AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 by Caryn Moya Block Read Free Book Online Page A

world.”
    "Why did they call you in, Miss Reule, if you don't mind my asking?" Officer Hampton said.
    "Lady Ashtown found a new piece she needs authenticated. That's what I'm here to do.”
    Melisande continued her conversation with the two officers, going into details of weft threads and warp threads, dying and spinning of wool. She captivated both officers completely. Grigori would have felt left out, except Melisande kept her hand firmly in his. She would occasionally squeeze his hand or pat it when making a point.
    Grigori felt Melisande’s excitement for the job ahead, as well as her happiness, coming through the mating bond. Their telepathic link was growing stronger and stronger. Soon they would be able to speak mind to mind, as well as share memories and thoughts. Grigori feared Melisande would learn the secret of his wolf. He didn’t know how she would react.
    When the car pulled into the formal drive at Lady Ashtown’s place in the Kensington section of London, Grigori welcomed the change and the increased awareness. He was a man of action. Dealing with having a mate kept him in his head, when he needed to be concentrating on his senses and the hunt for danger. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades. Someone was watching them. He felt the malicious intent.
    As if the officers felt it as well, everyone became focused on the business of keeping Melisande safe.
    When the car stopped, Kincaid went out the door and scouted the terrain. The brick walkway led up to a small flight of stairs and the front entrance, which a liveried servant now opened. Officer Hampton exited next and moved around the car. Then Grigori stepped out of the car. He reached back in for Melisande's hand and guided her out. The three men surrounded her and ushered Melisande into the foyer of the grand hall. As the servant closed the large carved double doors, Grigori turned to Kincaid.
    "Get an officer to check the neighborhood around the house,” Grigori admonished. “Someone watched us. I felt it.”
    "I had the same feeling myself, sir. Now with you safe inside, Hampton and I will take a look around.”
    A cultured voice, pitched high enough to bring pain to the ears, came from down the hall. Grigori winced and turned to see the woman from the hotel approaching them. The statuesque brunet was not wearing her large hat, but other than that looked similar to the last time he’d seen her. She had on grey slacks and a turquoise blouse. She walked down the wooden paneled hallway with an air of supreme confidence. She was somebody, and she knew it.
    Grigori moved closer to Melisande, his arm automatically encircling her waist. He wanted to show his support and felt Meli gathering her energy to deal with her client. The officers spoke quietly to the staff member who had opened the door earlier, leaving Melisande to deal with this first encounter with Lady Ashtown.
    "Sandy, darling, you're finally here. Come tell me all about this danger that has befallen you, and who is this handsome gentleman?" Lady Ashtown asked.
    "This is Grigori Solovyov, he is . . .”
    "Her fiancé,” Grigori finished for her. He stepped forward, taking Lady Ashtown's hand. He bowed over it and placed a kiss near her knuckles.
    Melisande watched in disbelief, as Lady Ashtown blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl. Grigori oozed charm when he wanted to. Melisande glanced around the foyer and noted the wooden paneling, marble floors, and gilt-framed paintings. The Ashtowns’ London residence was a grand Victorian home that glittered with the ambiance of their lifestyle.
    "Sandy, where ever did you find him?” Lady Ashtown asked. “So Mr. Solovyov, may I call you Grigori, will you be staying in London long?"
    Grigori looked back at Melisande and winked. He allowed Lady Ashtown to take his arm and lead him deeper into the house. He delighted in the sparks in Melisande's eyes as she was forced to pick up her kit and hurry after them, her heels clicking on the hard