strode out the door past her. He needed to get out of here now.
As he got into his truck and maneuvered past her car, he hoped he hadn't made a grave mistake. Having her in town, close at hand, just might prove too tempting for him to resist.
Elsie let out a whoosh of breath and collapsed back against the hallway wall. The man sucked up all the air in a room. She fanned herself with her hand and took a deep, calming breath.
He had rented her the house!
She had been so sure he was going to refuse her. He'd barely said a word to her, never even glanced in her direction. Malcolm hadn't budged from the living room window. But she had seen the slightest reflection of his face in the window. His features were tight and hard. For some insane reason, she'd had the urge to soothe him somehow. She could just imagine his reaction if she had given in to the urge to hug him. Probably knock her to the floor in his haste to get away. Or maybe just stare down at her with his arrogant gaze wondering how she dared to touch him.
Elsie snorted in laughter. Okay, maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit. After all, he said she could move in immediately. The rent was much lower than she had expected, too.
A giddy chuckle burst from her, and she clapped her hands together. She had a house to live in!







Chapter Three

Owen walked in and closed the office door. "I heard you rented the house by the river to Elsie."
Malcolm looked up from his desk. "Your point?"
Owen dropped into the chair in front of the desk and grinned. "My point Malcolm, really? You insisted I fire her and now you're renting her a house. I thought for sure I was going to have to offer her one of the villas at the resort. In fact, I was getting ready to suggest it to her when she happily declared the news you rented her the house."
"Happy, was she?"
"Thrilled, she grinned from ear to ear. Started going on about the fabulous view, grand old fireplace, porch trim. After that, I tuned her out."
Malcolm gazed back down at the papers on his desk. "It made sense. You refused to fire her. She needed a place to live. I had a house sitting empty. Now I have a rental income, and your manager is close to the resort if you need her. End of story."
"Mm-hmm."
"Is that the only reason for your visit, or do you have something else to impart? Something more important perhaps?"
"I actually do have some news. It appears Donald was searching for a mate among the other clans. He had gone on one of those meet and greets. You know where they arrange a get together so members of other clans who are searching for a mate can meet and see if there's a chance."
"I'm aware of them, of course."
"Well, according to his buddy Brian, Donald attended one of these in Hawaii. It's always in a neutral location. Even his parents didn't know he was doing this."
"Is Brian the only one you've heard this from?"
"Donald's Aunt Jennifer confirmed it when I spoke to her. She said it was her idea for him to go. He didn't tell his parents because he wasn't exactly hopeful about finding a mate and didn't want to get his mother's hopes up. She was really longing for a grandchild. His father isn't an enthusiastic fan of other clans, to put it mildly, so he didn't want to open that can of worms."
"Do you know how he or his aunt knew of this gathering?"
"His aunt told him about it. She traveled to one a few years ago. Obviously, it didn't work for her since she is still single. She knew about it from a contact she made when she attended a council meeting about twenty years ago with Dad."
"What contact?"
“All I got was a first name, Marissa, from the Euro clan. I didn't push because I didn’t want to raise suspicion about why I was asking questions. I think she believes I might be interested in going to a meeting.” Owen grimaced. “This better not lead to hopeful mamas and their daughters chasing after me.” He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “I can try later to get a last name.”
"That won't be necessary. I believe I know who she is. Father took Jennifer to a council meeting because of her expertise on Risharden culture. She has studied the various clans. Her counterpart in the Euro clan is Marissa Stanovich."
Owen propped his ankle on his opposite knee and started tapping his fingers on the arms of the chair. "What's the next step? Are you going to sign up for one of these meet and greets?"
Malcolm barely spared him a glance. "I've arranged to visit two of the clans on the pretense of buying a ship from the Euro clan and some tech from the Asia clan. The third clan is a greater challenge to investigate. The South American clan is excessively reclusive. Davis will go with me to see if he can track the source of the scent. I've had Greer compile a list of all the clan members’ locations from the time of Donald's disappearance until his discovery. He's also going to be keeping track of current locations as well."
"You really suspect one of the clan is responsible?"
"I'm not ruling it out, but the plan is two-fold. It's also for their security. I don't want another member to turn up dead."
