by Juno Blake
She had expected a looming castle. Something more like Ciaran’s forbidding lair. This was… civilized. Neatly pruned topiaries lined the drive up to the main doors, where golden light flooded across the mansion’s façade. It looked like something out of a Jane Austen adaptation.
Lucy pulled out her camera and lined up a shot of the mansion. The moon hung in the air just over the building. Not a full moon, of course. The moment she’d taken the job, she’d double-checked the lunar calendar. It was still a week before the moon would be full, and every werewolf in the world would feel its power transform their bodies into wolf form.
Every werewolf except Ciaran. Lucy frowned as she remembered. Ciaran could not fully transform into a wolf. He’d spoken as though it was a disability, but it had probably saved Lucy’s life. She had stumbled on his castle during the full moon. If Ciaran had transformed into a wolf, the beast would have ripped her into pieces. Instead…
Instead, Ciaran had transformed into a wolf-man, seven feet tall and immensely powerful. The wolf-man was Ciaran, not an animal—but a version of Ciaran with no self-control, no ability to restrain his instincts and base desires. A version of Ciaran who had ravished her without hesitation or compassion for her frail human body.
Lucy stared up at the gibbous moon. Ciaran isn’t here, she told herself. He’s still in his castle half a continent away. By the time the next full moon rolls around… hell, he’ll probably still be there.
She squared her shoulders and took the photo. Time to go inside. Remember, after tonight, you can leave all of this behind. Forever.
Lucy strode confidently up the drive, fine gravel crunching under her court heels. She’d borrowed the shoes and a little black dress off her housemate Sibby, who had a huge wardrobe for someone who lived in a glorified pantry. Sibby had a date that evening as well, and getting ready with her had been a lot of fun. Lucy didn’t realize how much she missed having close friends. Sibby had seemed equal parts nervous and excited, and Lucy hoped her date went well.
“Lucy Abbotsford?”
Lucy paused, one foot on the stairs that led up to the huge front doors. “Yes?”
“Oh, wonderful. I’m Katelyn.”
The curvy, dark-haired woman hurried down the steps, hand outstretched to shake Lucy’s. Lucy moved her camera to her left hand and shook.
“Pleased to meet you, Katelyn. I’m sorry if I’m a bit late—”
“Nonsense. You’re perfectly on time. And thank you for sticking to the dress code—you wouldn’t believe the people we get sometimes. Women who don’t make the cut as offerings, trying to get in by acting as staff… anyway.” She interrupted herself with a flash of a smile. “Shall I give you the tour?”
Katelyn showed Lucy around the rooms which had been prepared for the pack-meet. The main hall, the colonnaded pavilion that looked out onto the gardens—and the gardens themselves.
“I recommend you stay out of the gardens,” Katelynn said seriously. “Things can get… a little heated out there over the course of the evening.”
Lucy bit her lips on the thousands of questions that sprang into her mind. “I understand,” she replied. “Should I go back out front, now, to wait for the guests to arrive?”
Katelyn checked her watch. “Oh, God, yes! I hadn’t realized how late it was! Please go—Lady Blackpaw will have your head if you’re late to your post. Literally.”
Lucy blinked as Katelynn went pale. “O-kay. I’ll get going, then.”
“Yes—hurry!”
Lucy raced back to the grand front doors. What have I got myself into? she thought, her heart racing. Lady Blackpaw will literally have my head if I run late? Not just dock my pay, like a normal employer?
Lucy found a suitable spot at the bottom of the steps and straightened her dress as she waited for the first of the guests to arrive. The night air was refreshingly cool, and soft lights illuminated the path up to the mansion.
The first guests to arrive were all men. They wore beautifully tailored suits in dark colors, and all looked human. They barely glanced at Lucy as they walked past her camera, but she managed to get a few good candid shots in.
Then a black cab pulled up outside the gates, and a group of young women dressed all in white stepped out of it.
Lucy squinted, peering down the path through the growing shadows.
