by Zana Wilder
“Forgive me, Skye, I did not think when I commanded you to change. Understand I can not have foreign wolves shifting when they feel like it on my territory, in my hall. I mean you no disrespect – I can already sense you will be a strong leader.”
She's frowning at me from under her eyebrows, a massive crease in the middle of her forehead. Fuck, she still looks like she might cry. I have not a single clue how to deal with an upset, impetuous teenage girl, especially one forced here for the good of her pack, against her will. I change tact.
“You can't sense it Skye, because you've not come of age yet, but I can – I am not your fated-mate. You deserve a chance to find them.”
I continue to ignore the delegate and address her “I offer to you, as your father's spokesperson, my assurances that I shall be honoured to call you and your pack my ally, and hopefully one-day friend. But on the basis you are not my fated-mate I decline this pairing.”
I take hold of her chin gently and stare at her, willing her not to take offence “You may tell your father I decline it on that basis only.”
She lets out a huge, whooshing sigh, and a look of relief flashes across her face before she straightens herself, standing taller.
“Since you tell me I am not your fated-mate, I too have to decline our pairing.” With that the plucky little lady turns on her heel and strides out of the hall clutching a blanket around her, with her delegate trotting along behind, scrambling to keep up.
I fall back into my chair letting out a huge sigh. What the actual fuck?! Now I have three she-wolves to choose from, and not one stand-out candidate between them. The alliances themselves aren't anywhere near as good as an arrangement with the Crescent Moon pack would have been.
“Send them home” I wave at Tavey who raises an eyebrow in disbelief “Fuck it. Send them home... diplomatically. I know they have just arrived – but get them the hell out of here! That's your job beta – diplomacy. I can't bloody decide today, not after that.”
He gives a brief dip of his head but his expression is pure annoyance.
“And Tavey? Don't you ever fucking keep anything like that from me again, no matter what my father tells you to do.”
Chapter Three
Freya's POV
As soon as I fall over the doorstep of my flat, I release my hair from its severe scrapped-back bun, and sighing lean on the door for support. Coppery curls spring enthusiastically all over the place, released from their prison.
A big puff of breath escapes me, and I roll my shoulders. It's good to be home, and even nicer the school had to shut early.
I quickly ditch my cardigan, skirt and hideously bobbled tights in favour of a large, thick and vibrantly yellow jumper which reaches my knees. Huffing to myself I retrieve the fluffy slipper-socks I'd stuffed down the back of the sofa and plop into the grubby seat. Home!
My fingers subconsciously play over the birthmark behind my ear– it's a comforting habit I've had since I was a little kid. It helps my migraines ease, a little at least. They're getting far more frequent and much more bloody painful. It's so frustrating. At least tonight it's not a full blown head-splitting migraine, just a simple headache.
The doorbell jangles, along with my last nerve, and I groan. Dragging myself from the sofa, where I'd planned to stagnate for at least an hour, I stomp towards the door grumpily and peer through the peephole.
“Liz!!!!” my own shriek makes me wince as I fling the door open “Where the heck have you been?!” I fling myself on Liz, my best and only real friend, smothering her in an enthusiastic abundance of yellow cable-knit.
Yanking Liz into the flat, avoiding exposing more of my bare legs to the neighbours, I eye her sleek curves jealously. Her immaculate dress skirts her bum daringly and plunges away at the neck, showing off far more leg and boob than I'd ever dare. Her silky blonde wavelets toss happily around her jaw line amplifying her delicate high cheek bones. My friend is stunning, and it's quite frankly sickening how much she knows it.
“Isn't it perfect!” Liz chuckles spinning around slowly “New dress! Great for in the boring old office and still perfect for a night out. Wouldn't you just love to shag me?!”
I sigh awkwardly. I love that Liz's appearance and manners are so incongruously at odds - a rich daddy's girl with expensive tastes, a seriously dirty mouth and very genuine heart - but I really wish she wouldn't try quite so hard to make me uncomfortable.
