Four Weddings and a Werewolf

Chapter Twenty-Three

Naked and tangled in satin sheets, Veronica nestled into Logan’s embrace. Caught in the crook between his chest and his arm, she could hear his heartbeat clearly, its gentle thump-thump beating against her cheek.

“It calls for you, you know,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

She smiled and nuzzled into him. “I’m happy. Just like this.”

“Me, too. But we should probably get back to the reception. They’ll be wondering where we are.”

As she looked up and kissed him, her stomach rumbled. “Oh God,” she moaned, holding her middle. “I’m so hungry.”

“Let’s go downstairs and grab something to eat.” Logan laughed softly, his chest rising and falling beneath her. “And let’s hope the pack hasn’t devoured the last of the cake.”

“Isn’t there anything in here? Cheese? Crackers?”

“I don’t think so, but if you’re really that hungry I could knock over the vending machine down the hall,” he joked.

“I was too busy trying to think of what I wanted to say for my speech to eat dinner. I feel like I’m starving and cake’s not going to cut it.”

“We’ll raid the kitchen if we have to.” Logan slid his arm from beneath her and rose from the bed, buck naked. Suddenly, thoughts of food evaporated from Veronica’s mind.

“Can you call room service to bring something up while I shower? I wanted to wash up before rejoining the party,” she said, struggling to find the words to explain how she was feeling. “This is going to sound crazy, but there’s a scent that I need to wash off otherwise everyone will know what we’ve been doing.”

Smirking, Logan leaned over the bed and kissed her. “I may have marked you with my scent while we were making love. I’ve gotten the urge to mark you each time, but this time it was more difficult for me to hold back.”

“What are you saying? We’re bonded?”

“No, there’s more to the bonding process than that—a ritual with words we speak during lovemaking.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Basically, the scent you’re picking up is for other wolves to know that you’re taken. By me.” He rubbed his cheek against hers, breathing her in, and then moved down to her neck. “I think you smell like peaches.”

Veronica smacked him, and when her stomach rumbled again, she could’ve sworn her stomach lining melted away.

“You shower, I’ll have food brought up,” he said, and picked up his cell phone from the bedside table.

Didn’t need to say it twice. Veronica strode into the bathroom and adjusted the temperature of the shower’s spray.

“Problem,” Logan called from the bedroom a few minutes later. “Carter’s the only one who answered his phone and he’s already on his way up to his suite.”

“Can’t you order room service?”

“You think I’m going to trust waitstaff to bring you food? Not happening tonight. Bright side is, Carter offered to guard the door while I head down to grab you leftovers. I’ll be back with food before you’re out and it’ll save time.”

“Sounds good.” Veronica’s stomach answered with a sharp pang. She wrapped a towel around her head so she didn’t mess up her hair, and stepped into the shower.

“Carter should be here any second,” Logan said from somewhere in the other room. “While we’re waiting, I’m going to call a few other members of the security team. Carter can handle himself, but you never know. That guy is still here somewhere.”

“Don’t remind me.” She soaped up, careful not to drench the towel on her head.

“I’ll be back before you’re out,” he said, and left the suite.

…

“Don’t let anyone in or out,” Logan told Carter as he stood in front of the door. “I mean anyone. Remember what I said about the stalker?”

“Right. He’s one of ours.” Carter nodded, his jaw going tight. “I thought you would’ve had him handled by now.”

“I would’ve,” Logan said, “but he’s been waiting to make his move tonight, which is why it’s imperative if you see anyone from our pack come down this hall, you call me immediately.”

“Will do.”

“I called up another two members of the security team,” Logan said, standing with his back against the wall. “They’re already on their way up.”

A few seconds passed, and Carter checked his watch. “You could’ve been back by now.”

“Damn it.” Logan twitched. “I know.”

As the elevator door dinged, Logan bolted down the hall, his boots striking the floor like anvils. Two of the security team members exited and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Down that way,” Logan said, pointing. “Carter’s already there.”

They nodded once more, then made their way down the hall.

Veronica would be safe with the three of them standing guard outside her door. Still, he needed to grab and dash. As the elevator doors opened, Logan was bombarded by noise. Music, laughter, glasses clinking, and arguments starting near the bar. It was a riot…a loosely controlled one. Everyone seemed to be smiling and having a great time, stomping and clapping in the “Cha-Cha Slide.” Leah and Jake were nowhere to be found. They must’ve been enjoying their time as husband and wife.

Logan tried to search the crowd for someone who didn’t belong. Anyone who struck him as someone looking to stir up trouble.

Nothing.

No time to waste, he hugged the back wall and strode around tables until he came to the dinner spread on a long, rectangular table at the back of the room. Fully made plates were arranged on one side of the table, with cake plates on the other side. Using a fork, Logan slid food from one plate to another, so that there was an overflowing mound of chicken, potatoes and veggies. He did that a second time, stacking the empty plates on each other.

Just to be sure three helpings would suffice, Logan added another couple bread rolls.

Time to get back to his woman.

His woman.

Grinning at the thought, Logan spun around and knocked into a packmate who was rushing past to grab seconds. The food splattered against Logan’s chest, drenching him in a sticky, reddish juice. The plates hit the floor.

“Sorry, dude,” the packmate said, helping him brush off a chunk of broccoli. “Didn’t think you’d spin around so fast.”

Logan sighed, struggling to keep his frustration on lockdown so it wouldn’t flip to anger. “It’s all right. I got it. Just go.”

The packmate took off toward his table with a new plate, while Logan tried to brush off what he could. He stunk to high heaven. Like greasy chicken and garlic sauce. His wiped off his hands, used a bunch of napkins to dab the mess, then went to work remaking Veronica her late-night snack.

Thanks to the spill—and another few minutes trying to get away from an old woman who insisted he looked just like her nephew—Logan stepped off the elevator ten minutes later than he’d planned to.

He hit the floor nearly running. And stopped when a pair of boots sticking out from a foyer down the way caught his eye.

Carter.

Veronica.

He dropped the plates and charged down the hall, heart in his throat. Carter was unconscious, though there were no visible wounds. Logan peeled back his eyelids and checked his pulse.

Alive.

“Veronica?” Logan hollered, then pushed open the door to the suite. “Veronica, are you in here?”

No answer.

The unmistakable scent of something zesty, or fiery Mexican food, stung his nose. It was the same smell he’d picked up when he met Veronica’s pastor friend, Patrick.

He’d been here.

But Pastor Patrick Bennett couldn’t have been a wolf—he didn’t give off the scent, first of all. Secondly, there were hundreds of wolves living in Seattle. Patrick had to have lived like a damned monk not to be recognized by someone at the wedding. Maybe anonymity had been his plan all along…

Logan chastised himself for not following his instincts. He didn’t like that guy from the second he met him.

Rage shook Logan’s bones and boiled the blood in his veins. His legs twitched with unbridled power.

Where would Patrick take her? His private suite? There had to be hundreds of condos and suites in the tower. How long would it take to track down Veronica’s scent? Ten? Twenty minutes? That’d be too late.

“Roof,” Carter mumbled from the floor.

Logan bent. “He took her to the roof?”

Nodding, Carter roused and got to his knees. “Sorry, man. No one expects a preacher to pull a fucking Taser out of his pocket.”

“What happened to the other guys?” Logan asked.

Carted swallowed hard. “Wrong group. They were on order from Alpha. They guard his daughter on the other side of the building.” He pointed down the hall. “Your guys were probably getting drinks before heading up.”

Shit.

“I’ll call for help,” Logan said.

“No, I’ll get help.” Carter swallowed hard and brushed himself off. “You get the girl.”

“Damn right.”