by Olivia Arran
Uncle Sidney—Senior of course. My cousin had been Sidney Archibald Firbright Jr.—was an okay guy. A little gruff and overbearing, with strict rules and a penchant for obedience, but then again he was an alpha wolf. One that had lost his only son and heir.
So, I’d stopped asking.
“Coming!” I called back, giving my appearance a last once over in the mirror, then hot-footing it to the door. Smoothing a hand over my close-cropped hair, I pasted a big smile on my face and pulled open the door. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
Auntie linked her arm with mine, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. “If you’re sneaking out to meet some hot stud-muffin, you can let me know?” Her voice rose on a wistful sigh, carrying with it images of grandbabies and wedding bells.
I nearly choked, a nervous snort escaping. Stud-muffin? If only she knew the truth of what I’d really been up to. “I just snuck out to go to the shops and then the rain started. I ended up waiting it out in a quaint little bistro with a cappuccino and a good book.”
“Of course you did, dear.” From the twinkle in her eyes and the soft pat on my hand, I knew she wasn’t buying it.
Maybe it would be best to let her think I had my eye on someone. So long as she didn’t ask me to bring the fantasy man home for dinner and a grilling. “Dinner?” I asked, steering the conversation back to a safer topic.
“Lamb, I think. I asked the kitchen to prepare those little rosemary potatoes you like so much. And I think it’s seafood to start…”
Tuning her out, I followed her downstairs.
“Grace, my dear. Looking beautiful, as always.” Uncle Sidney rose from his chair at our entrance, a broad smile on his face. He was a handsome man, his dark hair having a touch of silver at the temples that hinted at his age, but he had the broad shoulders and physique of a younger man. One of the perks of being a wolf shifter, I presumed.
Auntie was aging well too. Something I hadn’t noticed at first, but as a couple of years had passed little things had niggled at me. Finally giving in, I’d asked her. Her answer was the mating bond—the pairing of two souls and hearts in a mystical ritual. To put it simply, Uncle shared his life force with her and some of the benefits of being a shifter. Therefore, Auntie gets to retain her youth for longer. It sounded like a good exchange to me. Apart from the whole being mated to a shifter thing. I wasn’t so sure about that, seeing as I’d only recently started to feel comfortable in their world.
I took my seat at the extravagantly laid table, plucking up the napkin and laying it on my lap. Flo bustled in with the starter, her starched white apron gleaming in the soft light, the lines on her face deepening with pleasure as she surveyed what she liked to call her family. According to her long and plentiful tales, she’d arrived at the Firbright house at the same time as Lady Caroline, and had served the family ever since.
“How has your day been, Grace?”
Uncle’s voice pulled me back to the present. What was wrong with me? My mind was all over the place. I’m just stressed out and worried, that’s all. I picked up my knife and fork and sliced into a prawn. “It was pleasant, Uncle. I lunched with some friends, and then I browsed the shops in the afternoon. How was your day?” It was always the same, light small talk filled with pleasantries. I held back an eye-roll. We couldn’t possibly talk about anything with substance at the dinner table.
“Good, good. Business as usual.” He set his knife and fork down, his plate already clean.
“Business? Anything interesting?” I tried to keep my tone light and slightly bored.
“Actually, something was added to the agenda that I thought might interest you.”
My toes curled inside my shoes. This was it! He was going to share—
“A party has been arranged for the night after tomorrow—”
My heart sank. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t going to trust me with anything about the pack business.
“—in your honor.”
His words filtered through my dejection, transforming it to confusion. “My honor?”
He cleared his throat, his eyes sliding away from mine. Uncharacteristic for an alpha wolf.
A frission of adrenaline shot through me. What was going on?
“It’s time, my dear.”
Nope. Still not any clearer. “Time?”
“For you to secure a mate.”
“A mate?” I was sounding like a parrot, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “For me?” It came out in a squeak.
“For the Firbright line.” This time his eyes didn’t slide away; they pinned me firmly in place.
“But…but I’m not a Firbright!” I stammered, panic firing on all cylinders now.
“Maybe in human eyes you’re not. But in shifter society you are a part of the Firebright pack and therefore carry our name. And it’s nothing but a trivial legal document to take care of the name change in the eyes of human law.”
Static filled my ears, a high-pitched buzzing sounding inside my head. He wanted to take away my parents’ name? To mate me to a shifter? “What about what I want?” The words were out before I could stop them.
“I don’t have a choice, with Sid gone…” his voice trailed off, sorrow clouding his eyes and darkening them to a murky brown.
Across from me, a sob broke free from Auntie, her eyes filling with moisture.
I looked down, giving them their privacy. Dammit. I knew they didn’t mean to, but emotional blackmail—really?
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Flo enter the room. Her pale gray eyes took in the grim quiet and she backed away.
Aunt Caroline was the first to break the silence. “You could be really happy, my dear. Shifters have many wonderful qualities that human men don’t always have. Loyalty, strength, and kindness.”