“Ahhh well....” I back away into an overflowing vase.
Liz giggles and cajoles me in her surprisingly gravelly tones “C'mon now Freya,” she jostles towards me, pushing her boobs out and making lurid kissing noises “Whady'a say? Wanna quick one?”
My headache forgotten briefly I laugh “Who would ever say no?!”
I mock smack Liz' ass and, typically, overbalance tumbling us both sideways into my pokey living room. Liz lands cat-like, not a hair out of place and stalks toward the kitchen, suddenly looking pensive.
“Well, he did!”
From my tangled mess on the floor I shoot her a confused look.
“Wait? Who did what? Liz?!” The sideways leap in the conversation leaves my throbbing brain scrabbling to catch up.
“He turned me down!” she pouts.
My eyes widen and I grab Liz's arm, pulling her onto the tiny mothball couch... “What happened?”
I'm not used to Liz being rejected. This is the only time I've ever seen her upset over a tryst. She's normally the one to walk away, or at least dive straight into the next high-action romance.
This guy did seem different. For a start he's from my side of town - not quite the high-class hunting grounds Liz normally frequents, but when she came across him hanging around outside my apartment 'they just hit it off'.
Until they met a few weeks ago I'd never seen her genuinely interested in a man, she'd always just used them as play-things while it suited her. My heart drops a little for her, seeing past the pretty-girl pout to genuine hurt in her eyes.
“Another along in a minute!” I chirp – it's one of her stock phrases, but it sounds pretty hollow today.
“I'm not so sure” Liz sighs “he seemed …” she pauses, her eye falling on a bottle of supermarket red perched precariously on my fold-out table “maybe that'll help!”
Urgh, red wine is not about to become best friends with my headache. I start to protest, but seeing Liz so bloody miserable I groan and relent. I'm way too soft for my own good when it comes to Liz.
After a brief fight with a maleficent corkscrew, we're both eventually clutching a glass of red in some very grubby tumblers.
“No wine glasses” I mutter apologetically.
“No, these are fine. Fine looking...Nutella glasses” Liz giggles, already cheered slightly by the company and heart-burn inducing red.
“You would bloody notice” I snipe “you eat too much of the stuff! Anyway, saves me spending money on shit I'll only break.”
A bottle of wine and nothing to eat later, and I've somehow agreed to traipse into town for a night out. Only after I agree does Liz fish a bizarre looking flyer for 'Dating With a Difference' from her elegantly large purse and thrusts it at me.
Mates-4-Life are throwing a light hearted speed-dating night for all creeds. Mates-4-Life is the UK's #1 singles events company in the market. We host exclusive events tailored to YOUR unique needs – this invite indicates you've been specially selected and we think you could find your potential match at our highly sought-after event. You may invite a friend, but be sure to request management add them to our exclusive guest list by texting “MATES-4-LIFE”. We're excited to see you at the event.
“What a weird flyer!” I glance towards Liz “No... noooo! LIZ!”
She peers hopefully at me and my heart sinks
“I've got you on the guest list...I knew you'd keep me company. I need a rebound!”
“It's fucking speed dating Liz – You KNOW I'll hate it. Anyway, I have nothing to wear!” Even to me it sounds weak and whiny, and she looks u
ndeterred.
Liz pulls a brand new dress from one of her many shopping bags and thrusts it at me. It fits, rather too well, and I glower at her in suspicion. This feels like a set up. I'm about to scold her when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
The emerald green cloth clings in all the right places, and it highlights my copper curls amazingly. I awkwardly admire my own reflection, fiddling with my charm bracelet.
“I wish you'd take that old thing off” Liz grumbles “It doesn't go with anything!”
“Would you listen to yourself?” I retort “you sound like a teenage fashionista! You know it's special – I've not seen my aunty since the day she gave me it! It stays on.”
Liz rolls her eyes and goes back to finalising a lift. It's a small miracle, considering what very different lives we lead, that we've become friends.
