Lover Beware

to work with a werewolf?”
     
    BY THE TIME Rule turned around, he was fairly sure he had his reaction to her scent under control. Or at least concealed. His heart was thudding against the wall of his chest like Thumper introducing himself to Bambi.
    I can’t possibly know. Not for sure. Yet her scent… Fear and exaltation filled him. He studied the face of the woman he’d never believed he would meet.
    Something in the smoothness of her face, the sleek roundness of her body, appealed to him. Her eyes were as black as the braid that hung down her back. And greatly irritated at the moment. She would move well, he thought, and wanted to see her move.
    There wasn’t a great deal of Lily Yu physically, but he had the sense that quite a lot of person had been packed into that trim, tidy form. She wore plain black slacks and a jacket the color of the poppies that dotted the hills in the spring. He smelled the metal-and-gunpowder odor of the gun concealed by that jacket.
    No fear scent, though. That intrigued him. Even Delgado gave out a whiff of fear in his presence, though he controlled it admirably. That, and the fact that she’d risen to detective at such a young age, told him the dainty packaging was misleading. A man who didn’t look beyond that packaging might mistake her for doll-like. He wondered if any had been foolish enough to say so—and if they’d drawn back a stub.
    Metaphorically speaking, of course. Humans didn’t respond so vigorously to insult. “Obviously you recognize me,” he said.
    “Detective,” Delgado snapped. “Your captain assured me you didn’t suffer from racial prejudices.”
    “Sorry, sir.” Those pretty black eyes slid from her chief to Rule. “My apologies, Mr. Turner. The old-fashioned term slipped out. Or should I say ‘Your Highness’?”
    “My title is used only among the clans and by journalists. Strictly speaking, it doesn’t translate as prince. That is merely the closest approximation.” Her skin was ivory—not the bland pallor of one who avoids the sun, but a dense, saturated color. She smelled wonderful, very female, the muskiness of her skin faintly overlaid with soap. No perfume.
    He smiled slowly. He hated perfume. “You may call me Rule. I would like it if you did.”
    Delgado cleared his throat. He looked irritated, which Rule understood. This was his territory, and they were ignoring that. “Detective Yu,” he said firmly, “this is Rule Turner, prince of Clan Nokolai. Mr. Turner, Detective Lily Yu.”
    “Mr. Turner,” she said with a curt nod.
    That put him in his place, didn’t it? His smile widened.
    Delgado was speaking. “Mr. Turner spoke with the mayor last night. He offered his expertise. Obviously he has an intimate knowledge of lupus culture and, ah, habits. He will cooperate fully with you.”
    “Pardon me, sir, but I’m unsure exactly what that means.”
    Delgado’s eyes flickered to Rule. Knowing the man’s discomfort, Rule took the burden of explanation from him. “Initially, at least, it means we must visit the morgue. I need to smell the corpse.”

Chapter 3
    LILY LEFT THE chief’s office fifteen minutes later, confused and irritated. Now she knew why the autopsy had been held up, though.
    Maybe Rule Turner could identify the killer from the scent he’d left on his victim’s body. Maybe not. She couldn’t take his word at face value. People lied. They did it all the time, to protect small hurts or embarrassments as well as for more serious reasons. But if he claimed to identify the killer, that would be information, whether it was true or a lie.
    She had to figure out his goal, what he had to gain by helping them investigate. Lupi weren’t exactly civic-minded about cooperating with the police. Of course, Rule Turner was politically active on behalf of his people, something of a spokesman. Not to mention a favorite of the gossip mags.
    He was also a civilian. Lily did not like working with civilians, but she could concede the necessity at times. Her confusion had little to do with her professional irritation.
    Those eyes…she’d never heard that it was dangerous to look into a werewolf’s eyes. But there was a great deal she didn’t know about them, wasn’t there?
    The man beside her kept pace silently. At least, she supposed that was the right word for him. Could you be a man without being human? Never mind, she told herself, moving briskly. The courts had ruled that lupi had the same rights and obligations as