Read Online Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4) by Jenny Schwartz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Schwartz
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towered over all else in the private garden. Classical music drifted on the air. Someone was hosting a small concert in the park.
Liz waited on the steps of her house, sitting there as casually as if her multi-million dollar townhouse was student digs. She smiled at him. “I’m listening to the concert. Baroque on a summer’s evening.”
“You look like summer.”
Her smiled widened. “Thank you.”
He had to look away from how beautiful she was. He’d expected she’d wear something short and flirty for clubbing, but instead, she wore a peasant top, white but colorfully embroidered, falling off one shoulder, and a long full skirt that draped sensually along her thighs. The skirt was the deep green of gentian leaves. Gold hoop earrings dangled, emphasizing the graceful line of jaw to throat, with her hair tied up and back in a loose knot.
If she had been a student, a girl waiting for him, eager to dance and love and forget the world, he’d have been tempted to do the same. But she sat on the steps of a house that was a silent, emphatic reminder of just how wealthy she was. It wasn’t just the Elixir Gentian that separated them. Liz belonged to a different world.
She stretched out a hand, and he clasped it and helped her up. She rose effortlessly, standing tall in high heels and shaking out her skirt.
“Can you walk in those shoes? My car’s a bit of a distance. I could come back for you.”
“We can walk to the club from here.” She released his hand to slide her arm through his.
They did, strolling along the sidewalk before Liz tugged him into an alley.
He frowned. “Don’t tell me you walk home this way from the club. You shouldn’t even walk this way to the club.”
“It’s a shortcut, since you’re with me. And I always get a taxi home or a friend drops me off. I’m aware that London is dangerous for women, even for wolf-weres. Some of the pack—” She fell abruptly silent.
Her sudden silence could have been because they’d just emerged from the alley to a busy street, but Carson had excellent instincts for danger. “Some of the pack…?”
“Some of the women are talking about taking a stroll where the surveillance cameras don’t record and luring men into attacking them.”
“What the hell for?”
“Fight practice and teaching would-be assailants a lesson. Women aren’t victims.”
He blew out his breath in an aggravated sigh. “There are better ways to prove that than provoking a fight.”
“Which is what I told them.”
“Did they listen?”
She smiled ruefully. “When I told them I’d tell Grandfather if they didn’t swear not to do anything so idiotic. I understand their frustration. In A&E I treat women who’ve been assaulted, raped, and abused. Children who’ve been battered.”
He put his arm around her shoulders in a quick hug of sympathy and reassurance. “We can’t turn vigilante.”
“Justice, not mob vengeance.” She nodded, jerkily. “Anyway, I don’t know how we got onto such a depressing topic. The club is across the road.”
He saw an Indian restaurant, a Thai one and a bookstore. There was no sign of a flamboyant salsa club.
He let his arm drop from her shoulders to her waist and they dashed between the traffic to the far side. A faint Latin beat reached his ears. He looked for a basement window, an underground club, but the music came from above. He glanced up, puzzled.
“Rooftop bar. I know it’s tempting fate in London, but they have a roofed area for when it rains.” Liz ventured down yet another alley, to a set of circular stairs. “There’s a commercial elevator for those who prefer it, but I like climbing up.” And climb she did, smoothly and athletically, despite her high heels that struck the metal steps with sharp clicks.
Round and round, dizzyingly, to emerge to a fourth story rooftop filled with tables, a hum of conversation and a live band setting up. Which meant it was recorded music that provided the background
Liz waited on the steps of her house, sitting there as casually as if her multi-million dollar townhouse was student digs. She smiled at him. “I’m listening to the concert. Baroque on a summer’s evening.”
“You look like summer.”
Her smiled widened. “Thank you.”
He had to look away from how beautiful she was. He’d expected she’d wear something short and flirty for clubbing, but instead, she wore a peasant top, white but colorfully embroidered, falling off one shoulder, and a long full skirt that draped sensually along her thighs. The skirt was the deep green of gentian leaves. Gold hoop earrings dangled, emphasizing the graceful line of jaw to throat, with her hair tied up and back in a loose knot.
If she had been a student, a girl waiting for him, eager to dance and love and forget the world, he’d have been tempted to do the same. But she sat on the steps of a house that was a silent, emphatic reminder of just how wealthy she was. It wasn’t just the Elixir Gentian that separated them. Liz belonged to a different world.
She stretched out a hand, and he clasped it and helped her up. She rose effortlessly, standing tall in high heels and shaking out her skirt.
“Can you walk in those shoes? My car’s a bit of a distance. I could come back for you.”
“We can walk to the club from here.” She released his hand to slide her arm through his.
They did, strolling along the sidewalk before Liz tugged him into an alley.
He frowned. “Don’t tell me you walk home this way from the club. You shouldn’t even walk this way to the club.”
“It’s a shortcut, since you’re with me. And I always get a taxi home or a friend drops me off. I’m aware that London is dangerous for women, even for wolf-weres. Some of the pack—” She fell abruptly silent.
Her sudden silence could have been because they’d just emerged from the alley to a busy street, but Carson had excellent instincts for danger. “Some of the pack…?”
“Some of the women are talking about taking a stroll where the surveillance cameras don’t record and luring men into attacking them.”
“What the hell for?”
“Fight practice and teaching would-be assailants a lesson. Women aren’t victims.”
He blew out his breath in an aggravated sigh. “There are better ways to prove that than provoking a fight.”
“Which is what I told them.”
“Did they listen?”
She smiled ruefully. “When I told them I’d tell Grandfather if they didn’t swear not to do anything so idiotic. I understand their frustration. In A&E I treat women who’ve been assaulted, raped, and abused. Children who’ve been battered.”
He put his arm around her shoulders in a quick hug of sympathy and reassurance. “We can’t turn vigilante.”
“Justice, not mob vengeance.” She nodded, jerkily. “Anyway, I don’t know how we got onto such a depressing topic. The club is across the road.”
He saw an Indian restaurant, a Thai one and a bookstore. There was no sign of a flamboyant salsa club.
He let his arm drop from her shoulders to her waist and they dashed between the traffic to the far side. A faint Latin beat reached his ears. He looked for a basement window, an underground club, but the music came from above. He glanced up, puzzled.
“Rooftop bar. I know it’s tempting fate in London, but they have a roofed area for when it rains.” Liz ventured down yet another alley, to a set of circular stairs. “There’s a commercial elevator for those who prefer it, but I like climbing up.” And climb she did, smoothly and athletically, despite her high heels that struck the metal steps with sharp clicks.
Round and round, dizzyingly, to emerge to a fourth story rooftop filled with tables, a hum of conversation and a live band setting up. Which meant it was recorded music that provided the background
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