They must be the… what are they called? Lucy bit her lip. Bait? Sacrificial lambs? No, wait. What did Ciaran call them?
Pack-chasers.
That was what he had called her. Pack-chaser. As though she had been the one that hunted him down, instead of the other way around.
Another taxicab pulled up, with another group of young women. The new pack-chasers joined the first ones at the end of the drive, clustering together in groups of two or three.
Their white dresses were ankle-length, and they all wore their hair long and loose. Grouped together like that, Lucy would have expected them to be nervous, keeping together for safety—but then one of them looked up at the mansion and Lucy saw the expression of excited anticipation on her face.
She looked as excited as a high-school senior on her way to the prom. And, to her horror, Lucy recognized her.
“Sibby?”
Lucy’s blonde-haired housemate looked across at her. “Oh, my God! Lucy!”
Sibby whispered something to her friends and then skipped along the path to meet Lucy.
“What are you doing here?” Lucy asked her in a hushed voice. “I thought you had a date?”
“Oh, I do!” Sibby explained happily. “Damian. He’s already inside, I think. I’ve been seeing him for a few months, but now it’s time for me to meet the rest of his Pack. You know. In case…”
Her voice trailed off. Lucy frowned.
“In case what?”
Sibby’s eyes shone as she took Lucy’s arm and whispered in her ear. “In case our connection is more than just the usual human-werewolf infatuation. If he chooses me over all the women in here, and refuses to let any of the other wolves take me… then that means I’m his mate!”
She squeezed Lucy’s arm, squealing happily. Lucy just stared at her.
“The… infatuation?” she said slowly.
“Oh, you know. Werewolf fever. All of us pack-chasers have it. I guess if you didn’t want to end up with a werewolf, it would be a pain, but honestly? It is so hot.”
“Okay, sure, but what—”
Sibby sighed happily. “It’s true what they say. Once you go wolf, no human man will ever be enough. You just have to go to enough pack-meets to find your true mate, is all.” She flicked her long blonde hair back over one shoulder. “But Damian’s going to be my mate. I know it.”
She gave Lucy’s arm one final squeeze and darted back to her friends, calling over her shoulder:
“Lucy, take a photo of us all!”
Lucy stared after her, dazed. Sibby had only moved to London from her tiny home village a few months ago, and now she was skipping happily into a werewolf sex-party?
Lucy hoped Sibby knew what she was really getting herself into.
Hell, she hoped she knew what she was getting herself into. Could she really act as photographer tonight without getting involved?
Especially after what Sibby had just revealed to her. If human women became infatuated with werewolves after sleeping with them… then that must be what had happened to her.
Only half paying attention, Lucy shuffled the girls into place for a group shot. They all smiled and laughed for the camera. As she took the photo, Lucy’s mind was whirling.
Werewolf fever…
Lucy gulped. This explained why she hadn’t been able to get Ciaran out of her head. When he claimed her, he had woken something inside of her. Something that wouldn’t rest until a werewolf had taken her as his own.
She felt light-headed. If that was true… then tonight might be her chance to get Ciaran out of her head forever.
All she had to do was throw herself at the mercy of the pack.
<
br /> CHAPTER FOUR
Lucy’s head was still spinning when the last of the guests arrived and started walking up the path to the mansion. The final VIPs to arrive were a group of men, all dressed formally like the other male guests, in dark suits that strained over their muscular physiques. The flickering candle-light from inside the mansion cast strange shadows on their faces.
She raised her camera automatically, calculating angles and light. In the firelight, the men’s faces looked strangely animal, their eyes appearing to gleam an inhuman gold. It would make an amazing shot.
One of them noticed her movement and glanced her way. He was heavyset, his body thick with muscle. His nose had been broken and poorly set, healing flattened against his face, and his mouth seemed paralyzed in an unpleasant scowl.
His eyes flared gold as he looked at Lucy. Real gold, not just reflecting the firelight.
