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look.
    “I’ll keep
that in mind.” His face was serious, the teasing light that had
faintly flickered in his eyes earlier was gone now, replaced with
cool intelligence.
    Good. Maybe he
was only annoying first thing in the morning…or when he’d been
drinking. She frowned recalling the smell of whiskey that had
permeated his room. If she caught him drinking on duty, she’d have
to rip him a new one. Setting her mug down, she proceeded to lay
down the law.
     

Chapter
3
    Damien followed Samantha—no, make
that Sam —out of the kitchen for an official tour of the pack
house. She’d held up well against his attempts to annoy her and he
was impressed. He couldn’t quite figure out exactly why he felt the
need to get under her skin. This was a job and it would be better
if he pandered to her more, got on her good side so she’d open up
to him. Of course, kissing up too much might seem suspicious and he
doubted he could do it for very long. He rubbed the back of his
neck. Hell, he’d just play it by ear and see how things went;
that’s what he and Reno, his old partner, had always done.
    She’d been
blunt about her expectation of his behaviour. No drinking on the
job. No fighting with pack members. No illegal activity.
Interactions with the local humans were to be kept to a minimum. If
any humans asked, he was a friend on vacation.
    He’d nodded,
raising no protest as he’d finished his meal. Pretty standard
stuff.
    “Dining room.
TV room.” Sam led him through the house and Damien looked at each
with interest, automatically noting exits and inconsistencies in
the rooms’ structures. Old homes like this sometimes had hidden
passages or trap doors. Useful information in a pinch. All the
rooms were a good size, though there was evidence that the original
floor plan of the house had been altered at some time.
    “You’ve done
some renovating, I see.” He studied the floorboards noting how the
wood changed halfway through the room. A wall must have been there
at one point.
    She made a
non-committal sound. “Some previous Alpha likely thought they’d
need more room for pack meetings.”
    Damien nodded
and gestured towards the ornate tables. “And all the antiques? They
don’t seem quite your style.”
    Sam barely
glanced towards where he was indicating. “Collected over the years.
Apparently my grandmother enjoyed them, but I’ve too much to do to
be worried about furniture.”
    “Some have
been moved recently, I take it.” Damien stared at a patch of darker
flooring. Something large—a bookcase, perhaps—had once sat there,
protecting the wood from being faded by the sun. Strange that it
would have been relocated after so many years.
    “What’s with
all the questions? I thought you were a rogue, not some sort of
freakin’ interior designer.” Sam turned and planted her hands on
her hips, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation on her face.
    Damien held
back a chuckle. Sam Harper didn’t seem to have much of a filter
between her brain and her mouth. “Rogue, yes. Designer, no. I’m
just observant. I don’t know a Chippendale from a Hepplewhite.”
    “A what?” She
blinked.
    “Chippendale
and Hepplewhite. They were furniture designers. My mate liked
antiques.”
    “You’re
mated?”
    If she hadn’t
touched on a sore subject, the look on her face might have made him
laugh out loud. As it was, he scowled and automatically drew his
protective wall around himself. “Was. She died a little over three
years ago.”
    “Oh.
I’m…er…sorry.”
    “No need to
be. You had nothing to do with her death.” He stared at her, eyes
shuttered and ready to fend off a barrage of nosey questions. She
didn’t ask any though and, after a beat, he verbally prodded her.
“The tour?”
    She nodded.
“The office is this way.” Sam headed towards the front of the
house, her expression giving no indication as to how she felt about
his abrupt change of subject. Not that he cared. He didn’t discuss
Beth with