Fires Of Solstice Part 22

She pursed her lips and started to draw circles in the condensation on her mug, her thoughts obvious. Bleddyn swallowed more beer. He knew she was frustrated with his answers. He hadn't told her anything she hadn't or couldn't find out for herself. And she didn't believe him. She wanted to know how much he really knew. He was an expert on wolves. Werewolves should be a kind of sideline.

"Bleddyn Glyndwr knows more about werewolves than any other man in the country," rasped a hoa.r.s.e voice.

Beer sloshed from Meredythe's mug when it slipped from her fingers and thumped to the table. Silence eddied away from their table as conversations halted and the other diners turned their attention to the gaunt man who hovered at the end of the booth as if to block their escape.

Meredythe leaned closer, only to jerk back as tears welled in her eyes. The foul odor oozing from him chased her as far back into the corner of the booth as she could get. Gagging from his stench, her hands automatically dug into her purse for her pen and notebook. She glanced up. The man was staring intently at Bleddyn.

Scraggly salt-and-pepper whiskers shadowed the lean hollows of his cheeks while stringy clumps of gray hair hung limply about his face and shoulders. An old suit of indiscriminate brown hung from his lanky body. Both hands were fisted and shaking, as if he were struggling to keep them at his sides. From his eyes glowed the light of fanaticism.

s.h.i.+vering, Meredythe grabbed her beer and gulped. Twice she'd interviewed people frantic for a cause. One had ended up committing suicide and the other had murdered her family. She'd arrived at the scene before the bodies had been covered. The lifeless eyes of a little blonde-headed girl flashed through her mind.

Bleddyn's low voice pulled her back from the horror of that particular day. "Meredythe?"

Once he had her attention, he said, "Excuse me a minute while I take care of this."

When he pushed himself out of the booth, the other man was forced to step back. Meredythe let go of the breath she was holding. Still, she had to breathe through her mouth. She gripped her pen and waited. Bleddyn had placed himself squarely in front of the other man, blocking Meredythe's view. How could the stench not bother him?

"I told you to stay away from me, Anderson," he said in a low voice as she recorded their conversation.

Meredythe turned in her seat and leaned to the side, trying to see around Bleddyn.

"Master," the older man hissed back, his tone feral, "you could rule the world. You have only to take and all will be yours. I live to serve you, as do others."

Rule the world. Bleddyn? She wrote faster.

Bleddyn crossed his arms over his chest. "You're a mad fool, Anderson. I'm a doctor of zoology whose expertise is the study of wolves, nothing more."

The other man's gaze s.h.i.+fted around Bleddyn to Meredythe then back to Bleddyn. He nodded with what seemed to be approval. "You have chosen your mate. Good. We will wors.h.i.+p her as queen."

Meredythe's pen scratched a zigzag line to the bottom of the tablet as she jerked her head up. His mate? Her gaze snapped from the old man to Bleddyn's back. She blinked once, shook her head, then blinked again. Was the room getting darker? Or was Anderson's disgusting smell affecting her vision?

Bleddyn stood, body stiff, hands clenched at his sides. Since his sleeves were pushed up, she could see the muscles tensed, veins bulging in his forearms. A misty aura seemed to surround him. Where did it come from? She blinked again. That guy's stench was really beginning to affect her vision.

She s.h.i.+fted her gaze back to Anderson. A feral light blazed in his eyes as he eagerly licked his lips. His body was taut. He seemed to be waiting for something. What?

Her gaze returned to Bleddyn's back. If only she could see his face!

Bleddyn closed his eyes, struggling to control his temper. Anderson had seen Meredythe, referred to her as his mate. The old man was crazy, crazy enough to try something. If he so much as touched her...

Visions of Anderson restraining Meredythe raced through his mind and his control began to slip. Silver and black mist appeared before his eyes. His vision became unfocused. The primitive beast in his soul roared.

Crus.h.!.+ Maim! Kill! My woman, my mate. Mine!

A dark mist began to form.

"I told you to stay out of my restaurant, Morton Anderson!" Penny O'Calahan snapped. She jerked to a halt when she got close enough for his noxious odor to envelop her. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," she gagged as she crossed herself. "You're smelling like someone three weeks dead and buried. "You'll be chasing all my customers away. Get out! Zachary, call the sheriff."

"I'm already here, Penny," said a bulky, broad-shouldered man dressed in gray. "I was hoping to get some supper. Rose has her book club tonight, you know," he added with a grin.

"Just be smelling him, Hank," she snapped through the ap.r.o.n she held up to her nose and mouth. "He's ruining my business, he is."

"This is a public restaurant," the lanky man snarled. "I have as much right to be here as anyone else."

