Free The Wolven by Deborah LeBlanc Page A

lightning raced across the sky.
    “There’s nothing more we can do here,” Danyon said. “We should go before the storm really lets loose.”
    Shauna hadn’t thought about how she’d get home once this was over. A cab made the most sense, but they were scarce in this area, even at midday, and non-existent in the wee hours of morning, which it now was. Barataria was a good distance from the Quarter, but walking there was not an option. Just the thought of trudging across a street right now made Shauna want to collapse. She could barely put one foot in front of the other as it was.
    “My place isn’t that far from here,” Danyon said. “Much closer than yours. You’re welcome to hang out there until the storm passes. Maybe grab a shower, have something to eat while you wait.”
    Although she’d give anything for a hot shower and a cheeseburger right now, Shauna didn’t think it would be a good idea for her to go to Danyon’s. Being alone with him sounded too tempting. She wanted to say no. The rain, her exhaustion, the distance between here and her home, the convenient closeness of his place—all of it felt like one big cliché. Like the guy whose car just happens to run out of gas on a deserted road on the first date.
    Still, when he’d invited her, she’d felt something tug at her core, urging her to go. She needed to say no, had to resist—wanted to maintain control—but found herself nodding yes, instead. Albeit reluctantly.
    Food and a shower, nothing wrong with that, right? She could do both, then head home as soon as the storm let up. Easy-peasy, chillin’ cheesy.
    Shauna repeated the name of those two food groups as she followed him home.
    They walked for what felt like hours. Long enough for her mind to go numb and her body even more numb. Every once in a while, as they walked, Shauna found herself leaning against Danyon without meaning to. The moment their bodies touched, however, she’d quickly straighten, determined to keep a respectable distance between them.
    It didn’t take long for the sky to release its payload, drenching them in wet, warm sheets. Still, they walked,casually, purposely taking their time, as though the night were dry and cool.
    Before Shauna knew it, they were at the corner of Burgundy and Ursulines and standing under an awning at the back entrance to La Maison Pierre. She was familiar with the old, five-storey hotel, having gone past it a few times on her morning runs.
    Danyon tapped a code into the lock-pad near the door.
    “You live in this hotel?” she asked.
    “I own it.” He pushed the door open.
    Shauna arched a brow. La Maison Pierre—The Stone House. Interesting…
    They took a private elevator up to the fifth floor. There, Danyon led her down a short hallway to a massive, ornate wooden door, where he tapped yet another code into another lock-pad.
    He opened the door and motioned Shauna inside. “Make yourself at home.”
    Everything about the spacious, multi-room penthouse spoke of luxury. Twelve-foot ceilings with double crown molding, plush designer rugs over wide-planked wood floors, antiques from the Louis XIV era, a huge fireplace with a fluted mantel, and paintings that looked like works by Rembrandt and Van Gogh.
    “You live here alone?” Shauna asked.
    “Yes. Well, unless you count Raul. He checks in a few times a day to make sure I haven’t turned the place into a total pigsty.”
    “Raul?”
    “He’s head of housekeeping here at the hotel.”
    Danyon led her down another hallway to a large bathroom with gray and white marble floors. It had a granite double-sink vanity and shower stall, and a whirlpool tub that was big enough for six. Plush, white towels hung from a wide, wooden towel rack.
    “Feel free to freshen up, shower, whatever you need. There are a couple of clean bathrobes in the linen closet behind the door.”
    “Bathrobes, huh? You must do quite a bit of entertaining.”
    “You’d be surprised how little.” He smiled. “If