Mated to the Prince (Portal City Protectors Book 3)

by Georgette St. Clair

  “Lead on, hound. Let’s see where my errant packmate has gone.”

  He lifted a brow at “hound” and glared at her use of “my errant packmate,” but she didn’t soothe his ruffled feathers. He had Fabiana for that. The spineless prick.

  Fabiana was everything Giuliana should have been. Soft and delicate, something in need of protecting, and yet sexy and all woman at the same time.

  Giuliana couldn’t compare.

  “Stay downwind of me and follow. A scenter retraces a target’s movements until they reach them.”

  She only nodded, still too angry, too bitter, too fucking hurt to give him any words. He lifted one hand to reach for her, but she jerked away. No, there wouldn’t be a repeat performance of earlier. She’d had her blinders ripped off, and the sting would remind her not to fall again.

  “She—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “You think I’d—”

  “I said I don’t.”

  Pasquale went silent, a mulish expression on his face. Good for him. “This isn’t over. Keep up.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  Pasquale was gone, streaking out her front door with mind-blowing speed. She got her wits about her fast enough to follow, stopping long enough to lock her door and clip on her go bag.

  Giuliana may not be a scenter, but that didn’t mean her wolf’s nose wasn’t good. She picked up on Pasquale’s scent and followed behind him as fast as she could. Traveling from the inner sanctum of their lands to the gates took a dizzying short amount of time, and her lungs labored from the abuse.

  She wasn’t built to run like a scenter, to track tirelessly in the night. She could maintain her top speed for thirty minutes before she had to slow down, but trailing Pasquale had pushed her beyond that. At his pace, she’d have maybe only half her usual top-speed time.

  How the hell is he so quick?

  She didn’t know, but she was through the gates in record time, sliding out at the exit and heading right. The Greenwald rose in the distance, massive trees just on the other side of the thorny rose bushes that twisted and covered the borders of pack lands. They’d never been able to remove Romano’s and Zoey’s Miracle Grow magic and now had a second barrier of defense around the walls. Where there had once been a wide expanse of no-man’s land between themselves and the Greenwald, there was now only a thin strip of open area about two car lengths wide.

  She sucked in a deep breath, rushing oxygen to starving cells as her lungs labored to sustain her and sweat beaded down her forehead. She should have brought the damn car.

  She could fool herself into believing she’d left it because exhaust fumes messed with a scenter’s nose when they tracked, but she knew she’d done it because Pasquale couldn’t stomach being in one. Even when she was fucking pissed at him, she still thought of what would bring him comfort.

  If this was what mating did to a wolf, they could count her out of it.

  Giuliana wanted to fight him, to get to the bottom of things instead of thinking of him and wondering why. As much as she acted like she did, she didn’t actually interact with others on an emotional level very well. Even Zoey and Kalinda looked at her as a babysitter who could make them laugh when the time called for it and protect them when needed.

  She’d never had a friend like the way they were together. And she had to admit she was sort of jealous that Silva—a freaking Fae queen—had blended in so well, even being new to the group. Giuliana always seemed to be fighting for a place to belong, to be accepted completely for who she was.

  It sucked.

  She followed Pasquale’s scent to the left, heading into the thick of the Greenwald. At least the cool shelter from the trees would help. The darkened interior of the woods was a balm against her heated flesh, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes adjusted to the change in light as she sniffed to get information from the world around her.

  Rabbits to the left. Deer farther downwind, dead center. Life. Her wolf yipped inside, more comfortable here in this space than in the confines of her home. Even with making it as open as she could, there was nothing like the damp darkness of the forest.

  Run?

  Giuliana reached for her wolf, happy to give up the muddled thoughts of her human side and give fresh lungs a chance to take over. Her wolf sprang forward, wrapping her in love and care so she could sit back for the ride. Yes, she could see through her wolf, smell the hard earth beneath her paws, but she could also sink into her wolf and let her run wild. She held the picture of Pasquale in her head, those intertwining scents, and her wolf followed them.

  A branch snapped and her wolf spun, her flexible spine helping her flip in the air and land on her feet facing the threat. A massive white wolf stepped out of nowhere, and she immediately knew the branch was done on purpose. The wolf was too silent, too composed, for such a mistake. Twice her size, and more powerful by far, the wolf lifted its muzzle to the sky and howled.

  It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

  A call of the wild.

  A cry for being home.

  Her throat worked for the chance to join, to lift her head and join the song, but she fought against it.

  Pasquale.

  Pretty.

  If you roll over and open your legs from him, I won’t shift for thirty years.