"Not smelling like the grave, you don't," Penny snapped. "You've no right to be coming in and hara.s.sing my customers about full moons and werewolves and Dr. Bleddyn. If anybody'd be asking me, you should be locked up in a madhouse. It's where you belong, what with your howling at the moon once a month and all."

Taking a deep breath, the sheriff stepped closer to Anderson and grabbed his arm. "Do you want to lodge a complaint, Penny?"

"I certainly do."

"Sorry, Anderson. You have to go."

The older man swung his glare to Bleddyn. "Put these humans in their place, Master. How can you allow them to treat me like this?"

Slowly Bleddyn unclenched his fists and forced himself to relax. His vision cleared. Thank G.o.d for Penny. If she hadn't come in...

The beast was getting stronger. The full moon was too close for him to lose control of his temper. But just the thought of Anderson getting his hands on Meredythe...

Bleddyn shuddered mentally and fought back another surge of darkness. After taking a deep breath, he said, "He's getting worse, Hank. I can't come into town without being hara.s.sed."

The sheriff nodded. "Stop in my office tomorrow and swear out a complaint. I'll take care of everything."

Anderson tried to tug free. Glaring at Bleddyn, he snarled, "Fool. You could have everything. The full moon offers you power. Do not deny her." He turned his maniacal gaze to Meredythe. "Demand that he accept his destiny. He will make you a queen among women. Tomorrow, bring him to me. During the ceremony, all will be revealed."

The sheriff hauled Anderson across the dining room. "Come on. Stop bothering these people."

"Do not deny your heritage, Bleddyn Glyndwr. Destiny awaits you," he howled as the sheriff dragged him through the door.

"Humph!" Penny snorted, waving her ap.r.o.n to clear the stench. "It's time he was locked away, what with his raving and all. It's a wonder he hasn't murdered somebody in their bed yet."

Bleddyn forced a grin onto his face. "Now, Penny."

"Don't you be now Pennying me, Bleddyn Glyndwr. The man's a menace and you know it. And your meals are on the house tonight. I'll not be taking your money, so don'

t be trying to sweet-talk me."

Spinning on her heel, she bustled into the kitchen.

Meredythe stared at him, her pen poised. "What was that all about?"

Bleddyn slid back into the booth, picked up his beer and chugged it down. Raising his hand, he signaled for the waitress. "Another beer and a gla.s.s of water, please. Would you like another drink, Meredythe?"

"No, I'm fine. Who was that," she repeated, "and what was he ranting about?"

Bleddyn grimaced. Why did Anderson have to be in town tonight? "That was Morton Anderson. He thinks he's a werewolf."

Meredythe leaned forward. "Really? What did he mean about you accepting your destiny?" She flipped to a clean page in her tablet.

Bleddyn cursed to himself. If he'd have known Anderson was in town, he'd never have brought Meredythe with him. A quick glance across the table confirmed his fears. She was entirely too curious about the old fool. Normally Anderson wasn't a danger. All he had to do was avoid the fool. But Meredythe's eyes were sparkling and he could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. If he didn't answer her questions to her satisfaction, she'd go looking for Anderson. And if the old man got his hands on her, who knew what he'd do. Bleddyn focused his gaze on Meredythe's face. Her pen was poised, ready to write. Well, he could always tell the truth... sort of. Her reaction would be interesting.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm a werewolf."

The disgusted glance she shot his way told him how much she believed him. Well, he'd tried to tell the truth.

"Now stop your fooling, Bleddyn Glyndwr," scolded Penny as she set their dinners and an aromatic candle on the table. "Don't be scaring the girl with that fool's delusions."

"If Anderson had any sense," Bleddyn mumbled into his beer mug, "he'd be afraid of Meredythe."

Meredythe stared at the older woman. "Delusions?"

Bleddyn grinned. "Anderson is convinced that since I have wolves, I must be a werewolf."

She picked up her pen. "You're kidding."

"No, he's not," interrupted Penny. "That crazy old man has been chasing after Bleddyn for the last year and a half. Ever since Anderson moved to Winterbourne and bought the old Van Hocken place, he's been badgering Bleddyn to come out to the farm on the night of the full moon to take part in his heathen ceremonies."

"d.a.m.n it, woman, quit your gossiping and get back to your kitchen," her husband bellowed from the bar.

"Don't you be telling me what to do, you sorry excuse for a bartender! You've three thirsty men sitting with empty gla.s.ses at the other end," she snapped back. But she did disappear back into her kitchen.

Bleddyn lifted his fork. "They're quite a pair."

Meredythe was not distracted.

"This Morton Anderson really thinks he's a werewolf? What kind of ceremony is he talking about?"

Bleddyn concentrated on his food. "I've never gone to one, so I haven't got the faintest idea."

She looked up from her tablet. "You aren't even curious?"

He glanced up. "And lend credence to his delusions that I'm a werewolf?"

