Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Then I make another break for it. I dart behind a group with a crying child and yelling parent, then slip around a corner in a thankfully empty hall, running everyone ragged until I’ve lost them. I manage to reach the first-floor men’s bathroom of the old 1920’s building, where Esme told me she left my clothes.
Esme’s scent is here, faint, on the artsy museum bag that she stashed in the out-of-order stall. I shift to human form, shaking off the tingles, so I can dress quickly. I exit the stall and force open the window, just wide enough for a big dog to leap out of. Then I exit the bathroom with the museum bag slung over my shoulder.
The whole museum smells like human sweat and stress. I keep my features neutral and walk up to a museum attendant obviously on the lookout for a giant dog to come tearing by.
“What’s going on?” I sign while I speak.
The attendant shifts their focus to me, turning to face me fully when they realize that I’m deaf. “A dog got in here. It’s big.” They mime. “Have you seen it?”
I tell them no and take my leave, heading to the museum exit. Every human I pass is on high alert, either looking for a dog or talking excitedly about it and showing their friends footage on their phone. This event will be all over social media, but I bet the museum pulls strings to keep it hushed up in the official news media. Especially once they discover the tiara is missing.
I can’t keep a smirk off my face as I stroll out the front door. It all went perfectly to plan.
I’ll meet Esme tonight at our favorite coffee shop and get the tiara then. At that point, I’ll have to figure out what to do with it. Esme might have some ideas.
One thing’s for sure, the Adalwulfs will have to find another powerful gemstone to power their ceremony.
Aster
I’m seated by the fire in my suite’s sitting room, trying to meditate, when I hear a roll of psychic thunder.
It’s my only warning before the heavy wooden doors burst open, and Aiden storms in, with a wave of power that hits me like a tsunami.
“What did you do?” he growls. His alpha tone makes me want to bare my throat.
I tilt my chin slightly, averting my gaze, but keep my face impassive. Times like these, I remember how Oma used to let the alpha temper roll over her, never cowering. She didn’t react. She was like a weathered stone standing upright and unmoved through a raging storm.
She also never answered a direct question. Instead, she asked her own.
“What has happened?” I ask, keeping my voice low and melodic. I project an aura of calm.
It helps that I was obviously meditating. I’m sitting on a cushion on the floor, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosemary, the herbs I threw on the fire to break up the oppressive stuffiness of the room. The Adalwulf’s city mansion is beautiful, full of art and antiques, but needs a good cleaning. I don’t think the windows have been opened since the place was built in the Gilded Age.
With the herbs and velvet pouch of ancient bones in front of me, I look like a Seeress plying my craft, and feel less like an employee caught slacking off by their asshole boss.
“The Tiara of Ix-Chel. It’s gone missing.” Aiden paces the ancient Oriental rug, growling under his breath. He’s dressed for work in one of his well-tailored gray suits.
“Missing?” I echo. It’s a ploy to get more information, and it works.
“Houserman just called. Apparently someone broke in earlier today and took it, and he waited until now to break the news. I was on my way to purchase it.” His lip curls, and I feel a moment of pity for Dr. Houserman, having to disappoint Aiden. No wonder he waited until the last possible minute.
“He suspects us.”
“Us? Why would we steal it? We were going to purchase it.”
“That’s exactly what I told him.” Aiden stomps around the room, sneering at gilt framed oil paintings and Tiffany lamps alike. “In fact, I would’ve taken possession of it immediately after you confirmed its power had I known the museum was going to completely bungle its security and allow it to be stolen.” He marches around a Louis XIV era armchair to stand over me, glowering. “You didn’t have any vision, any premonition that it would be taken?”
“No,” I say clearly because it’s not a lie. “When I have a vision that would help the pack, I share it.” I’m still telling the truth. I just refuse to share any visions that lead us to war. Or put a spotlight on the man who held me in the elevator.
“Would you?” Aiden asks in a soft tone. Danger, my intuition blares. “Otto tells me you were reluctant to expose yourself to its power again. If I find out you had anything to do with this…”