Page 96 of What a Wolf Demands

“Lizette?” Remy asked, his voice mild.

“Yeah?”

“You got any smelling salts? Cause I’m gonna pass out.”

A firm hand clapped Dom on the shoulder, and Max spoke in a low voice at his side. “Welcome to the club, Prado. You’re caught. Well and truly.”

The words snagged in his brain. He’d heard that before . . .

No, he’d said that before—to Lily when he cornered her in the dance club the first time they met.

A bolt of happiness shot through him. He’d never been so content to have the tables turned on him.

Somewhere in the distance, a door opened, followed by footsteps.

Dom forced his gaze away from Lily as a male approached from the direction of Max’s study.

Max turned. “What is it, Duncan?”

Recognition flared in Dom’s mind. Duncan Tavish was the best Tracker in the New York Territory. He was young, but his bloodline was full of wolves known for their ability to sniff out lies. Several of his relatives, including his mother, had trained as lawyers. There were no werewolf courts, but their skills came in handy when territorial disputes sprang up.

And murders. The Tavishes were also helpful when it came to solving murders.

Dom nodded at Duncan, who returned the greeting before addressing Max. “My apologies, Alpha, but the loup-garou are getting, ah, restless.”

A muscle jumped in Max’s jaw. It was obvious he had quite a lot of feelings about the loup-garou, but he merely turned to Dom and raised a brow. “Ready?”

Dom looked at Lily. “Ready, sweetheart? Remember, you’re not going into this alone.”

“I know,” she said. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Max made a low sound of approval, clearly impressed by her courage. Then he looked at Duncan and nodded. “Lead the way.”

They moved as a group down the hall, the females paired off with their males. Satisfaction shot through Dom as he realized he could count himself among those ranks. For too long, he’d sort of existed on the sidelines, watching as his friends found love one by one.

He never imagined it would happen to him, too.

Lucky. Yeah, fortune had smiled on him, giving him the kind of second chance most people could only dream about.

A set of heavy double doors led to Max’s study—the only completely soundproof room in the Lodge. That was a necessity in a species with supernatural hearing.

Duncan stopped, then looked at Max over his shoulder.

The Alpha nodded.

Duncan threw open the doors.

Inside, a small group of wolves sat in rows of chairs arranged before a massive wooden desk. On the far wall, the forest was visible through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the gorge. It was an impressive room and an impressive display—a visual reminder that Max ruled over the most powerful territory in the country.

As Dom led Lily inside, another wolf caught his eye. Unlike the loup-garou, he stood at the back of the room, his arms folded over a broad chest. He wore an expensive suit that had obviously been made just for him. A heavy diver’s watch winked on his wrist. His dark hair was thick and brushed back from a wide forehead.

A lawyer, perhaps? Dom had never seen him before, yet there was something strangely familiar about him. Was he the “trick up the sleeve” Max had spoken of?

The male, who’d been staring at the loup-garou, shifted his gaze. He looked straight at Dom, his eyes a startling shade of gold . . . then his lips curved in a mischievous smile.

Dom almost stopped in his tracks. What the hell? Nothing about the situation was funny.

Before he could say anything, an accented voice drawled from the front of the room. “You kept us waitin’, Simard. That’s pretty rude, don’t you think?”

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