by Zana Wilder
My heart is beating wildly and I have to take some deep breaths. This is ridiculous, I'm school-girl crushing. I'm genuinely not sure I'm going to manage to get my words out; my mouth feels like dust.
He is utterly not my 'type' – he's outdoorsy, with well toned muscles nestled under a crisp shirt and jeans combo. Not the showy gym-bunny kind of muscles that aren't actually strong, he looks strong.
Oh shit. Am I staring at him like I'm undressing him? The ridiculousness of the evening and the alcohol has gotten to me. If he was doing the same to me, I'd royally tell him where to go. He's not doing the same, is he? I steel myself for a look into his amused face...
“Can I top up your drink?” he reaches for my glass and our fingers touch. We both jerk our hands back and the champagne flute clatters to the floor smashing into hundreds of slivers.
“Oh balls” I exclaim forgetting myself completely “totally your fault – you gave me a shock!”
He laughs, a nice easy sounding genuine laugh, “I'll accept blame, if you let me buy you another? Do you normally store such static?” He shakes his hand ruefully “enjoyable and sore at the same time.”
Then, he grins wickedly “Does touching you always combine pleasure with pain?!”
I feel weirdly charmed and slightly scandalised, although who knows why. It's definitely not the sleaziest thing anyone's said to me tonight. Catching myself I manage to give the bartender a little nod as he hovers waiting for my response on the fresh drink.
“I'm Aaron, Aaron Varg” the hunk of man holds out his hand again. I hesitantly take it. His palm is rough, calloused, like he's not afraid of hard work – it feels nice and cool in mine.
I don't get an electric shock touching him this time, but a delicious tingling runs all over my body. I eye him over the top of my glass, I can't quite believe he's interested in me and not Liz.
“Ahem,” he raises an eyebrow “it's customary at this point you tell me your name too...”
Ah shit. I was too busy appreciating his looks to pay attention. I feel a blush creep up my face yet again. I'm not normally like this with men. I don't do giddy schoolgirl nonsense.
“ Freya,” I splutter out “ Freya Faye”
He holds my hand a little longer than necessary, and my heart beats wildly. His shirt hugs his well defined abs and the rolled up sleeves highlight a gorgeous tan.
I look up quickly to avoid being caught staring again and catch his twinkling eyes. I take a gulp of bubbles and feel them surge to my head.
We take a seat in a corner booth and I'm so close I can smell his muskiness mixed with a fresh pine scent. He has no right smelling that good, without thinking I lean in a little closer to him. He reaches out and brushes my hair away from my neck. It's such an intimate gesture I startle, goosebumps forming deliciously where he touched me.
A very delightful half hour later Aaron frowns at his wildly beeping phone. He excuses himself and steps away to take a call, looking concerned.
Moments later he hurries back, pale under his tan. There's barely time to take in what he's saying about a family emergency before he's dashing away. I mutter an acceptance of his excuse, but he's already halfway across the room.
It's oddly gutting. It wasn't the easy conversation I struck up with Tavey, but hell was there an instant and very physical attraction. When he'd first appeared, looking so self assured, I couldn't help but watch him. It's probably a reaction he gets from any female in the vicinity - he is soul-crushingly handsome.
I was pretty sure he was enjoying himself too once we got talking. I groan in annoyance, just as Liz pops up at my elbow.
She looks pleased with herself. Scratch that, she looks delighted. Liz “matched” with Tavey on the stupid mates-4-life app. She tracked him down in one of the hotel's bars and they'd had a chat. He'd apologised for trying to put some distance between them, claiming he'd been a bit overwhelmed by how much he felt for her so quickly, and her track record with men.
I look at Liz sceptically but she seems pleased with the excuse. She's been weirdly besotted, so I guess it might be mutual.
I glance around, expecting to turn into a third wheel at any moment. Liz sighs and explains he got called away on some family emergency - the exact excuse Aaron just used?!
“At least I have his number,” she smiles “we're meeting up later in the week.”
