Neva frowned. That made no sense — not if they were soul mates. "You've talked to him recently?"
"No." Betise hesitated and raised a sculptured eyebrow. "But I might try this phase, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead," she said. Even though the insane part of her did mind. Very much.
The older wolf stopped next to the three-tiered fountain and scooped up a handful of water. She took a sip then splashed the remainder across her br**sts. "How's your sister?" she asked, after a moment.
"Slowly recovering. I think she'll probably wake in the next day or so."
Betise nodded. "Must have been a big wolf who attacked her."
Memories rose — quick snapshots of broad shoulders, long legs, big teeth. Teeth that had torn so very deep. Neva shuddered and forced them away. She didn't want to relive Savannah's assault. Not ever.
"Extremely big," she somehow managed to say.
"I was surprised you decided to come here to the mansion when your sister is so ill in the hospital."
Neva scooped up some cool water, sipping at it slowly as she tried to think of a plausible answer. "The day before she was attacked, Sav and I were discussing the things we wanted to do before we die." She hesitated. "I guess her accident brought home just how close death really is, and how little I've done with my life."
"And a moon dance was on top of your list of things to experience?"
Right alongside sprouting wings and flying to the moon. "Yeah, but one night, not five."
Betise chuckled. "At least you're with Duncan. He's one of the best lovers you'll find here at the mansion."
But only when he wanted to be, Neva thought sourly. She forced a smile. "Sounds like you've had a dance or two with a few of the Sinclairs."
Betise's smile was almost wistful. "You could say that."
"And that gorgeous specimen I saw you dancing with a few minutes ago?"
The older wolf's smile faded, and her face became hard again. "That was René, one of Duncan's older brothers."
"I take it things aren't going well between you?" And why was she dancing with René if Duncan was her soul mate? None of this was making any sense.
"No." Betise's reply was short. Sharp. "He's just as bad as the rest of them. They all make promises in the heat of the moment but never — " She bit off the words and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I don't mean to go on."
Neva wished she would. She had a feeling she'd learn a whole lot more that way. "I totally understand, believe me. Duncan hasn't exactly been a picture of politeness in the day I've known him."
Betise grunted softly. "It's a wonder someone isn't killing Zeke's get, rather than just their lovers."
Bingo, Neva thought. Nothing in any of Savannah's reports had indicated the victims had been anything more than casual dancers. She ducked her gaze away, taking another sip of water as she tried to calm her racing heart. "So it's their mates being targeted?"
Betise hesitated. "So rumor has it."
At least it gave her a lead she could follow. While she couldn't risk talking to Duncan's brothers, she could certainly track down their mates and talk to them. "Did you know any of them?"
Betise shook her head. "Though I may have met them here, the masks make it difficult to say."
Neither of them seemed to have had any trouble recognizing each other, even with the masks on. But Betise had always been a loner at heart and tended to keep to herself. It was probably why her hair salon wasn't doing as well as it should. Most women went to a hairdresser's to relax and chat. Betise wasn't inclined to allow either.
"Aren't you worried that you might be in danger?"
The older wolf's smile was bleak. "No. From what I've heard, the victims were more permanent mates rather than casual dancers."
"Why haven't you gone to the rangers with this information?"
"With little more than a rumor? I doubt it would be appreciated — by the rangers or the Sinclairs."