A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) by Selena Blake Page A

Or have you forgotten that already?”
    Maxim sighed. Hunter didn’t know how right he was. Or how deep of a shit pile Maxim was currently in. “Have fun. But not too much fun.”
    Hunter paused. “What about you?”
    Maxim frowned and thrust his hands into his pockets. This was not the conversation they needed to be having in a public corridor.
    “Will you have fun before you return to Novgorod?”
    Maxim wasn’t sure when he’d have fun again. Most days he just went through the motions. And yearned to fix his current problem. To feel whole again. He’d lost far too much in the last three months. Far too much.
    Even though he needed to rest, he left his brother standing in the hallway and headed for Charles Latham’s office. He rapped twice on the solid steel door, and three heartbeats later a petite brunette opened it. She offered him a professional smile as she waved him inside.
    “How may I help you, Mr…”
    “Ciolek. Maxim Ciolek. Is Latham in?” he asked, forgoing pleasantries. He needed to find a certain black-haired beauty. His body quaked just thinking of her and her rosy lips. He couldn’t afford to waste another minute. Wherever she was, he had to track her down.
    “I’m afraid not. But I’m sure I can help you if you tell me what you need.”
    “A woman.”
    Her eyebrows lifted.
    “We met here three months ago. A beautiful vampiress. Black hair down to here,” he supplied hopefully, pointing halfway down his biceps. He turned on his most charming smile. The woman’s expression didn’t change.
    “We can’t give out—” she started.
    Maxim held up his hand. “Look, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t truly, honestly, life or death important.”
    She frowned, sighed, and paused just long enough to make him sweat before skirting her desk.
    “S—I—E—R—R—A,” he offered, hoping he’d be able to see her room number. “She’s friends with Valencia Fabelle.” What kind of an ass knew her friend’s last name but not the woman he’d -- no, he wasn’t going there. That’d only give him a hard-on. And in his current condition, that would just drive him closer to madness.
    She typed the name and frowned a little deeper.
    “You mean, C—E—A—R—A, sir?”
    Maxim sounded out the letters in his head. Damn. “Right.” That explained everything. His search for her had been under the alternate spelling. Maxim stamped down on his frustration. The fact that Latham’s employee knew the real identity of his woman only increased his annoyance.
    Whoa there… she wasn’t his woman. She was his nemesis. His problem was all because of her. But he had to keep that to himself. For now.
    “As it happens, she’s here.”
    “Who’s here?”
    “The woman you’re looking for.” The brunette, Rosanna, according to the name plate on her desk, rolled her eyes as if Maxim was a fool. Somehow, she didn’t look like a bratty four-year-old when she did it.
    “Ceara is here?” Before his wolf could snarl at the thought of her on the pleasure island without him, Rosanna held up a hand.
    “Down, wolf, she’s here for Spa Week. Every registered guest gets a free massage.”
    The news made him feel marginally better. But the wolf still needed to see her. Which was not the plan at all. He didn’t need to get wrapped back up in something that could never be. She was a vampiress. He, a werewolf with a pack to stabilize. Despite how hungry his more primitive side was for the young beauty, this was not a social visit. He needed to ask her some very important questions.
    “What’s her room number?”
    The brunette’s left eyebrow lifted. “I’m not sure I trust you with that information.”
    Maxim hooked his hands over his hips so he wouldn’t be tempted to curl them into fists. “Why the hell not?” He wouldn’t hurt her.
    “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” She pushed a small white card and envelope across the desk with her index finger. “You make your case on that card and I’ll