Lucy stepped back, her breath a hiss of shock. She didn’t know why she was surprised; she knew they must be werewolves, after all.
But those golden eyes reminded her so strongly of Ciaran, it was all she could do to keep her knees from collapsing beneath her.
The man turned to stare at Lucy full-on, openly ogling her. Lucy stiffened, regretting wearing such a form-fitting dress.
Her finger hit the shutter button, capturing the werewolf’s hungry leer.
“Group photo, sirs?” she raised the camera again with a tight smile. “Before you go in?”
The man who’d ogled her sneered. “Hell. She’s just staff.”
One of his friends punched him on the arm. “The help? Have some bloody class, Delauncey.”
The first one—Delauncey—sniffed, but didn’t take his eyes off Lucy. When she took the group shot, he didn’t smile.
After she took the photo, Lucy hung back, waiting for the men to go into the mansion. She didn’t like the look of Delauncey—or either of his friends.
Maybe I don’t have this werewolf fever, after all, she thought.
Or maybe even supernatural curses have some taste.
She walked carefully in through the huge front doors, through a cloakroom and into the main entrance hall. As she stepped into the hall she kept an eye out for Delauncey and his friends. Luckily, they were nowhere to be seen.
The hall was a grand room, lit by towering gold chandeliers. The floor was white marble and the polished stone caught the light, reflecting it back around the room.
Floor-to-ceiling marble columns gave the room a classical look. The far end of the hall opened out onto a beautiful open-air pavilion decorated with more columns, all dripping with lush ivy. Beyond the pavilion were the estate grounds.
The gardens were lit not by delicate chandeliers but by burning torches. Compared to the civilized mansions, they looked like something out of myth or legend. A dark, dangerous forest, where anything might happen.
Lucy realized she was staring wide-eyed at the dark gardens. She shook herself. It might look like a forest, but that was all. The trees were carefully pruned topiaries and figs, not the pine trees she ran through in her dreams.
She forced herself to focus on the hall around her. The Alpha’s guests were milling around, forming small groups, looking each other up and down with wary respect. Lucy walked around, invisible behind her camera as she photographed the guests.
There must be several Packs here, Lucy thought, noticing small differences between the werewolves. They were all richly dressed, but in slightly different fashions; some of the men were even wearing kilts, rather than the usual three-piece suit.
Most of the guests were men, but there were a few female werewolves present, as well. At least, Lucy assumed they were werewolves. They were all mature women, some greying, all festooned with jewels and wearing expensive gowns.
The other, younger women were not wolves, and clearly another sort of guest entirely. The pack-chasers. There were maybe a dozen of them, all dressed neck to toe in gauzy white, with their hair loose down their backs.
Some of them looked nervous, but most of them were practically vibrating with excitement. Lucy saw Sibby among them. She was looking around intently, as though searching for someone. Her boyfriend, Lucy guessed. The mysterious Damian.
Lucy slipped through the crowd as surreptitiously as she could, taking candid shots of the guests. Every now and then, she would take a shot that she thought looked normal, but see golden eyes staring through the lens at her. Hairs rose on the backs of her arms.
It was strange. This might have been any high-society cocktail event. Except for the occasional flash of golden eyes, all the guests looked human.
But although her eyes might be fooled, Lucy’s body could sense the animals lurking beneath the werewolves’ human forms. Her heart was racing, and the back of her neck prickled, as though someone was watching her.
A man who must have been in his late fifties, with silver streaking through his black hair, cleared his throat and began to address the crowd.
That must be the Alpha, Lucy thought, and took the opportunity to slip back into the shadows at the edge of the room. The hawk-nosed woman at his side must be Lady Blackpaw, and Lucy didn’t like the predatory glitter in the woman’s eye as she surveyed the crowd. Were her sharp eyes trying to catch out a poorly-performing employee to decapitate? Lucy didn’t want to wait around and find out.
Lucy made her way to the colonnade at the far end of the room. From here, she could take photos of the Alpha as he made his speech—and keep herself out of the way of the werewolves.
