The Wolven. Deborah LeBlanc

well he’s a homicide detective.”

      “A homicide detective and a vampire.”

      “Which only means he’d be more sensitive to the situation. He’s part of the underworld. He knows what has to be protected.”

      Danyon looked away for a second, and Shauna could have sworn she heard a low growl rumble from his throat. “We are wolven!” he declared. “We don’t want a vampire involved in our business. I don’t need DeFarge’s help, nor do I need you questioning my actions. Nicole and Simon were my responsibility. I will find their murderers. And believe me, there will be justice.”

      “And as their Keeper, I will be involved, whether you like it or not!” Realizing her voice had gotten a little too loud, Shauna glanced about, making sure their conversation was still private.

      This time there was no mistaking the low growl emanating from Danyon. Without another word, he whipped around and headed down the street, his long legs quickly widening the distance between them.

      Furious that he’d so abruptly dismissed her, Shauna hurriedly back-tracked a block. She planned to detour to a side street that led to the rear of August’s office complex and beat Danyon there.

      She walked fast, talking herself out of breaking into a full run. This was starting to feel ridiculous, as if she were one of the last two children left in a game of musical chairs, and only one chair remained. She’d always hated that game.

      Okay, so she might she have gotten a little exuberant—upset, even—because she hadn’t been contacted when Simon and Nicole were discovered. Still, that was no excuse for Danyon to get so huffy. She probably could have handled things more diplomatically, but he didn’t have to go storming off as if she’d peed in his Cheerios, for heaven’s sake.

      If she really wanted to be honest with herself, though, the buck stopped with her. She had a temper and knew it. It’s what made it too easy for her to run off at the mouth. Along with that, Danyon gave her mush-brain.

      Not the man’s fault, but she was living proof that temper and mush-brain made for a bad combination. Any man, wolven or not, would have gotten upset by the way she’d handled the situation. Her responsibility as a Keeper was to help keep peace between the subcultures and humans in New Orleans. The way she’d confronted Danyon had been anything but peaceful.

      Shauna slowed her pace.

      This wasn’t a game of musical chairs. And it wasn’t about her or Danyon or her attraction to him.

      It was about Simon and Nicole, about finding their murderer.

      It was about justice.

       Chapter 5

      When Shauna finally reached the main lobby of August’s office complex, Danyon had already arrived. He was standing alongside Rita Quinn, August’s executive assistant, near the entrance to the hallway that led to August’s maze of offices. As always, the middle-aged were looked immaculate. She wore a lavender pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, and her light brown hair had been rolled into a perfect French twist. Elegant and tasteful, just like everything in August’s life.

      When Rita spotted Shauna, she smiled warmly.

      Danyon barely looked her way.

      “How wonderful to see you, Ms. MacDonald,” Rita said. “Your timing is perfect, as always. I was about to lead Mr. Stone to the conference room. Mr. Gaudin is expecting both of you.”

      “He is?” Puzzled, Shauna glanced over at Danyon, wondering if he’d somehow managed to call ahead and let August know they were coming.

      As if reading her thoughts, he shrugged, indicating he had no idea how August knew.

      “Of course,” Rita said, then motioned for them to follow her. “Mr. Gaudin is already in the conference room. He’s on a call at the moment, but he insisted I bring both of you to him the moment you arrived.”

      They followed Rita down a long, wide hallway, a runner of plush beige carpet stretching along the oak-wood floor.

      Shauna felt a little awkward walking beside Danyon. She’d acted like a child earlier and was embarrassed about it. Figuring the adult thing to do was probably apologize, she sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye to get a handle on his mood. He was stern-faced, eyes locked forward. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been in another parish.

      Maybe later for that apology.

      Maybe.

      Rita led them to a set of heavy double doors, then opened one and motioned them inside. The room held a mahogany conference table, massive and oval and surrounded by twelve leather wing-back chairs. In the south corner of the room, near the back, stood a standard-size mahogany desk. August stood beside it, phone to his ear. He nodded an acknowledgment when he saw them.

      “Make certain it is taken care of immediately,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line, then he turned slightly, listening intently.

      Even in profile, the elder was a formidable figure. He was shorter than Danyon, although not by much. His silvery-white, shoulder-length hair was a testament to his age, but his stature, the breadth and depth of his chest and shoulders, and his large strong hands appeared to be in direct opposition, for they were appropriate to a much younger man. August’s presence radiated a quiet confidence and wisdom, but when called for, he elicited fear just as easily. He was an attorney by trade and had been elected to the city commission, and also worked with the tourism board. Shauna had always been impressed by his accomplishments, but that wasn’t what bonded her to him.

      August was the leader of all the werewolves throughout the South, and certainly the fact that she was Keeper of the werewolves in this city had something to do with the kinship they shared. But the connection between them ran much deeper than that.

      August had fought alongside her parents in their struggle to avert the great war between the races, and when they died, he immediately took Fiona, Caitlin and Shauna under his wing. He’d raised them as his own. Taught them what it meant to be Keepers. Made sure they were well educated, well fed, loved and protected. He was like a grandfather to Shauna, and each time he looked at her with those gentle, powder blue eyes she felt unconditionally loved. They might not have been bio logically connected, but sharing DNA never assured anyone of love.

      As soon as August hung up the phone, Shauna walked over and gave him a hug. He returned it warmly.

      “Would anyone care for something to drink?” Rita asked, still standing at the threshold of the room.

      “No, thank you,” Shauna said.

      Danyon, who was standing at the far end of the conference table, shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

      “That will be all, Rita,” August said.

      Rita nodded and quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

      August put an arm around Shauna’s shoulder and led her to the table. After pulling out a chair for her, he motioned to Danyon. “Please, make yourself com fort able.”

      When everyone was seated, Shauna asked, “Rita said you were expecting us, August. How did you know we were coming?”

      “Simple logic,” August said, “I heard about the deaths half an hour ago.”

      “From whom?” Danyon asked.

      “Rayo Black, one of the bartenders at Jumani’s. Apparently he was working when Andrea went into the bar looking for Andy Saville. Rayo saw how upset she was and offered her a drink to calm her nerves. He claimed after Andrea downed a couple, she began to cry and told him about the dead weres. He called me immediately. Since the weres were from Danyon’s pack, and since you, Shauna, are their Keeper, it was only logical that the two of you would come to me.”

      August sighed deeply, propped his elbows on the table