There's Little Miss Rich-Kid not thinking twice about demanding her chauffeur transport us in luxury to some fancy-ass hotel half way across town and there's me, a school librarian, who scrapes together enough money to get the bus to work, and occasionally has to walk. And this is my life far better than where it started out.
By the time we're stepping into the leather innards of the sleek black car I'm seriously regretting agreeing to this. Liz on the other hand seems determined to forget her woes and is gearing up to make a night of it. She eyes my shoes critically, “You need to show those legs off more – I should've lent you some proper heels”
“Nope” I say resolutely “this is going to be awkward enough tonight without me stumbling around like bloody Bambi on the Lambrini!”
The venue is high class, and the security on the door seems a little extreme, even for a bunch of rich kids with rich daddies.
The speed dating goes as badly as I could have imagined; none of the men who sit down at my table seem remotely interested or interesting. Liz, of course, attracted several long looks as soon as one of her sleek high heeled boots touched the marbled floor. It was like they smelled her pheromones – heads turned.
It's a relief when we reach the evening's halfway point. There should be enough time to grab anther drink and collar Liz. Surely she has to be feeling this highly contrived evening has run its course? Perhaps we can sneak off early.
Once I track down Liz, it's clear we are having very, very different evenings. I groan inwardly.
“He's here” she hisses in my ear, half deafening me “and, he's down to be one of my speed dates!” She fails to hide a smug grin “He actually looked almost pleased to see me, surprised, but pleased.”
And there vanishes my hope of spending the rest of the evening on the sofa with a hot chocolate and girly movie.
I wonder if she had an idea he might be here... I eye her with a degree of suspicion, but she's now trawling through the list of names on my speed dating app trying to look innocent.
“Oh, he's on your list too” she points out the name 'Tavey' “Don't you be stealing him now!”
“Ladies, Gentlemen, and Everyone Else, if you would like to take your positions the second half of this evening is about to begin” the tannoy booms “We hope you enjoy your night. Swipe right on any interesting dates on our fabulous new app – mutual matches will be sent phone numbers and you can take your romance from there! Remember to tell your family, friends and packs you met at MATES-4-LIFE!”
What a weird turn of phrase! I don't have time to consider the guy's bizarre diction because a large, well muscled man plonks himself down ungraciously in the seat opposite. Looking slightly goofy he stretches out an arm to introduce himself.
“Tavey!! And you are??”
“Freya... pretty sure it says on my name tag”
I have to admit I quite like the look of this guy, Liz's guy, but the evening is draining me of the ability to make pleasant small talk. He doesn't look perturbed, instead letting out a big guffaw of laughter.
“It is pretty awful, isn't it?!” Tavey says loudly in the direction of the organiser, earning himself a glare “but... these things serve a purpose I guess?” He looks less certain.
“If the purpose is to waste hours of my life I'll never claw back, sure” I grin.
The next 5 minutes pass quickly– I can really see why Liz likes this guy. I'm not attracted to him, but he's so easy to talk to it's a huge relief. With all my other dates tonight it's either been like pulling teeth, or they've talked to my breasts the whole time.
Tavey seems really genuine, not Liz's normal toy-boy type at all – good for her! Except Liz is currently giving me the death-glare across the room. As bell goes to move on Tavey gives me a big bear hug before he ambles away.
I cringe; that'll really have helped Liz's jealousy. I half shrug my shoulders at her and mouth “he's all yours!” I'm pretty sure the wrath emanating in my direction will take more than that to appease it.
Glancing up, I can't help but notice the dominating figure striding into the room. Now that is a man, he's not messing about with a pretty boy image there. He's tall, board shouldered, and his very presence emasculates the other men in here.
The newcomer has my full attention – he doesn't seem involved in the speed dating, which is weirdly disappointing. I'm not normally a macho-man kind of girl- they're too domineering for me... but there's something about him.
I'm still eyeing the mysterious new guy when a well manicured hand reaches over my shoulder and places a champagne flute beside me.
