Page 21 of Feral

“Well then, that settles it.”

“What does?” I asked.

“Ms. Reynolds will go with you to investigate the situation,” Director Dearborn turned to the lass. “Given his clan’s history with us, it might be better for you to go undercover, perhaps as a friend or girlfriend?”

“What?” I growled, stalking over to the woman. “Are ya insane?”

Daphne took a step back and looked at Director Dearborne, and then at me.

“You wanted our help,” the director said, “and Ms. Reynolds is the expert on artifacts of this nature. I trust her opinion. If she feels that further investigation is needed, then she is the single best person to handle it.”

“My clan doesn’t care for outsiders,” I said through gritted teeth. “And Angus would never allow anyone from your organization to have access to the clan. He nearly throttled me for comin’ here to begin with.”

“That’s why I suggested that she be undercover.”

I glanced over at Daphne, who was still wide eyed and obviously as shocked as I was to hear the suggestion.

She’s green, I bet she’s never been in the field before. I can use that, though it’ll make me a right twat.

“I asked for someone who knew what they were doin’,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue. “I asked for a good agent, and yer sendin’ me someone who has no field experience.”

Daphne gasped and I didn’t have the courage to meet her eye, not when I knew I’d see such hurt there.

I’m sorry lass, but I really am doing you a favor. Someone like you is too far out of their depth when it comes to a Werewolf clan.

“Mr. MacDonald,” Director Dearborne began.

“If I may, Director,” Daphne said.

Now I had no choice but to face her. But when I did, my breath stilled in my chest. Her eyes were lit up with a fire that spoke of grit and a refusal to be stepped on. Her back was straight and her head was tilted up to meet my gaze, exposing a long, beautiful neck that I had a very hard time tearing my eyes from.

“I may not have experience in the field,” she began, the slightest tremble in her otherwise firm voice, “but I have more than enough experience in research and in recognizing artifacts of this kind. No other agent will have the ability to see the nuances of the many different artifacts this could be. The director wasn’t lying when she said you’d get the best. But if you’re too squeamish—”

“Squeamish?” I scoffed.

“— to trust us, then I suggest you continue to try and solve this yourself. Though, I will warn you, these kinds of artifacts tend to escalate situations very quickly and violently. Good day, Mr. MacDonald.”

She turned on her heel, causing her skirt to swish and allowing me a glimpse of a gorgeous leg. I was dumb founded by the guts on this lass! Even if she was a Mundane, which I was starting to believe she was, the hen had the heart of a Were; strong and fearless. It was the shock and, frankly, the arousal that this realization on which I blamed my next reckless action.

“Och, stop lass!” I shouted just before she walked out.

She turned and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up like she was presenting them to me. I had a hell of a time not staring.

“Yes, Mr. MacDonald?”

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my expression firm.

“I didn’t think of it the way ya just presented it to me.”

She waited, the barest hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“I expected a soldier, not a professor,” I continued. “So…I do appreciate yer willingness to investigate.”

She nodded and began to step back inside the office.

“But,” I said, causing her to pause mid step, “my clan won’t trust just a friend. Not even a girlfriend who isn’t a Were. I’m sorry, that’s just the truth of it.”

“What will they accept, Mr. MacDonald?” Director Dearborne asked.

---