My face drops. I didn't get Aaron's number. Worse still he only watched the speed-dating, so the app will be useless to contact him. I frown to myself realising he didn't ask for my number either. Maybe he wasn't really interested and I was too busy drooling to notice.
On the bright side I can't remember the last time anyone tried to chat me up, never mind two men in the space of half an hour.
The rich guy, Marc, thoroughly schmoozed me with his elegant charm, and the more rough and ready Aaron set my pants on fire in a way I'm half ashamed to admit, even to myself.
Liz and I chatter nonsense about love, flings and sexy men in a warm alcohol haze right up until I spill out the car and up my crumbling tenement steps. Bed well after midnight... not done this in a very long time!
My phone beeps just as I get into the flat. The bloody dating app is sending reminders to make selections already.
Quickly I swipe 'no' on a few faces, I hover over Marc's profile before swiping 'yes' and grinning to myself. I crawl out of the fancy clothes and into my distinctly stained, well worn pyjamas and clamber into bed. I doubt he'd swipe yes if he saw me right now!
Chapter Four
Aaron's POV
I sigh, glancing at the clock. I've probably put this off longer than was necessary. I'm now officially late. Tavey will forgive me, but only after giving me a very hard time.
It's one of his hair-brained schemes to help find my 'true mate'. A snort escapes me at the thought.
My father chose my mother as his Luna – they weren't fated mates but they made it work for the pack. My mother always said it made her feel special to be chosen. They're expecting me to do the same. The pack is so traditional, there's no way they will accept a new alpha without a Luna – I don't have much choice.
Tavey, however, is a pain in my arse. He's old-fashioned and stubborn, and he's my beta. He's constantly nagging like an old woman that I should wait for 'the one'. Annoyingly my wolf seems to thoroughly approve of my beta's plans, it's like the pair are fucking ganging up on me. I grin at the absurdness of the thought.
Tavey thinks as a new alpha I'd have more sway over the elders if I have the respect and gravitas of a fated-mate. A snort escapes me again, there are a few elders I'm pretty sure will never respect me no matter the circumstance.
I need some time out before I make a decision on the Luna Rite – sending the ladies home early was impulsive and has only made my decision harder. I've spent only a few minutes with each, it's not much to base a life-altering call on. I didn't exactly show great leadership skills there, making the rash decision to send them all home.
Despite his prattling about fated-mates, tonight seems more like Tavey's own desire to find some tail than serving mine. He's been fairly off since meeting some girl whom he'd deemed stunning, enticing, entrancing... but entirely unsuitable. He turned her down, but I bloody wish he hadn't - he's been in a fucking awful mood ever since. Who knows what terribly traditional standards he judged the poor girl on?!
I grump to myself as I slowly start to get ready. A speed-dating night for shifters and the occult? Who ever heard of such bullshit.
I'm deliberately late. If I turn up late, I can't be included in the speed-dating rounds, but I can still get some entertainment from watching... and Tavey can't be too cross with me. And, spot a potential mate, my wolf interjects. My eyes roll of their own accord as I shrug off my trusty leather jacket and T-shirt, and pull on a crisp shirt, heading for the door.
Hotel Romantique has a good few rows of expensive looking cars with drivers on stand-by when I arrive. My beta failed to mention this was quite such an exclusive event
and I start to feel cross before I've even got inside, stomping towards the door with a glower.
“Aaron Va...” I started to say to the doorman who swiftly interrupts
“Mr Varg, of course, we're delighted you managed to find time this evening”
I glance sharply at him searching for the hidden reprimand, but he seems genuinely pleased, holding the heavy door wide and gesturing enthusiastically for me to enter. I catch my temper and step inside quickly.
It's probably a big boon for the events company that Tavey signed me up to this. It makes me uncomfortable – all the attention that being the alpha-heir to the most dominant shifter pack in the country brings, and the liberties it allows.
I stalk along, taking in the plush interior. The main event is being held in a large reception room draped garishly in red, while several smaller breakout rooms with various bars are scattered around the remainder of the first floor.