Like a dog? I silenced the mental snicker, keeping my head down and eyes averted. I didn’t have anything against shifters. I’d just never imagined myself marrying one. Or mating one. Hell, I hadn’t even met a man yet, human or shifter, that I’d even contemplate spending more than one night with. Okay, maybe the man from this afternoon would get two nights. Or maybe three. But not a lifetime of nights! I had plans, things to do, a person I wanted to become. I wanted the whole shebang—including mind-consuming, heart-wrenching, earth-shattering love. A man that would stop me in my tracks and steal my heart, so I couldn’t live without him.
She continued, oblivious to my internal debate. “Shifter men are devoted to their mates and would do anything to make them happy. Quite often they’re extremely handsome, always fit and muscular, and let me tell you, they make amazing…lovers.” Her voice lowered to conspiratorial whisper on the last word.
“Caro!”
My eyes snapped up. Uncle’s face had flushed a deep red, but he tugged Auntie’s hand into his, his thumb swirling lazy patterns back and forth.
A thought hit me. “What if I’m not somebody’s mate?”
“What do you—?”
I interrupted, impatient to make my point. “If I’m not anyone’s true mate, then none of this matters.” I sat back in my chair, resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest. Better to appear open to the ridiculous idea, especially since I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t going to happen.
“Grace, dear, I know we’ve explained to you about true mates, and what that means, but that’s not the only way a shifter can take a mate.”
My mouth dropped open. Surely he couldn’t mean—?
“It would be an arranged mating.”
The fear was back, this time a tsunami washing through my veins. “I would be a broodmare?” I blurted the words out, too angry to filter them.
“Never a broodmare!” Uncle Sidney growled, his eyes flashing molten gold with his wolf.
His power reached out to sooth me, his need to protect and nourish his pack surrounding me like an invisible cloud of love. Sometimes, I forgot that he was much more than a human man, but not often.
“Any man that is lucky enough to have
you will treat you with respect and kindness and reverence.”
No mention of love, I noted. Figures. I tried to rearrange my face into one that didn’t look so petulant, but I was pretty sure my bottom lip quivered.
Uncle Sidney’s eyes softened, returning to the warm brown I had grown to love. “I did insist on one condition with the Council. You get to decide who. Candidates have been nominated though, so you’ll have to select from those.”
I latched onto the details, my head still spinning. It all sounded so…archaic! “The Shifter Council?”
He nodded, his shoulders relaxing as if he sensed my acceptance. “An arranged mating is sanctioned by the Council to ensure that both parties are agreeable. Contracts are signed.”
“This doesn’t happen with true matings?”
“True matings are determined by the heart and soul finding their perfect match. No one could stand between such a mating. Not even the Council.”
“And if my arranged mate meets his true mate, later?”
“All details are covered by the contract, my dear. Now, shall we have some lamb? I can smell it from here.”
As if by magic, the door opened and Flo hustled in weighed down by a big serving platter, the delicious scent of rosemary and oregano wafting from the tray.
Neon sign: discussion closed.
The whole idea had the sane part of me flapping in a mad panic, jumping up and down in a screaming hissy fit. But a small part of me was perfectly still, assessing and scrutinizing every scrap of information gleaned.
There was to be a party. The night after tomorrow. For me. With the Shifter Council.
The Shifter Council that was made up of the leading families, the same people who I’d bet my last dollar knew more than they were letting on about the people who’d gone missing.
It was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Chapter Three
Vin
“Christ, Vincent! Is that really you? When did you get back, you old dog?” Jeremy’s voice boomed out across the packed club, the deep sound managing to eclipse the pounding beat that had threatened to rupture my eardrums since entering the building.
Coming up beside him, I accepted the back-pounding one-armed welcome with an air of carefully affected nonchalance. When Jeremy released me, I shoved my hands into my pockets and surveyed the small group. “I was in the area, so I thought I’d drop in and see what my favorite band of miscreants has been up to.”
Not a lot, from the looks of things. Same faces, different venue.
“Where the hell have you been? Hasn’t been the same without you, man,” Jeremey said, signaling the waitress for another round.
Accepting the offered glass, I moved to slouch against the wall. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my jeans and T-shirt—though my jeans were distressed, just not due to fashion—everyone else looked like they’d walked into one of those fancy designer stores coated in superglue and rolled around naked.
I took a sip from my glass, the smooth whiskey burning my throat on the way down and setting a fire in my stomach. According to the intel we’d managed to cobble together, every missing person on our list was in some way connected with my group of old friends. They’d either hung out, fucked, or worked with one of them. And to say my old friends were selective was kind of an understatement. If you didn’t have money or connections, they didn’t know you. To put it bluntly: you didn’t exist.
Tossing back the rest of my drink, I slammed the glass down on the table. “I’m back now, so where’s the fucking party?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jeremy cried, sloshing amber liquid into my glass.
“So, where did you disappear to?”
I turned toward the voice. A man was sprawled in a low chair, his long legs taking up plenty of real estate. He had sandy-blond hair and thick dark eyebrows, one of which rose in an arch at my stare. It took me a second to place his face, then it clicked. “Freddie?”
The man nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips. “When you left I was just a boy, huh?”