"And the meet and greet?"
He stared at Owen for a moment contemplating sending his brother to one. The thought amused him, but it just wasn't feasible for a member of the clan's ruling family to attend a clandestine meeting with other clan members. With current tensions, he wasn't about to risk his brother's safety either.
"Brody is the only option unless I want to involve anyone else, and I don't."
"You sure? I think it would be interesting to send Greer."
Malcolm slashed him a glare but didn't respond.
"When do you leave for these meetings?"
"Tomorrow. There's no time to spare. We need to get to the bottom of Donald's death. Unless something surfaces from the meetings, I'll be back in four days."
"Four days? That's a quick trip to visit both clans."
"Yes, but I don't want to be away from the clan right now."
"Has Brody found anything out?"
"Nothing. Which is another reason he's the one to put on the meet and greet. Find out if there is another one soon. We need to know who organized the last one, if Donald actually attended, and who else was there."
"I'm on it." Owen stood and stretched out his hand over his brother's desk. "Be safe brother."
Malcolm stood and clasped his forearm. They stood for a moment, forearm to forearm. Once Owen left, he walked to the double doors which opened onto a balcony.
Dusk had fallen while he'd been working to clear his desk of anything pressing before his trip. Moonlight danced along the trees. A gentle breeze sent the leaves fluttering. He had a sudden urge to fly.
It would be days before he had the opportunity again.
Shedding his clothes, he dropped them on the nearby chair. He opened the doors and stood nude on the large balcony. In a ripple of movement, bones and muscles stretched and conformed to a new shape. With a single leap, he thrust off from the balcony.
The dragon stretched his wings and took flight. The ten-foot span of his wings allowed him to soar over the treetops.
His race were shape shifters.
On their planet, the ability to shift into dragons had been common. Here on Earth, the ability had become extremely rare. His family and one other in the Asia clan were the only ones he knew of who still could shift to dragon form. As the years passed, his people took the shapes of the animals native to this planet. The laws of nature, he supposed.
Some could change into several shapes, others struggled with one. He feared the ability may be lost in generations to come. They had to be careful about not getting caught. Yet, if you didn't practice a skill, it would vanish. Where once they were basically alone in the wilderness of what eventually had become Wyoming, they now had humans living beside them. Detection was something everyone was taught to fear and avoid from an early age.
The Native Americans of the area told stories of the shape shifters of the North. The Navajo called them Skinwalkers. The Algonquian Tribes labeled them Windigos. Most portrayed them as evil creatures used to scare young children.
People feared what they didn't understand.
His domain stretched out beneath him. Security patrolled the boundaries of the compound. Malcolm rarely left the confines of the compound in this form. The last thing he needed was a stray hiker to catch a picture or spread the tale of a dragon flying over the mountains of Wyoming, one of the many downsides of the digital age for his people.
Soaring up high where the air was cooler, he could see for miles in every direction. He wondered if Elsie was settling into the house, or if she was still at the hotel.
No way should he be thinking about her. She was beyond his grasp. And he could only imagine her fear and disgust were she to witness him like this.
Days like today he longed to fly off into the mountains and disappear for days on end like he had when he was younger. Those times were behind him. The weight of responsibility dragged him down, and he dived for home—landing with a strong wave of his wings on the balcony of his office.
A shape shifting dragon could have easily dropped Donald in the field, but there were others too.
****
The white enamel of the farmhouse sink gleamed in the morning sun streaming through the window. Elsie brushed her hand against the smooth, cool surface and stood back to admire her handiwork. The kitchen was small, but entirely functional for her needs. The appliances were all in good working order, despite being at least a decade old. And thanks to her scrub session, which had lasted into the wee hours of the morning, they were as clean as she could get them.
Perhaps it hadn't been the most logical choice to move in so soon, but she hadn't been able to resist. She might love working in a hotel, but she did not want to live in one.
Armed with her luggage, and the ridiculous number of cleaners and cleaning tools she had purchased yesterday, Elsie had taken up residence in the little brown Victorian by the river. Her bedroom of choice, the one facing the river, her bathroom, and now the kitchen were clean and habitable. Pretty much every muscle she had was sore and aching from all the arduous work and sleeping on a makeshift bed of her clothes. Lack of sleep made her brain a bit foggy.