I can't sense any threat here and my shoulders relax a little as I hand my jacket to the young shifter in charge of the cloak room. I wink at the kid before turning to walk with purpose towards the lounge bar in the main hall.
Not purposefully enough, the twittering coordinator flutters around me 'sure' she can re-arrange things so that 'I'm in on the action'. Of course, I couldn't possibly deprive anyone else of their turn, especially at this late stage in the evening I smile sweetly as I attempt to wriggle out of her clutches.
Eventually I strike a deal - she leaves me to watch in amusement, and when the company next promotes their events they can advertise that I attended and that, as future alpha, I endorse them. Thankfully it works - the coordinator walks away as if with each step she might take off, she's so delighted.
I shake my head in amusement, sometimes it's easier to be nice than let the inner alpha roar to be left alone. I catch the barman's eye and settle down with a beer to watch with a degree of onlookers glee. When Tavey sees me he gives me a stern finger wag which I ignore, enjoying winding him up.
Over in the corner, a lithe figure draws my attention, copper-red curls cascading down her back like a waterfall on fire. My heart gives a heavy thud in my chest, catching me unawares.
I can only see her back, but my wolf is stirring with interest and I slide along the bar for a better view. She has a delicately bored expression, occasionally lit up by a smile. She's one of those people whose every movement is captivating.
The girl glances up as if she feels my eyes on her and stares straight at me. Her look is unabashed, almost a challenge, and then it's gone – she turns back to her current date. My wolf growls, inherently jealous of the man she's with.
Until I spotted the red-head I was more than content to watch in amusement from the sidelines. Now, absurdly, I'm half regretting not joining in. Surely the event can't be running for much longer? I thrum my fingers in my glass, impatient for the last few rounds to be over.
I catch my thoughts, unused to the sudden intense interest I have in the girl, just as the co-ordinator twitters that everyone is free to mingle.
I quickly collar the bartender to find-out what the slender redhead was drinking and I'm surprised to find it's one of the more expensive champagnes. I don't know why I'm surprised... beautiful girl and beautiful taste. My wolf grumbles in jealousy however when the bartender conspiratorially lets slip that it was Marciel de Vaudou who purchased her the drink, and prior to this she was drinking a fresh dry white.
I give in to my wolf's grumbling and lower myself to do a little flexing. I instruct the barman to bring the same champagne for a top up, should she agree. Striding towards where the stunning redhead and her friend are chatting, I feel an unexpected surge of excitement.
As I slow to a halt beside her I catch her scent – it's fresh, pine and lilac mingled together. It's gorgeous, and it's most definitely human. She is a plain old, normally ageing, normally ailing and entirely non-shifter-like human.
I take a deep breath expecting to feel disappointed and realise I don't really give a fuck. It's a bit weird, my wolf doesn't normally have much time for she-wolves, beyond a quick fuck, never mind humans. He still definitely wants to know this girl, intimately.
The friend quickly takes the hint and scoots off giving me some time to turn on the charm. I'm grateful - I'm oddly impatient, and not really in the mood for small talk with a third wheel.
Chapter Five
Aaron's POV
Fucking FUCK – called away to a family emergency just as I was getting to know the most interesting girl I've met in a decade.
It sounds serious - I've no choice, I have to leave immediately. My wolf protested so loudly and the girl's eyes were so gut-wrenchingly hurt that I swung away quickly to avoid their reproach. I didn't even get her bloody number. Smooth, Aaron, very smooth. I run a hand through my hair and try to clear my head from her intoxicating smell.
I shake my head to clear my brain of its fuzz as I career towards my parents' private estate, first on the motorway then on tiny single-track roads. Tavey's motorbike is on my back tyre as we reach the turn-off.
My father said very little on the phone but he had a panicked tone I've not heard from the alpha before, but then, whatever the hell it is, it involves Aurora. The thought of something wrong with my baby sister makes me gun faster up the last 200 meters of drive and I come to a halt in a spray of gravel at the front entrance.