Conversation carried on around us, the low murmur of male voices mixing with the high peal of feminine laughter.
“When did you start hanging around with this crowd?”
Freddie shrugged, glancing around at our group. “You either hang with the crowd, or…” He met my eyes, his voice trailing off.
I got it. Or you were nobody. Shunned.
He pushed himself up from his chair to join me in propping up the wall. Taking a swig of his beer, he let the bottle dangle from between his fingertips. “So…you left. Got out and away from being told what to do. Any good?”
Best thing I’d ever done. But I couldn’t say that, not if I wanted them to believe I was back for good. I opened my mouth, but at the look in his eyes the words died on my lips. Hope. For some reason the kid was looking to me to give him hope that there was more than this, that the big, bad world wasn’t quite so big and bad.
I settled for shrugging. And avoiding his eyes.
A broad, stocky man shouldered his way through the crowd, his lips peeled back in a sneer. “Finally decided to come back and face the music then?”
“Let it go, Jonathan—”
I cut Freddie off, pushing off the wall to face down the other man. “What music would that be, Jonathan?”
Jonathan squared up to me, puffing his chest out in a way that screamed ridiculous posturing. He was shorter than me by a good five inches, but he could probably give me a run for my money in the weight department. Dark hair, dark eyes and a slightly hooked nose, there was no mistaking his pack. First son of the Greenwall family.
“You think you can get away with it? Come back here and act as if we all don’t know what you did?”
I ignored the sickening churn in my stomach. I’d known full well this would happen, had expected it, but dammit I’d worked goddam hard to put all this shit behind me. I chose my next words for maximum effect. “I’m pretty sure I just did.” I curled my lip, staring him down.
He wasn’t that easily persuaded. “You ran away. After everything you did, you tucked your tail between your legs and ran,” he said in a low growl.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught Jeremy’s worried glance, then he was heading our way, forcing a slow path through the crowd.
Freddie cleared his throat, looking between us. “Easy, guys. It’s been five years—”
“What’s going on?” Jeremy had reached us. He took one look at my face and pulled Jonathan back by the arm. “Let’s not get into this. Not tonight. Come and have a drink—”
“This fucker thinks he can waltz back in here after everything that happened?” Resentment poured off Jonathan in waves, his eyes flashing to the bronze of his wolf.
I’d had enough of this bullshit. I curled my hands into fists, leaning into the other man. “I’ve come home. If you’ve got a problem with that, then let’s take this outside.” He didn’t stand a fucking chance. When I’d hung with this group full-time I’d had a bit of a reputation as a hard-ass. What they didn’t know was I’d gotten a lot meaner and a hell of a lot more skilled since then.
The glower on the other man’s face cleared, his mouth curling up into a shit-eating grin. “Fucking hell, Vincent, you’re still as easy to wind up as you used to be!” He slapped me on the back, then gave me a shove on the shoulder. “The past is gone, my friend. Not you, nor I, can change it, no matter what we fucking want. Now let’s have a fucking drink.”
I was still trying to recover from the whiplash, trying to convince myself that I didn’t really want to beat the shit out of him. I forced the tension from my body, rolling my shoulders back and shaking my hands out. “You nearly got pasted there, dickhead.”
“You could’ve tried.”
I accepted the outstretched beer. “You couldn’t take me five years ago. What makes you think you could now?”
“Just checking you hadn’t gone soft on us.”
I sneered, looking around at the rest of the group. “And what?
You guys haven’t? Drinking and partying all day—”
“That’s not all we do.” His voice was dismissive.
I glanced at him, taking a long swig of beer. Accepting the whiskey chaser, I checked out Jeremy and Freddie’s expressions. Blank. Too blank. “Are you going to make me ask?”
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer.
“You’ve only been back five minutes. Let’s celebrate you coming home first and we’ll talk another day. After all, you’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?” Jeremy interjected but he was watching me carefully.
“I bet your parents are glad to have you back,” Freddie added.
“I haven’t been to see them yet.” I nodded at Jeremy, hoping he’d read that as a yes, I’m staying.
“Aw, man. We mean that much to you?”
I forced a chuckle at Jeremy’s weak joke. I was telling myself that I’d come here first because of the mission. That I wasn’t putting off going home.
Jonathan’s hand landed on my shoulder, giving me a tug. “You remember the rest of the crowd, right? Tristin, Matthew, and William.”
I nodded at each in turn, tilting my beer in their direction. I remembered them, all right.
“And the girls; Synthia, Tamara, and Annabel.”
Eyelashes fluttered in my direction along with speculative gleams.
I treated them to a lazy grin. “How could I forget?”
Tamara unfolded her long limbs from the couch and stalked toward me. Flicking her jet-black curtain of hair over one shoulder, she didn’t stop until she was almost molded against me. “We’ve missed you around here, Vincent,” she purred, rising up onto her tiptoes and pressing her strawberry-scented lips to my cheek. “The ante just got upped, guys,” she called out as she sashayed back over to her seat.
“Ante?” I murmured to Freddie.
“The Council is suggesting that members of our peer group think about settling down.”