by Mary Hughes
He’d never stood a chance to be romantic and win the Quatrain, because he couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t stop burying myself inside her, over and over…
He’d tried to be seductive, but his need for her—more, her desire for him, so long yearned for—blasted through any restraint. Even their sex was uncontrolled, unsophisticated. He’d made love to her, not romantically, but like a raw boy.
“Zoe…” He sighed. “I’m so very sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chivalry isn’t dead. Romance isn’t dead. I know there’s a romantic hero for you out there. And I tried… but with you I can’t be romantic. I always meant to do flowers and candlelight, but I shot straight to naked and sweating.”
She didn’t answer him, head still down, face veiled by glossy mahogany hair, more camouflage than her actual mask.
“I lost the competition long ago, and frankly, I don’t care.” His whole purpose coming tonight, and yet he felt nothing. “I hope you’ll do the right thing with the parchment, but I’m not concerned about that either.” He took her hands. “What really matters to me is that I’ve lost my chance to make you happy.”
She still didn’t answer. Was she crying? He was, inside.
He released her hands. “I hope Mr. Romance can give you what I can’t.”
She finally raised her head. Her cheeks were wet. “Daniel. You’re still a dork, you know that?”
“Yes.” His heart broke. He’d hurt her, without meaning to.
She sighed. “Come on. I have to get back to my guests and reward my best suitor with this parchment.”
“I understand.” His chest contracted in pain, this time for himself.
She was going to pick her true match, the suitor who’d romanced her best. One of the tuxedoed men in that ballroom.
Not him.
Covering his dismay, he stood, waved his hand, and was immediately dressed.
She smiled, but it was sad. Standing, her dress fell to her waist. She glanced over her shoulder. “With all my squirming, the zipper came undone. All that talk about not wanting you to do anything, and now I have to spoil it. Could you…?” Holding up the bodice, she turned her back to him.
He zipped the dress, covering her creamy skin, then tugged her skirt straight. It was hard not to run his hands over her, push her back onto that couch, and take her again.
If they lived together, they could do that every day of their lives.
But no. Even if she somehow miraculously fell in love with him, the only way they could be safe was if she played his servant. He’d never live like that.
She found her panties and skimmed them on then went to retrieve the scroll case. “Let’s go.”
Unlocking the door, he let her out. She swiveled past him on her long, long legs, his hopes leaving with her.
He suddenly couldn’t face seeing her present the parchment to someone else. Seeing another man had won her approval. Not that he cared who she gave the thing to, but after connecting with her on the couch, after that amazing climax, seeing her eyes light up gazing at another man felt like a particularly cruel sort of agony.
He caught up with her, touching her lightly on the arm. Her skin was silky smooth, and he ached that he’d never feel it again. “Zoe? You know, I think I’ll take off. You don’t need me anymore, right?”
She jerked a surprised glance at him, her eyes sparkling green in their domino. “Daniel, you dork. I most definitely need you for this.” Scroll case in one hand, she used the other to grab his. Her fingers felt small and slim and so very right in his.
Maybe she’d meant to pull him along, but she didn’t have to. She needed him. That was all she ever had to say.
Even though seeing her gaze into another man’s eyes with love would shred his heart.
Outside the ballroom door, she turned to him.
“Daniel, you wanted to give me romance. For once, you got it wrong.”
That hit him like a blow. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I said I wanted romance. I thought I wanted romance.” She gave a sad little laugh. “I was lying to myself.”
“What?” He blinked in his mask, his emotions a confused jumble.
“I should have seen it sooner. My words and actions didn’t line up. I kept saying I wanted romance, but instead of doing it, instead of seeking out dashing men with flowery words, I kept running away to have sex with you.”
Suddenly breathless, dizzy, he whispered, “And now?”
“I see the truth. What I truly wanted was a connection. Wolves mate regardless of love. I was worried that without romance, I wouldn’t know what a real connection was. But I do.” She brought his hand to her chest. “You showed me, Daniel. You’ve always shown me.”
His heart twisted in pain. And now that she recognized it, she could move on. “I understand.”
Now she could mate with a wolf. His whole body ached.
“You dork,” she said again. “It occurred to me as you zipped me up that you were acting like a brother or lady’s maid. But I know you’re not either of those. So even if I acted as your maid, you’d still know I was your mate.”
“M-mate?” His heart stopped.
She nudged him. “Could be fun role play.”
Her eyes. Once the green of new grass and the hope of spring…now emerald, and they’d stayed emerald too long to be fleeting emotion.
It must’ve happened in the closet. That wasn’t simply sex they’d had.
They were mated. Married, in the customs of her people. For life. His heart thumped an erratic beat, on the edge of forever.
And in the custom of his people?
He took a deep, painful breath. His heart slammed into a staccato tempo. The Witches’ Council would be sharpening all their axes.
Mated. Forever.
“Wolves and wizards can’t be together,” he began. “It’s a death penalty…”
His voice died, the importance of his answer so overwhelming to him, he almost couldn’t put it into words.