“I saw you were running low” a slightly accented voice announces in my ear “it's not an evening to be out of alcohol”.
A little shiver of anticipation slides deliciously down my spine. Maybe the evening isn't going to be such a waste after all. Easing into the chair opposite me is a man who looks flawless. He makes me feel like a little girl in a party frock, although we're probably around the same age.
He's immaculately turned out, in that expensive, non-showy way the super-rich have. Eyeing his hair I'm sure it took three times longer to style than mine. Taking a big gulp of the drink I manage to murmur my thanks and agreement.
“It is an awful night to be without bubbles!”
In an elegant swoop he chinks glasses with me and toasts. “To meeting a very beautiful lady” he purrs “and hopefully many more enchanting encounters with her.”
I stare at him. What on earth does this guy see in me? He's probably more attracted to the designer label dress Liz gave me than what's underneath it.
I start when he gently touches my hand and asks if we could meet somewhere 'less crass' for another date. I can feel a red blush creeping up my neck.
I am totally out of practice at this flirting business but somehow, in the next moment, we're planning a date... Some of the ideas he comes up with are so surreal I feel myself loosening up a little – an all expenses paid shopping trip, a spot of dinner in Martin Wishart's – he has connections to arrange a reservation of course, a wine tasting tour, or perhaps a spa he muses.
“We'd certainly get to see more of each other in a spa” I blurt, distinctly tipsy.
He raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow and grins seductively, “Indeed”
The bell for the next round goes really quickly but he doesn't rush off. He doesn't seem like someone who's used to being rushed. He kisses me on both cheeks and tops up my glass before he slides away on beautiful leather red-soled shoes.
The bubbles are most definitely getting to me because I could have sworn that he just touched my birthmark and, even more weirdly, sniffed me.
By the time the next few very bland men have traipsed past I'm ready to leave. I can't help noticing the sophisticated champagne-bearing man, Marc, occasionally glances over at me with a smile. Mmm, he is the definition of elegance.
To be fair, if I'm just judging the rest of the guys here on looks, then the quality of men in the room is princely. Too bad most of them seem to take one look at me and either revert to the kind of polite chit-chat you have with your grandma, or to sleazy hints about one night stands.
The l
ast few dates drag hideously, until my spidey senses start tingling. Against the bar is the impressive hunk of hairy man I saw earlier, the one oozing dominance. He's watching the whole show with wry amusement. I swear, every now and then I catch him staring at me with amazing intensity. He has eyes I could drown in, happily.
The final bell eventually goes, and as it does Liz stalks up in a flash - part mock anger, part concern.
“I thought we agreed that one was mine?” she demands jerking her head towards Tavey.
“YOU agreed” I naughtily stoke my friend's jealousy “I agreed to no such thing, and Tavey and I had a lovely time!”
Liz' scowl deepens
“It's like we'd known each other our whole lives!” I chuckle “He gave me the biggest hug”
Liz growls. Since this is the very guy she was pretty cut up over earlier, when she thought he'd jilted her, I relent.
“Okay okay, I admit, it was a mutual enjoyment of the bizarre situation– I think we were both at the point of abandoning the whole evening” I grin at Liz “and do you realise you just growled. An actual growl. Like a bloody cat with a mouse?!”
Liz bats away my remark “So you're not interested in him?”
It takes a few reassurances before she lets it go. Just as she's getting around to interrogating me about the rest of my dates, a shadow looms over us.
“I think, given the speed-dating sham is over, I can safely say hello without being moved on in 5 minutes” a deep voice says “I'm Aaron, and, buying into sheer cheesiness of tonight, I have to say you are the most stunning woman here.”
Something about the voice does funny things to me, and I look up quickly at the most rugged guy I've ever seen. I choke on my drink - it's the guy who was propping up the bar, and he's talking to me.
“I might move you on right now” Liz bites back then, glancing at my deer-in-the-headlight expression, elbows me in the ribs chuckling and excuses herself to find 'one of her dates'.