Miranda's Mate by Ann Gimpel Page A

much time running free as a wolf. I worried myself sick about her for years. It was almost a relief when something besides the law got her.”
    Ellie pulled the door shut behind her, and Miranda gathered her scraps of torn clothing. She sank into a chair, too shocked to do anything but stare at a wall. The wolf—her wolf—snarled deep inside her. It wanted to be free. Its small taste of embodiment had been heady. It wanted more.
    “Holy crap.” Her eyes had filled with tears on that long-ago summer evening. “What on earth am I going to do?”
    Miranda dragged her thoughts back to the present. She’d moved automatically through her cool-down routine. Another few moves and she’d be ready to shower. Her life since that first shift had been full of subterfuge, stealth, and bargains with her wolf to keep that side hidden. No wonder I became a secret agent. My illustrious career actually began when I was a freshman in high school.
    She’d found if she slipped out her window a couple nights a week and gave the wolf free rein in the fields around their house, it was controllable the rest of the time. Mostly. Her aunt pretended the night in Miranda’s bedroom never happened. Miranda went along with her. It was easier that way.
    She’d kept to herself during college; it didn’t seem safe to get close to anyone. While she’d screwed a lycan or two at the annual gathering, she’d never had sex as a human with a human—until Garen. The experience had been so unbelievable, she dreamed about it every night, wakening with damp thighs and a pussy desperate to be full of his cock again.
    She walked into the small ladies’ locker room, dropped her clothes on a bench, and trooped to the shower. First too hot, then too cold, it took just the right touch to get the water so it didn’t scald or freeze her. Standing beneath its spray, she erected the wall she’d always kept around her heart, brick by brick.
    Garen had made it patently clear he had no interest in her—beyond their employee-employer relationship. He’d kept his distance since dumping her in the apartment right below his office. And made a point of leaving every night. She knew because the building felt empty without his energy. No more burning the midnight oil. It was such a departure from his normal schedule where she’d gotten used to being able to catch him at work at ten p.m., or even midnight, she wondered if he might not have a girlfriend.
    It doesn’t matter. It was just a dream. Walling off her feelings didn’t ease the ache in her chest. She wondered if she’d ever be the same person. When she realized she was crying, Miranda pounded the tiled enclosure with a fist. “Stop it,” she growled. “Just stop it. I’m bigger than this. I am not going to throw away my career—never mind my sanity—on someone who doesn’t want me.”
    She turned off the water and dried herself. Her short hair was always a surprise. Miranda had already begun growing it back out. She didn’t like herself as a blonde, and she missed being able to braid her hair and get it out of the way. It was too short to do much of anything but blow in her face.
    She got into fresh underwear, a pair of dark slacks, and a pressed, white shirt, following them with her workout shoes. Next, she folded her leotard and tights and headed for the stairs. The gym was in the basement. She always took the stairs to and from her workouts. For one thing, they ate up more time than the elevator. I’ve got to get out of here. I don’t have enough to do.
    Miranda let herself into the neutrally furnished room she’d occupied for the past thirteen days. It had a stellar view of Puget Sound. She checked her computer, responded to a few emails, and went to work on logistics for the ISL takedown operation. She’d floated the idea of setting herself up inside the San Ysidro facility after scoping it out via the sat feed. Garen hadn’t exactly said no, so she buried herself in research and began making