“Oh. Of course.” Her voice was so small and hurt. She dashed the few steps to the door and threw it open to the ballroom.
The orchestra played “Some Enchanted Evening.”
She stopped just inside, staring at the couples dancing.
Daniel strode into the ballroom after her. Taking her shoulders, he turned her toward him. “You didn’t let me finish.”
Her eyes came to his, confusion clouding them.
“We can’t be together, but the hell with that.” He went down on one knee before her. “Lady Mystery, I love you.”
Around them, the swirling couples slowed. Came closer. Conversations fell off, as if everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.
He raised his gaze to Zoe’s, loving the deep emerald of her irises, jewels set in her black mask, glittering in the golden light. “I’ve loved you forever. I never felt good enough for you, and I still don’t. But if you say yes, I promise to spend the rest of my life working to help you be happy and fulfilled.”
“Yes to what?” she breathed.
“To words I mean with every beat of my heart. Will you marry me?”
She smiled, radiant joy in her eyes. His heart leaped.
Then she blinked, and his chest hollowed. She glanced at the attentive faces around them. In an undertone she said, “We have witnesses. What if this gets to the you-know-what Council? We can’t get away with pretending not to know each other.”
He wanted to howl. “I don’t care.”
“I do. I don’t want to be a wife and a widow in one day.”
She was going to turn him down, again. His heart shriveled.
He stood. They couldn’t live together. Couldn’t marry, officially. But the Council was potent, but not omnipotent. He and Zoe could go on the run. If the Council couldn’t find them, it couldn’t punish them.
He chewed it over. Would it work? He’d never cons
ciously put Zoe in danger.
Sophia used to work for the Council. Surely she’d know enough to help him and Zoe stay one step ahead.
On the run. No more living in high style, no more New York lofts or Ferraris.
He’d only be giving up…everything. All those years, fighting for status and acceptance among the cool kids. Gone.
No, not everything. He’d have Zoe.
Completely worth it.
He took both her hand and tried to tell her how much she meant to him. “Please. I love you, Lady Mystery. If I tell you I have a way to be together, will you make me a happy man? Will you marry me?”
The orchestra stopped playing. The room was hushed.
The sound of the clock, winding up to strike, dropped into the silence. Her gaze shifted away. “Look at the time.”
She turned from him as the clock struck midnight.
His hands fell from hers, dead weights.
And in his chest, his heart turned to ashes.
* * *
Pulse hammering in her ears, Zoe raised her voice to address the assembly. “Good evening, everyone. I am the Queen of Hearts and this is my ball. Tonight, I award this parchment.” She held up the scroll case. “I award it to the man who has romanced me the best. A man who romanced me, not with flowers and sweet nothings, but with his constant support, guidance, and commitment. With the light of his love.”
Give this to the Light, Zoe. Now the cryptic words that had appeared on the parchment made sense. Daniel Light, but more, the light of her life. Tears itched in her eyes.
“I present the prize to my romantic hero, the King of Hearts.” She turned and handed Daniel the scroll to a smattering of polite applause.
He frowned at it in his hands as if he couldn’t understand what it was. What it meant.
Smiling, her spirits and her sight both shimmering, she spelled it out for him.
“I learned something tonight, My Hero. This parchment was my idea of a romantic gesture. I thought romance was the only truly beautiful thing between a man and woman. But you know what? Romance is only a special gesture, given by a true and constant heart.”
His gaze rose to hers. A sheen covered his beautiful blue eyes.
“You’ve given me the best of you—a true and constant love.” She took his face in her hands. “My Hero—you asked me to marry you. Do you want to hear my answer?”
His lips parted to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed several times but finally nodded his bright blond head.
Not asking with words. But he’d given her what she needed for years, without her ever asking. Now, she’d finally be able to return the favor.
“With you all as witnesses, I present to this man the true prize—my heart. I love you, My Hero. Yes. My answer is yes.”
She drew him to her and kissed him before the gathered throng.
This time wild applause broke out. Her heart shouted joyously with it.
* * *
Weeks later, Daniel lay with a sleeping Zoe nestled beside him on the cheap mattress of an inexpensive anonymous flophouse. He was sleepily contemplating how much his life had changed when his burner cell buzzed on the plywood nightstand beside him. He reached for it.
Sophia, along with help from others in their extended family, had discovered Dorine had been approached about the parchment by an exiled witch. They hadn’t found who. The buyers were tracked down and interrogated. They didn’t give up their principals but there was a hint some of them were very highly placed. That gave Daniel some sleepless nights.
But Daniel and Zoe managed to keep one step ahead of the Witches’ Council.
He lifted the cell phone. One text. From Sophia, though the number was unfamiliar.
“GO.”
His adrenaline spiked. He woke Zoe and they threw their go-bags into the latest of a long line of second-hand beaters, paid for with cash.
Life on the run wasn’t easy. Zoe’d had to sell her business. Luckily, the money from that plus the cash they’d gotten from offloading all Daniel’s expensive toys gave them time to figure out a plan. For now, they continued to send money anonymously to her mother. Continued to buy beaters and rent flops.