Yet, all in all, she was one satisfied woman.
She had already called and arranged to have her things shipped out here. In the meantime, she would go to the store and buy a few essentials. An inflatable mattress topped her list.
Today was her day off, so she hoped to get the rest of the house clean, as well.
The sharp rap on the front door echoed through the empty house and gave her a start. Who on earth would be knocking on her door this early in the morning? Who even knew she was here for that matter? She had only told Owen and her mother. Her mother certainly hadn't gotten on a plane to fly out here last night, and she had already divined Owen was not a morning person. Nor could she think of a reason for him to stop by. Which only left one other person she could think of, and peeking down at her old sweatshirt and jeans, she really hoped she was wrong. Please let it be anyone other than Malcolm.
With a shrug, she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to the front door. He couldn't think any less of her, could he? Who cares anyway, as long as he wasn't reneging on renting her the house. Oh, the contract, that had to be the reason he was here. She had assumed he would drop it off at the hotel.
Opening the door, she pasted a smile on her face, but it fell flat when his piercing gaze pinned her to the spot. He made a quick, but thorough inspection of her before raising an eyebrow.
She could swear the corner of his mouth almost quirked in a smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Donovan. What can I do for you?"
He stepped forward, and she immediately took several steps back. He walked in and closed the door and glanced in the living room and dining room before heading for the kitchen.
"Mr. Donovan?" Elsie trailed after him. He really needed to stop plowing through the world like he owned it. Okay, he did own this house and it seemed most of the town, but he had rented it to her. At least, he said he would. He better not be going back on his word. No, he didn't seem the type to go back on his word. He said what he meant.
He stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips. "You stayed here last night?"
"Yes." He had said she could move in immediately.
"With no food or furniture? Where did you sleep?"
Was he concerned about her? Well the surprises just kept coming with this man. Would she ever figure him out? "It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but I plan to rectify it this morning. I'd offer you something to drink, but as you saw I don't have anything."
Frowning, he strode over to the counter and leaned back against it with his arms folded across his chest. "Why don't you stay at the hotel until you have furniture?"
"I've arranged for my things to be shipped here, and I'll pick up a few things to get by until they arrive. I don't want to stay in the hotel any longer. I want my own space. I'm perfectly happy here."
He took a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and dropped it on the counter. "Your contract."
Elsie stepped forward and unfolded the document. She scanned its contents and found it straightforward. It simply stated the arrangements he had dictated yesterday. She lifted her head and realized exactly how close to him she stood.
Malcolm stared down at her. Without her heels, he was a head taller. Gold flecks shimmered in his irises. The straight line of his nose led to full lips. She licked her lips and attempted to speak from a suddenly dry mouth, but her words wouldn't come.
His arms dropped to his sides, and he leaned toward her.
She stared back, and his gaze cataloged each nuance of her face.
When his hand cupped her cheek, her breath stuttered in her chest.
His thumb slowly brushed against her lower lip. Back and forth.
Elsie struggled to grasp what was happening, but every single thought in her head drifted away.
"It seems you had some food after all," he whispered. "Chocolate for breakfast Ms. Monroe?"
She swallowed hard as he raised his thumb and put it between his lips, sucking slightly. "I…it was in my purse, all I had."
"Mmm."
Malcolm abruptly stepped away. He strode to the archway separating the kitchen from the entry hall and paused without turning around. "I'll be out of town for a few days. If you have any problems with the house, talk to Owen. He can help you."
Standing still, she listened as he walked out of the house and drove away.
What had just happened? Her gaze dropped to see her hand gripping the contract in one hand and the counter in the other.
Well at least she hadn't made a fool of herself and pursed her lips for the kiss she had thought was coming. Not that she wanted him to kiss her or anything.
Leaning her forehead against the upper cabinet, she bit her lip and groaned. Who was she kidding? The man packed a hell of a sexual punch, and she was lucky she hadn't started to drool.
What game was he playing? He was hot one minute and frigid the next.
Having to guess someone’s intentions had never interested her. She preferred honesty and straightforwardness.
Ugh. Her brain was too tired to unravel the workings of that man's mind.