She leaned back against a marble column, letting out her breath slowly. Most of the male werewolves were fixated on the pack-chasers, who stood out like flags of surrender in their white dresses. But despite her black staff dress, she couldn’t help feeling that she was being watched, too.
Lucy only half-paid attention to the Alpha as he welcomed his guests to the pack-meet. His words wouldn’t have been out of place at a board meeting, until he got to the end.
“…I hope you will all enjoy the beautiful examples of womanhood who are offering themselves to you tonight. Some new to the hunt; some brought to the test by the wolf who broke them in.” He paused and raised his glass of champagne to Sibby, who blushed a pleased pink. “And all here for a common goal—to strengthen the Packs!”
The other werewolves all raised their glasses, too, and voiced their agreement—not with a cheer, but a howl that sent shivers down Lucy’s spine.
Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run, to escape this room of predators before she became their prey. But that instinctual fear was nothing compared to what she felt when a low voice whispered in her ear:
“Is that why you’re here, Lucy Abbotsford? To sacrifice yourself to the Blackpaw Pack? I must admit, you didn’t strike me as the sacrificial type.”
Lucy would have recognized that voice anywhere. Her breath caught in her throat and she stood, paralyzed, unable to move even the smallest muscle.
Ciaran Mallory.
She should have known he would find her eventually.
CHAPTER 5
Lucy took a deep breath. She glanced sideways, barely daring to turn her head.
Ciaran was standing at her shoulder. Lucy had no idea how long he’d been there.
How long this evening have you felt like someone was watching you? she asked herself, and shivered. Had he been watching her since she came inside?
But how had she not seen him come in? She’d been at the front door since the first guests started arriving.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked, his Scottish accent clipped.
Rage sparked white-hot in Lucy’s heart. “You!” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”
Ciaran raised one winged eyebrow. “What am I, a werewolf, doing at a pack-meet?”
His voice was amused, but the expression in his dark eyes was cold as ice. His cool control only made Lucy’s rage burn hotter. She stepped forward and jabbed his chest with her fore-finger.
“You’re not
part of this pack,” Lucy retorted. “Or any of the allied packs the Blackpaws invited. I checked. Do you really think I would have come if I thought you would be here?”
It was true. After she had chickened out from asking Katelyn Moir whether Ciaran was associated with her Pack, she had delved into the internet, determined to find out as much as she could.
She hadn’t been able to find much about Ciaran’s Pack, but she had confirmed that he wasn’t a member of any of the Packs the Blackpaws had invited tonight.
So why is he here?
Lucy narrowed her eyes and prodded him again. He grabbed her hand, black eyes glinting in the candlelight.
“I see,” he growled. “You thought you’d left me back in the castle, crippled and trapped in my silver cage? I’m sorry to disappoint. As it happens I’ve been the Blackpaws’ guest for the last week.”
Lucy tried to wrench her hand free, but Ciaran’s grip was too strong. Her heart thudded in her throat.
Ciaran leaned his head closer to hers. “The question is, what are you doing here? This is an Alpha’s den, sweetheart. There are no silver walls here for you to hide behind once you’ve had your fun.”
Lucy could have screamed. “I can’t believe it. You still think I intended everything that happened that night? I told you then and I’ll tell you again, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I wanted was shelter from the storm, and you—you—” Lucy bit her lip and groaned. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? What the last few months have been like? Every night of them?”
He was so close she could smell him. His hot, masculine musk filled her veins, sending urgent signals of pure need into her brain and body.
Lucy slammed her free hand into Ciaran’s chest, pushing him back. His eyes widened.
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice urgent.
“You heard me,” Lucy snapped. She put both hands on his chest, acutely aware of the solid muscles hidden under the fine fabric of his suit shirt and jacket. “You did this to me.” She pushed him backwards, away from the candlelit hall and garden-side pavilion, around to the side of the mansion where everything was wreathed in shadows. “This is all your fault…”