Werewolf in the North Woods Read Free

attempt to find Bigfoot, and a canine creature wouldn’t interest her.
    Roarke made sure the woman was gone before he loped back through the formal gardens and headed for the tunnel entrance into the mansion. Whoever had devised this entrance had been a werewolf genius. A fake piece of granite swiveled at the touch of a paw, allowing Roarke to enter a tunnel.
    Once inside the tunnel, Roarke took the branch that led to a stone stairway. Bounding up those steps, he nudged open a revolving panel and was standing in his guest room. All the bedrooms had the same arrangement, which allowed Weres to enter and leave without having to navigate doors and locks.
    Stretching out on the bedroom’s antique Aubusson rug, Roarke shifted to human form before hitting the shower. In moments he was downstairs for the breakfast being served buffet-style in the immense dining hall.
    Cameron, the pack alpha, was the only member of the Gentry family sitting at the table. A slim man who was beginning to gray at the temples, he looked every inch the aristocrat. As a wolf, though, he had more trouble looking noble. Most Weres were powerfully built with luxurious coats, but Cameron shifted into a scrawny wolf with dull gray fur and a furtive look in his brown eyes.
    Come to think of it, he had a furtive look as a human, too. The way he lingered over his coffee and darted glances at Roarke suggested he’d stayed in the dining room in order to give his guest the third degree. Roarke wished Cameron good morning and headed for the sideboard loaded with food. He was starving.
    “The surveillance cameras picked you up this morning,” Cameron said. “Find anything?”
    “Unfortunately, no.” Roarke considered telling Cameron about the woman and decided against it. Cameron was already paranoid about the overlook and seemed willing to do almost anything to get his hands on that property and eliminate the potential security risk.
    That was one of the reasons Roarke was here—to make Earl Dooley look like a fool in hopes that he’d decide to sell out and leave town. In the Were community, Roarke was an expert on megafauna cryptids such as Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, but in his university career he was known as a prominent myth buster. The good people of Portland would take his word that Earl’s sighting was bogus.
    It hadn’t been, of course, and Roarke had also agreed to quietly track down the Sasquatch mated pair and relocate them out of Were territory. Gentry didn’t fancy having Bigfoot seekers tramping around the countryside anywhere near his estate. More people increased the likelihood that someone would accidentally learn that werewolves lived here.
    Roarke hadn’t warmed to Cameron, unfortunately. The Were had a ruthless streak, a dangerous trait in a pack alpha. But he was now the guy in charge, having taken over from his father, Gerald. Gerald and his mate, Tabitha, had moved up to Alaska, where Gerald could indulge in his fishing hobby.
    Roarke thought Gerald would have been a whole lot easier to deal with than Cameron. Now that Roarke understood his host’s lack of empathy, he planned to make sure that the Sasquatch pair was relocated far away from Cameron Gentry.
    Roarke respected the Sasquatch tribe and wanted these two moved to safety without incident. He was afraid Cameron just wanted them gone and would choose the most expedient method. Roarke wasn’t about to have Sasquatch blood on his conscience.
    Cameron drained his coffee cup and stood, shoving back his chair. It moved smoothly on the polished oak floor. “You’re at the Rotary Club today, right?”
    “Right.” Roarke found the lectures increasingly difficult to give. When Cameron had called asking for his help, he’d thought busting the myth of Bigfoot wouldn’t bother him even though he knew damned well the creatures existed. If a werewolf pack was in danger of being discovered by Bigfoot-happy trespassers, Roarke was happy to fly to the rescue.
    But he was a