She picked up her dress and stomped down the stairs. He watched her until she'd fled around the corner, clenching his fists against the desire to go after her. Right now, he had more important matters to tend to. Satisfying his lust could wait.
He went back into the study. Martin glanced up and gave a small nod, and Duncan relaxed a little. He looked at Betise. As he'd guessed, her wounds were not as serious as they'd looked.
"Are you staying for the remainder of the night's dance or going home?"
"Going home." She arched an eyebrow, and her voice became little more than a husky whisper as she added, "Are you offering to escort me?"
He hesitated, but knew in reality he had little choice. Not if she had been attacked by the murderer. "Yes."
A smile touched her thin lips, and the smell of her desire stirred the room — but not him. Neva's scent clung to him, and it was her he wanted, not this well-used dancer who claimed to have some sort of past with him.
Her gaze switched to Martin. "Thanks, Doctor."
The old wolf nodded. "You're most welcome. Duncan, I'll talk to you later about that other matter."
He nodded. Betise raised an eyebrow as she climbed off the sofa. "Other matter?"
"Pack business," he said flatly. "Are you changing before you leave?"
Her fingers toyed with the gauzy material of her gown, drawing his gaze down her body. She was very shapely, but these days it took more than just a well endowed body to catch his interest, though Neva had captured him with little more than a wistful thought.
"I can't see the point," she said huskily. "Not when I plan to come back tomorrow night."
"Fine. Let's go." He pressed his fingers to her back, ushering her out the door. Once outside, he dropped his hand and ensured there was plenty of distance between them.
She noticed. "I won't bite," she said softly. "Not unless you want me to."
He didn't even glance at her. There was nothing about this wolf that attracted him, and nothing he wanted from her. Which was odd, given the hunger that boiled through his blood.
"I don't want you." He kept his voice harsh and flat to leave her in no doubt as to his feelings, and he felt rather than saw her gaze slide down his body. It was a touch of heat that left him itchy.
"Your body suggests otherwise," she said.
They walked past the pavilion, heading for the main gate, and he briefly wished Ripple Creek was a little closer. He had no desire to be in this wolf's company any longer than necessary. "My body does little more than react to the power of the moon. Believe me, it's not you I want."
"Neva."
She practically spat the words, and he frowned. "Neva is nothing more than another dancer I'm spending time with this moon cycle, and she certainly has nothing to do with my lack of desire for you."
They passed through the main gates and headed for the trees. He paused, allowing her to go first down the narrow path.
"You have changed your tune over the years, haven't you?" she growled. "There was a time when the opposite was true."
"You and I both know we did little more than share one dance," he bit back. "And I'd like to know what you think to gain by stating otherwise."
She glanced back at him, pale eyes gleaming with fury. "We shared more than one dance."
They hadn't. He was more positive of that than ever. But why was she so adamant that they had? "Either way, it doesn't matter. The past is something I have no wish to relive."
She snorted. "You're as bad as your bastard brother."
He smiled grimly. "Which one? I have three."
She hesitated. "René. You all make promises in the heat of moon passion, but when the sanity of the sun returns, you renege."
He very much doubted that René had made any promises. His brother enjoyed his freedom and the dance far too much. Still, at least it was one thing he could check. René didn't drink and would certainly remember what he had — and hadn't — said. "I take it that you've danced with Tye and Kane as well?"
Her voice was bitter as she all but spat, "Who hasn't?"