Page 3 of Her Wolf Protector

Tate snorted. "The inventor? He's impossible to get a hold of. We've been waiting months on his super-secret new batteries for the Hea Sanctuary power station. Haven't you seen the emails from Verre Electrical Engineering asking about the backup battery system, if Snow doesn't come up with the goods?"

"He's more than an inventor. Chemist, botanist, engineer...he's what people used to call a polymath. I've heard stories...someone told me he was the fae lover Sanctuary Spring was created for. I heard somewhere else that he was Leonardo da Vinci's mentor for a time, too. I don't know if there's any truth in either tale, but he has been around a while, long enough to pick up a lot of knowledge. It's worth asking him."

Tate threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll get the samples to your office as soon as I can, and you get them to someone who can analyse them. When it comes to beasties with throats too small to rip out, it's outside my area of expertise."

Sienna laughed. "Yep, that's the enforcer who greeted me when I first arrived for your party. Are you still suspicious of me, Tate?"

She was teasing, but he was serious. "No, Pack Leader. It's my job to be suspicious of anyone who isn't pack, or a friend of the pack. I protect the pack."

"And do the water testing for Hea Sanctuary, I understand. To give the pack space to expand. You take care of the water. I'll see to the mattresses," Sienna promised.

Go to war? Perhaps Sienna didn't understand her unwitting Godfather reference, and Shaw had missed it entirely, but it did make Tate think.

Yes, Shaw might be more distracted now he had a mate, but Wuffingas Pack had an incredible leader in Sienna Rubens. If she led the pack to war, for whatever reason, the pack would follow. Including Shaw.

"There's some fresh Scotch eggs in the fridge, if you want to take some of those up to the cottage with you. I had to do something with all the wild boar meat your hunters keep bringing in. I know it's the ultimate in free range pork, but I can only fit so many pork pies in the freezer. Please take some of the eggs."

Sienna was one of the cooks who owned Red Cottage Catering. Her cooking was nothing short of divine.

"How many can I take?" Tate asked eagerly.

Sienna threw her hands in the air. "How many can you carry?"

Yes, claiming Sienna as his mate and fellow pack leader was the best thing Shaw had ever done.

THREE

"Drink some tea, dear. It will help you feel better," a female voice crooned.

A warm cup touched Arwen's lips. Strong tea was the Scottish cure for everything. Not that weak English stuff. Well, that and whiskey, of course. So she drank down the particularly bitter brew, hoping it would work quickly. If only tea had been enough to save Da...

Arwen jerked up, then wished she hadn't. Her whole body felt like a dead weight that had been hit by a high speed lorry. She tried to lift a hand to her throbbing forehead, and even that felt like she was lifting bricks. She blinked at something black on her wrist. On both wrists. Black bracelets she'd never seen before that couldn't possibly weigh that much. She pushed one off, and while the weight lessened, her arm still felt like lead.

"You should keep those on, dear. Your father swore by them. He said it improved his circulation. Pure, raw haematite." Ravenna set the cup and saucer on the bedside table, so she had both hands free to put the bracelet back on Arwen's wrist.

This time, it didn't feel like just her arm was heavier, but her whole body had doubled in weight. Maybe if she just finished her tea...

Arwen reached for the teacup with the nearest leaden arm, and forced herself to bring it to her lips. She'd feel better soon, she was sure of it. It tasted even more bitter now, like someone had boiled it for hours until the leaves turned into tar. She peered into the dregs, expecting to see black on the bottom of the cup, but instead it was white. Powdery white.

"Let me take that for you, dear. You don't want to spill it on the bed," Ravenna said, snatching the cup and taking it over to the tea tray. A tray that held a teapot and a familiar medicine bottle. Her father had taken digoxin for as long as she could remember – he'd helped make it part of mainstream cardiac medicine, he'd said more than once. The goddess only knew how long ago that had been. Decades, or even centuries. She should ask him to tell her the tale again, so she could remember every detail.

She didn't want to forget...

Oh no. Da. He was gone. And it looked like Ravenna was dosing her with his heart medication, so Arwen would soon follow.

Digoxin, digoxin...it was the first poison she'd ever researched, back in high school, when she'd first become interested in forensic toxicology. Now she was about to graduate with a degree in that discipline, and she couldn't remember the first thing...

Nausea. Dizziness. Lethargy. Her heart fluttering...oh, fuck. How long had she been asleep? How much had Ravenna given her? She needed to get the antidote into her system and fast. Before her heart ended up as damaged as Da's had been.

She had to get up. Get to hospital. Even if she had to crawl out of here. Off went the bracelets – permanently this time. Every bit of weight counted. Her ball gown was gone, replaced by a very plain set of pyjamas that looked like hospital scrubs. Those would do, with a big coat over the top. She was going to hospital, anyway. She just had to get there.

Iselin would take her.

Arwen dug her phone out of the bag someone (Iselin?) had thoughtfully brought up to her bedroom. She tapped out a quick message, asking Iselin to meet her out the front as soon as possible. She just needed to make it downstairs.

Holding onto the bannisters for dear life, Arwen dragged her unwilling body down the stairs. No, that wasn't right. Her body was willing to tumble down both flights of stairs, no worries. What it didn't want to do was stay upright and walk in a wobbly, drunken fashion that seemed to be the most she was capable of doing without making any noise.

When she reached the ground, she just wanted to sort of slide down into a puddle at the bottom, but there was the matter of shoes. She crawled to the cupboard under the stairs, where all the shoes were kept, and barely pulled the door closed behind her before footsteps marched past.