As Daniel cranked the ignition, a bright flash went off behind them. His delayed-action scrubbing spell, muddying all traces of his and Zoe’s presence. When the Council Enforcer arrived, all he’d find was the magical equivalent of dust.
Life wasn’t easy. But living on the run with Zoe was incredibly freeing. Stripped to its bare essentials, Daniel knew what was important. His mate. As he drove away, he reached for her hand.
Zoe reached for his. Their fingers met.
Joy surged through him at the connection. He tossed a quick grin at her, his joy doubled when she returned it with a big smile of her own. This was what was important to them both. Living life to the fullest—
Together.
Dear Reader,
Thanks for reading! My greatest joy as an author comes from you joining me here in my book world. I hope you’ve found entertainment and pleasure in these pages for a time, and that you’ll come back and join me soon.
~Mary
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Curious to find out what happens with the prophecy? Continue reading for the first chapter from Heart Mates and Mind Mates.
Heart Mates
Pull of the Moon
© 2015, 2017 Mary Hughes
To survive, they’ll have to find the missing pieces—starting with their own.
Sophia Blue wishes the cute little doggie she’s found in her aunt’s abandoned magic shop could talk. Maybe he’d tell her if the old woman has wandered off on a walkabout, or if there’s foul magic afoot. Odd how the scruffy little fur ball seems to understand Sophia’s every word.
Just a few years ago, she might have cast a spell to translate the dog’s ear-piercing yaps. But her magic is out of her reach, locked away in penance for mistakenly helping an evil wizard.
Noah Blackwood was the last person to see Sophia’s aunt before she hit him with a spell gone sideways. By night he’s two-hundred pounds of authority, a respected local pack leader. By day? He’s twelve pounds of poof dog. A tasty morsel for the five anti-alpha wolves gunning for him.
The instant the sun goes down and Sophia’s eyes meet Noah’s, fire ignites between them in an incendiary kiss. But when the evil wizard reappears intent on murder, Sophia must break through killing layers of pain to find her magic. And Noah must reclaim all that he is—even defy the law—to claim the woman his heart knows is his mate.
Warning: Contains a sassy ex-witch princess who hasn’t picked up a wand in four years, and a rare alpha wolf who proves attitude knows no boundaries. A little drooling, a lot of panting, and a few nips in all the right places. Flea collar not included.
Enjoy the following chapter from Heart Mates:
Noah Blackwood opened the door to the Uncommon Night Owl Bookstore, knowing full well he was walking into trouble.
He’d only been alpha a few days, but already he had a sense for when members of his pack were in trouble—and when they were causing trouble. Sure enough, as he glided soundlessly across the threshold of the bookshop, his foot struck broken glass. He scanned the store with a narrowed gaze.
Seventeen-year-old Marlowe stood to his left, beside a front display case. His dirty fingers were wrapped tightly around something, caught in the act of stealing it.
Marlowe was a bully in training and a young man with too much time on his hands.
By bloody tooth and claw, Noah would give the pup something better to do.
As he closed the door and strode toward Marlowe, Noah realized the pack youth was frozen i
n place, fingers squeezing the thing as if he couldn’t let go.
And that the thing was a foot-long psychedelic capped tower that looked uncomfortably like an erect penis.
Noah scowled. He wasn’t sure what was more unnatural, that frozen boy or the flower-power dildo.
A rattle of beads from the back of the store caught his attention.
“Mr. Blackwood.” The store’s proprietor—Linda Blue, styled herself as some sort of seer—swept apart a back curtain of beads and trundled out. “You’ll need to keep better control of your people. You’re better than Scauth, of course, but…oh my.” As she neared, her hand fluttered to her ample bosom.
Magic flared in his sight, nearly blinding him. She’d cast a spell.
Damn it, she was a witch.
Noah’s palm pressed automatically to his chest, shielding his wolf medallion. Witches trouble. Big trouble. The sooner Noah got Marlowe out from under her feet, the better.
“This won’t happen again, ma’am.” He half-growled it, his inner wolf close to the surface.
“And how do I know that, Mr. Blackwood?” She looked down her long nose at him, a difficult feat considering Noah was almost a foot taller.
He was angry Marlowe had put him in this situation. He wanted nothing more than to take the boy and leave, but witches took careful handling. “Let me talk with the boy. You’ll see.”
She waved a hand. Marlowe staggered as if released. Noah’s hackles rose. A witch who could manage to freeze a wolf was no mere dabbler.
Marlowe dared to snarl at him. The idiot.
Noah seized the pup by the scruff of the neck. Marlowe swung at him with the pink rod.
Noah saw red. The pup wasn’t an idiot, he was an imbecile. He snatched the rod from Marlowe’s hand and hoisted the pup until his legs batted air.
Snarls changed abruptly to thin whines. Noah set the rod gently on the display case. A doodad in a magical store full of doodads that did who-knew-what, and the pup had been swinging it like a bat. Barking dogs, he didn’t know how close he’d skated to disaster.