Meredythe furrowed her brow. Bleddyn had a point there. This man, Anderson, obviously had mental problems of some kind. She scooped some food onto her fork and shoved it into her mouth, contemplating what she'd learned about Morton Anderson as she chewed. He owned a farm. He could have all kinds of animals there.

"Does he have a wolf?"

Bleddyn stopped eating. "I certainly hope not! Who knows what he'd do to it."

Meredythe jabbed a chunk of meat with her fork. Morton Anderson didn't seem like the kind of guy who was especially kind to animals. And Bleddyn would never allow any wolf, or a wolf-dog, to be hurt-not if he could help it. That was one thing she was sure of. He'd steal the animal if that would be the only way to get it away safely.

She chewed slowly. But what if Anderson had a wolf or wolf-dog and Bleddyn didn' t know it? Anderson could be her killer-or maybe one of a group. Penny said he held ceremonies on the nights when there was a full moon.

"Does he travel a lot?"

Bleddyn b.u.t.tered a roll. "Who?"

"Anderson."

He shrugged. "How should I know? I stay as far away from the man as I can."

Meredythe scooped another forkful of food into her mouth, her mind dissecting everything she'd seen and heard.

Morton Anderson thought Bleddyn was a werewolf. He held ceremonies on the night of a full moon. There was really only one way to find out what she needed to know. She needed to talk to Morton Anderson.

Glancing at Bleddyn, she discovered he'd finished eating. He was relaxed in the corner, one arm draped along the top of the booth's back, staring at her with a strange expression on his face, an expression that was... tender.

Her muscles relaxed and she smiled, a feeling of warmth settling around her body. He was such a s.e.xy man. Her mind drifted back to that afternoon when she stood with her cheek pressed against his soft chest hairs. His nipple had been so close. She'd had to stop herself from licking it.

"Do you want dessert?"

She blinked. "What?"

He smiled sensuously. "Do you want dessert? Penny's chocolate cheesecake is positively decadent."

She stared at him. Not as decadent as your skin. I'd rather nibble on that. A s.h.i.+ver danced down her spine. Meredythe, get a hold of yourself! "No thanks. I've had plenty, but please, order some for yourself if you want."

A smile tickled the corners of his lips. "What I want isn't on the menu."

Another s.h.i.+ver raced up Meredythe's spine as he flared his nostrils. His mouth and tongue on her body, sucking her nipples, nibbling down over her stomach, lapping her c.u.n.t. Her nipples tightened, sending a sharp stab of desire straight to her groin. How was he able to reduce her to a pile of quivering Jell-O with just a look? How was she ever going to get any work done? Work. She glanced down. Her open tablet lay before her. Morton Anderson's name leaped from the page.

Concentrate Meredythe. You're here to do a story, not be seduced by the s.e.xiest man you've ever seen. "I need to interview him."

Bleddyn stretched his other arm along the back of the booth. His s.h.i.+rt pulled taut over his chest. "Who?"

Meredythe swallowed then wet her lips. "Morton Anderson."

The soft mist in his gray eyes turned to steel. His arms fell to his sides and he leaned forward. "I forbid you to go anywhere near him."

The seductive web he'd been weaving around her snapped. She stiffened. Her chin came up and her nostrils flared. Her voice was low and tight. "I beg your pardon!"

He growled his answer, low and dangerous. "You heard me, Meredythe. I forbid you to go near Morton Anderson. He's a dangerous man. You have no idea what could happen to you."

Shoving her tablet and pen into her purse, she grabbed it and pushed herself out of the booth. Tugging her purse strap over her shoulder, she glared down at him.

When he tried to push out of the booth, she planted her palm on his chest and shoved him back down.

"What gives you the right to dictate to me, Dr. Bleddyn Glyndwr?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "I am not your servant, wife or employee, and I don't need your permission to do anything. I am here in pursuit of a story and I have every right to interview whomever I d.a.m.n well please, whenever I d.a.m.n well please, whether you like it or not."

Spinning on her heel, she stomped out of the dining room.

"f.u.c.k," Bleddyn muttered, shoving himself out of the booth and hurrying after her. He grabbed his coat-and Meredythe's-from the rack just inside the door and followed her out into the night.

Meredythe stomped down the street, muttering to herself.

"Forbids! He forbids me! Who the h.e.l.l does he think he is, telling me what I can and can't do? n.o.body tells me who I can and can't interview-n.o.body. And Dr. Bleddyn Glyndwr is not going to tell me how to do my job no matter how s.e.xy he is."

She stopped and stamped her foot. "s.h.i.+t, Meredythe. Is that all you can think about -his body? What's wrong with you? You've never let a man get to you before, and this one won't either. It doesn't matter how cute his a.s.s is. He could be a murderer."

Yeah, her mind whispered insidiously, and you're an international arms dealer.