A Siberian Werewolf in Paris by Caryn Moya Block Read Free Book Online

the plate away and picked up his coffee, cradling it in his palms as if to warm him self. His heart ached, and he felt cold inside. Only Josephine’s presence could warm him. He knew his sadness was going to get worse. The farther away she traveled, the poorer they both would feel.
    His shoulders slumped, and he leaned his elbows on the table, suddenly weary. His wolf begged to go after its mate, to hunt and chase. He felt his skin warming as white lights started to form around him. Valerii used his strength of will to subdue his wolf spirit , and the lights winked out. He agreed with his wolf, but shifting here would mean a death sentence. Humans could never know of the lycan race. He would catch up to his mate in Paris, and then he would never let her go.
    He lifted his head and sniffed the air, catching a familiar smell over the aroma of coffee. The scent of the men following Josephine wafted into the restaurant. Valerii rose from his chair and moved to the door. The three men he’d seen at the hospital walked up to the Eurostar ticket office. He hovered in the doorway, watching them.
    “What are you going to tell Fortescue when we get back?” the man with the scar asked. Valerii frowned, his hands fisted at his sides. Fortescue? Was that the man who was after Josephine?
    “That we lost her. How was I supposed to know she’d cut the tracking chip out of her arm?” the thin man, the one who’d shot at Joise, answered.
    “Girl’s got guts.” The fat man held the black gauge that tracked Josephine.
    “You won’t be so happy about it when we don’t get paid,” the thin man replied.
    Valerii felt his wolf rush toward the surface and feared that his form once more was beginning to shift and that his eyes glowed with an inner light. Instead of subduing his response, he grabbed the energy and used it to enhance his senses. He drew the men’s smell into his lungs so he would always know them. The fat man smelled of garlic and tomato sauce, while the thin man smelled angry, an acidic scent that burned Valerii’s nose. He watched as the thin man pulled cash from his wallet to pay for the tickets. Valerii could make out a name on the driver’s license in the front—Jorge Sanxay. He could hear each breath the men took, and the sound of their heartbeats echoed in his ears. When the men finished paying, they turned to walk to the customs area. Valerii reached out with his telepathy and slipped into Sanxay’s mind, placing a suggestion in his thoughts.
    “Go get in line, I’ll be right with you,” Sanxay said as he paused outside the men’s water closet.
    The two other men walked away. Valerii followed Sanxay into the toilet.
    Valerii walked into the small room, his senses wide -open, gathering information. He and Sanxay were alone in the space. Valerii turned and locked the door behind him. Sanxay finished using the urinal and turned toward the sinks. Valerii’s fist smashed into Sanxay’s nose, and Sanxay went down with a yell of surprise. Valerii was on him in an instant. Holding him by the throat, Valerii sent his mind plunging into Sanxay’s.
    Valerii rushed through Sanxay’s memories of the night of Josie’s kidnapping. How Sanxay had drugged her and fondled her breasts while she was unconscious. How he’d been tempted to rape the young girl. But Dr. Boucher had demanded that Josephine Chevalier be delivered to the lab outside of Paris, unharmed.
    Valerii growled in rage, his fist tightening on Sanxay’s throat. He rushed forward through Sanxay’s memories and saw a new person wanting to retrieve Josephine. This man was younger, his eyes sad—Norris Fortescue. He, too, had demanded that Josephine be unharmed. So why did Sanxay shoot at her? Moving deeper into the man’s psyche, Valerii suddenly understood. Sanxay liked pain. To him, unharmed meant alive and nothing more.
    Valerii came back into his own mind and heard sounds of Sanxay choking, his face starting to turn blue. Valerii was tempted to