The wave of relief that hits me when I see my little sister sitting on the chaise longue in the study is short lived. She tearfully retells her story between hiccuped sobs.
My sister has always been a wild child, and my parents were increasingly alarmed as she reached her mid-teens. They restricted her access to family funds to curb her extravagant behaviour.
Not to be deterred, and ever resourceful, Aurora explains how she set about trying to find alternative sources of income while in her first year at university.
My parents, I assume, were hoping Aurora would find a nice grounding job, calm down, and stop her spending sprees. Instead, she found an advert for student shifters to make money by signing up to 'drug trials'. She and her friends had greedily enlisted after learning just how much money they could make if they were selected for all three trial stages.
“I realised quickly the Coven were running the trials” Aurora says hesitantly, taking fervent glances at my father, gauging his reaction. He takes a hissing breath in and nods curtly, forcing her to continue.
“I... I thought I was being clever daddy,” she sounds like a little girl suddenly “I made up a surname, so the pack wouldn't be involved.” My father's low warning growl halts Aurora's story mid-track, and she looks falteringly at me for support.
“It's okay Aurora,” I pat her arm gently “but we need to hear this... keep going...”
She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “I was super-excited to make it as far as the third set of trials – I felt fine through the first two trials, and the third was where the big money was!”
I can't see where this is going and my thoughts are whirring. I try very hard to keep my temper in check and not rush Aurora. She's obviously hurting, but the story is getting more and more perturbing. I hate any of the pack being involved with the Coven, especially my little sister.
There's an excruciatingly long pause before Aurora starts sobbing. “ I can't … I can't shift. Not since the trial started... and... and” her voice dips to a strained whisper “I can't even feel her any more. I can't feel my wolf!”
The room is in uproar, most of the council are, like me, hearing this for the first time. The angry questions, the shouting and upset dull to a background hum as I take in Aurora's huddled sobbing frame. She's right - I can't feel her wolf. I can't mind-link her.
I bundle my baby sister up like she's seven and not seventeen, and carry her away from the turmoil, trying to suppress my rage until I can settle her in her bedroom.
When I get back to the council rooms it hits me what a massive blow this is, not just to Aurora, but to the pack. The
only daughter of the pack's alpha, stripped of her wolf by the fucking Coven and no way of knowing if it's temporary or permanent.
My mother, the Luna, is clinging desperately to the hope that it's a spell which will wear off. I've a deep foreboding inside, and an empty space where my sister's wolf should be.
The Coven, the absolute bastards! Everyone knew they were growing in power but I don't think even the council members were aware of how far they were dabbling in forbidden majiks until tonight. Something needs to be done, and quickly. I just hope my father is still enough of an alpha to do it.
Chapter Six
Freya's POV
The morning is a fucking disaster. Who the hell decided to run an event that goes on after midnight on a bloody school night? Liz can just fuck off the next time she suggests something like that, the event hosts can fuck off too.
I grumble to myself, hunting frantically for my woolly skirt and woe-begotten tights in the overflowing laundry basket. Everyone who went along for a laugh and doesn't need to work today, they can go to hell too!
I skitter out the flat pulling unironed clothes on and cursing everyone I can think of. I slide up to the bus stop just as the doors shut. Bloody typical! I make a prayer gesture to the driver to open up again and let me on.
“Running late this morning Miss Faye?” he grins, watching me fall up the steps. He gets the brightest smile I can muster through the brewing hangover and a panted thanks.
Today is a disaster. Everything electronic I touch freezes, spits out error messages or just plain turns itself off. The kids are especially irritating and just to make my day I left my bloody phone at home. I don't like to think I'm especially attached to it, but I feel strangely naked without it. Not that anyone is likely to be contacting me anyway I remind myself.
By 15:30 I'm exhausted, frazzled beyond belief and could kill just to crawl into bed. I am never agreeing to one of Liz's stupid schemes during the week again, perhaps ever! I squeeze the last of the books back onto their shelves, giving the bindings a reassuring pat and turn the flickering lights out on the library.