"There is no wrong between us," she repeated his words with more satisfaction. "That means yes, right?"
He looked at her again, "That means yes. Right."
"And you are as confused about this as I am?"
It seemed important to her that they were on equal ground. But he could not lie to her. "No. Differently confused, I think. And possibly more confused. You haven't had the better part of two hundred years to decide who you are and who you aren't. When that all changes..." Charles shrugged.
He wasn't used to all of this emotion. He'd taken the feelings and desires of his human half and stuffed them somewhere so they wouldn't interfere with the things he had to do. And now they were all back, and he had no tools to deal with them-and he wasn't stupid enough to think that they would ever allow themselves to be stuffed away again.
"Differently confused," she said. "Okay. That's okay."
She reached out and touched his arm, drawing a finger down. "When I touched you today... it feels as though you have two souls in one body. Is that how I am?"
"Anna," he told her. "You are how you are. Brother Wolf and I... You know I was born werewolf and not Changed. That has left some differences, I think. To function, most werewolves have to make their wolf obedient if not completely subservient. After a while, the wolf spirit is reduced to a part of the man's spirit. An unthinking, violent part full of instincts and desires but no true thoughts."
He looked at her pale hand on the green silk shirt he wore. "I am not my grandfather, to look into the heart of man," he told her. "I don't know that what I've told you is truth. It is just what I've seen and felt.
"Brother Wolf and I reached a different compromise. In situations where I am better able, he allows me full control-and I extend him the same courtesy."
"Two souls," she said.
"No," he shook his head. "One soul, one man, two spirits. We are one, Brother Wolf and I. Inseparable. If he died, so would I."
"Have I crippled my wolf?"
He rolled on his side, drawn closer to her by her concern. "It isn't something to be mourned. It is simply survival. But if it helps, I think you and your wolf have reached a different compromise altogether." He smiled. "I think that's why Brother Wolf chose you in the first place-before we'd had much more than a chance to say hello. We balance, you know. You to me, your wolf to mine. She's shy unless you are threatened, but she's all there."
Anna closed her hand on his arm. "Okay. I can deal with that better than the alternatives."
"Do you need any more words between us?" he asked, her touch making his voice go husky.
Chapter FOUR
BEFORE she could answer, his cell phone rang. It wasn't his da's ring-and if they'd been home, he'd have let the answering machine pick up. But this wasn't home. He was here to do a job, and that meant answering phone calls at inconvenient times. So he snagged his coat off the floor and took his cell out of the pocket.
"Charles," he said.
He was answered by a stream of southern French that flowed by so fast he caught one word in four. But that was enough.
"I'm coming," he said, and hung up while the other wolf was still speaking.
"Did you catch that?" he asked pulling on his boots.
Anna shoved her feet in her shoes. "I don't speak French."
"The Spanish wolves were eating at the restaurant that Jean Chastel decided to bring his wolves to. Matters are escalating-and to add to the fun, the British Alpha is there, too."
"Who called you?"
"Michel, one of the other French Alphas-who'll be punished if Jean ever figures it out. I gather our informant called from the men's room. Hopefully, he'll take proper precautions to protect himself." He jerked on his coat. " Seattle is a big city. Hard to fathom that three factions of werewolves ended up in the same restaurant at the same time. If I find out someone planned this, heads will roll."
"If the restaurant is Bubba's Basement Barbeque, it might be an accident," Anna said, pulling on her own coat. "I had at least five pack members-including your father and Asil-tell me to make you take me there. It's apparently famous for its endless, endlessly good ribs. Asil told me he'd never been, but its reputation was good enough that it had spread all the way to the packs in Europe."
Charles looked at her thoughtfully. "People talk to you," he said. "That could be useful."
APPARENTLY, they were going to jog to the restaurant. Anna was glad of her tennis shoes on the wet and steep hill they charged down.
Charles, cat-footed as he was, slipped and slithered in the pouring rain. His cowboy boots were slick-bottomed, though she didn't think it really slowed him down much. They both ran quietly, but she could feel the attention they were drawing. In the city, people pay attention when you run because it makes you either predator or prey.
It concerned her for a moment, but risk assessment was something she'd have to leave to Charles. She didn't know the wolves involved-or how far they were from the restaurant, exactly. He kept their speed to easily within human limits, so he was giving some consideration to the attention they were gathering.
She liked running with him. Without him, something inside her always worried that she would become the prey. She couldn't imagine Charles being anyone's prey.
After a few blocks, he slowed to a brisk walk, and they turned onto a level street paralleling the Sound. Like Lake Michigan in her native Chicago, the water had a presence, a weight that she'd have felt even if she hadn't been able to see it peeking out between buildings and streets.
A red neon sign proclaiming Bubba's Basement the best barbecue in Seattle had an arrow that pointed down a wide set of steps to the basement of something that might have been some kind of bank or office building-it had that neutral upscale look.
Charles opened one side of the double-door entrance, releasing the heady combination of beef, barbecue sauce, and coffee. The restaurant was dimly lit and, to Anna's quick glance, mostly full. There was a pall over the room like the weight of a thunderstorm, so strong Anna wondered if even humans could sense it.
Charles inhaled and turned left, walking around a wall of shrubbery, through a swinging door, and into a room set apart from the rest of the place. A discreet sign above the door noted that the room could be reserved for large groups for a small fee and could hold up to sixty people. When Anna followed Charles through it, she noted that there were barely a quarter of that many people in the room right now-and it wouldn't have been large enough for them even if it had been four times as big.