Neva edged closer to him. Her hand was tense in his, and he could smell her fear as clearly as he could taste the seductive aroma of her femininity.
And while he could certainly understand her desire not to be here, right now he had no choice. Not only was it a perfect night to catch nearly the whole pack in the one place, it also provided yet another opportunity to push her that little bit farther.
He spied his father and two of his brothers near the buffet table. He swept his gaze around the room again and saw René enjoying the delights of a statuesque blonde he vaguely recognized. He smiled grimly. His brother certainly wasn't bothering to mourn the loss of a mate. But then, why would he? In the heated rush of the moon, she'd been just another face. Just another body to sate his lust on. René might have momentarily mourned her loss but, in the end, he didn't truly care. There were plenty of willing replacements to be found here in the Sinclair mansion.
A fact Duncan knew entirely too well. And one he was no longer satisfied with.
Only trouble was, he wasn't sure if there was anything else out there. Not for him, anyway.
He led the way down the steps and into the crowd. The heavy beat of the music throbbed though his veins, and the air was heavy with the rich aroma of sex.
He glanced at Neva. Though the mask covered half her face, he could see the glow of color in her cheeks. She kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead, but the smell of her arousal stung the air. She might be of the golden tribe, but she was still a wolf, and she could no more ignore the scents and sounds of those around her than he could.
His gaze slipped from her face to her body. She looked absolutely stunning in the barely-there black dress, and every step she took revealed tantalizing flashes of warm, golden skin. Her hair was a river flowing down her back, swaying like golden silk with every movement, drawing the eye to the perfection of her rear. He wasn't the only one who hungered for her — it was a feeling that followed them as they made their way through the crowded room, a sensation she would feel more acutely than he could.
And while he knew his proprietary hold on her ensured no one would approach her, she didn't. Left alone, the fear so evident in her pretty eyes would rise, and maybe, just maybe, she'd run to whoever had employed her to watch him.
He reached the far wall and found space enough to press her back into the shadows.
Heat climbed into her cheeks. "What now? You ravage me in front of your packmates to show what a big man you are?"
If he'd had the time, most definitely. He ran his hand down the long line of her neck, noting the wild flutter of her pulse under his fingertips. It wasn't fear, just as the widening of her pupils wasn't fear. Underneath the strictness of her upbringing, there was a wild wolf desperate to be free. And if what they'd shared so far was any indication of what was to come, he certainly wouldn't mind being her mate when that wildness finally asserted itself.
He leaned close, letting his lips brush hers as he said, "Is that what you want me to do?"
Her breath caught, then caressed his mouth with quick warmth. He let his hand drift down to her br**sts and gently rubbed one firm nub through the silk of her dress. She shivered, her lips parting, her breathing rapid.
He pressed himself closer, so that it seemed every inch of their bodies were molded together. He could feel her trembling, feel the heat radiating off her skin. The musky scent of her desire spun around him, the wild beat of her heart resonating through every fiber of his being.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured and brushed another kiss across her lips.
"Food," she all but gasped. "Not sex."
He grinned and pushed away. "Then food you shall have."
Surprise flitted through her eyes. Good — because the more he kept her off balance, the more likely it was that she'd make a mistake.
"Wait for me here. I have to go talk to my father, then I'll bring you back something to eat."
"Why can't I come with you?"
"Because I have pack business to discuss, and you're not of my pack. Wait here." He turned and walked away from her.
Neva crossed her arms and watched his muscular back disappear into the crowd. The urge to run after him was fierce, but she fought it. As much as she didn't want to be left alone in this place, it at least provided an opportunity to do some investigating. She swept her gaze across the room. There was a feel to the air she didn't like, a feeling that went beyond wanting, beyond lust. Was almost angry.
Not the entire room, just some sections of it, and it was a feeling she couldn't pinpoint to one person or group. Not yet, anyway.
The ballroom was smaller than the one she'd seen last night, but just as dark. There was no dance floor, just couples moving through the shadows — some talking, some making love, some doing both.
Most of the women wore outlandish costumes, the men leather pants that left little to the imagination. Chaps and a whip seemed almost tame by comparison to some of the attire in the room, but she was damn glad she'd refused to wear them. There'd been enough hunger aimed her way as Duncan led her across the room. Chaps would have only increased that hum of interest tenfold.
A small band of musicians sat in the far corner of the room, and their music was a caress of sound that raced through her veins, a sensual and erotic melody designed for one thing only — seduction.
She shook her head. The Sinclairs were certainly a hedonistic lot, but surely that wasn't a justifiable reason to be killing their mates. Especially when the women involved weren't even of the Sinclair tribe.
She blinked at the thought. Was that a clue? Could the killer be going after only those who weren't of the Sinclair pack?
It was certainly a possibility. Maybe the hatred she could feel in this room tonight wasn't aimed so much at the Sinclairs, but at the outsiders among them. Of which she was one.