  Her wolf sighed, but Giuliana stood her ground. Instead of joining his cry, she balanced her paws wider, lowering her eyes to the side of his head, and snarled.

  Unfazed, Pasquale approached her, ears alert and tail high. There was no fear, no hesitation. He was so sure of himself, so controlled.

  Hello, pretty girl.

  What the fuck? That wasn’t her voice or her wolf’s that just rang in her head.

  Pasquale exposed his teeth. I know you can hear me.

  Pasquale?

  Not exactly.

  Her wolf pushed her consciousness aside, brushing past her.

  What do you want?

  He’s hurting.

  So is she.

  He didn’t mean it.

  Who is she?

  Packmate.

  Duh. Try again.

  The white wolf shook his head, and Giuliana sat back, wide-eyed. She’d never heard of wolves communicating this way.

  Pasquale’s wolf sat down on his haunches. Fabiana is … littermate.

  That explains it. Okay.

  Wait. No, that didn’t explain shit as far as Giuliana was concerned, no matter what her wolf thought. Littermate and packmate were the same thing. How the hell was that an explanation?

  Can I mate with you now? I’ve never seen a wolf so red.

  Um, no. And red? She wasn’t red. She looked down at her fur. Yeah, it was sort of burgundy under the black, but she wasn’t red.

  Yes. I’ve been waiting.

  Wrong again! She fought with her wolf as said beast lowered the front of her body to the ground but kept her ass in the air, tail high.

  Not happening!

  Let him. Mine!

  No, you slut. I don’t understand.

  Giuliana swore her wolf rolled her eyes. Let the children speak. They don’t seem to understand.

  Can I mate you after?

  Yes.

  No!

  Giuliana exploded from her wolf, shifting fast enough to leave her lightheaded and swaying. Strong hands gripped her arms and steadied her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Pasquale?”

  “Yes. I … apologize for my wolf. He can be pushy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Pasquale kept his hands on her, his finger tracing circles on her skin.

  She liked how that felt.

  “I’m going to tell you something no one knows outside my pack because my wolf was at least right about one thing.”

  “You are not mating me right now.”

  “At least you said right now.” She growled in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle. “I get it. Fabiana was
the woman you smelled, but it isn’t what you think.”

  “Well, here’s your chance to explain it. We don’t have time, and we’ve delayed things long enough. The sooner we get back, the faster we can end all of this.”

  “She’s my sister.”

  What? “Is … is that what the wolf meant by littermate?”

  Pasquale nodded. “For us, the whole pack is family, though we can recognize who we share blood with. The wolf’s only way to describe it was to link it to litters.”

  “He meant that literally. Wait, your sister?”

  Pasquale smiled softly. “My younger sister. I was raised to be my father’s weapon, not his Alpha. That would mean he’d have to give up power, and he wasn’t willing to. Fabiana was easier to control.”

  Open mouth and insert foot. She really did suck at this, and she’d allowed her fears and self-doubts color her understanding instead of just asking first. Giuliana knew not all Alphas shared a bloodline with previous ones. The strongest wolf would always rule, but in a lot of cases, a child of an Alpha would prove to be one as well. It made sense why Pasquale was so strong. But … Fabiana.

  Shit. “She’s one of those used women, isn’t she? That’s why you got so upset.”

  “My father thought her beauty would be useful. Intelligence and power were not. He made sure she knew how to hide very well who she wanted to be.”

  Well, damn. Now Giuliana felt like shit. The girl was obviously not being taken for who she was, most of the Lombardi Pack hated her, and she’d never be comfortable in a place where she had been intricate in plans of a coup.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Pasquale sighed. “I should have explained better, but I’m used to not claiming her for who she is. It wasn’t until my father died that we could even act as siblings. Our people knew, but they were too afraid to go against what my father demanded.”

  And Giuliana had given in to the prejudice she had against his pack—especially Fabiana. She wasn’t naïve to think a simple explanation would smooth things over with many of the pack, but at least she could help it be easier.

  “I’ll talk to Dominic about her. Zoey’s always about the underdog; I know she’d help too.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when it comes out my father had a son, they will start looking at me as possible challenge to Romano or Dominic. It’s the way of our kind. How long before you think they’d want to push us out?”

  He was right, of course. They may walk on two legs, but the wolf inside them would see the power as a challenge, even if the other male wasn’t interested in taking position.

  “I can see why you said nothing.”

  “I’m only telling you so you understand something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Claimed or not, you are the only woman I will ever worry about when it comes to being the match for me or my wolf. Claimed or not, you will always have me behind you. This life may have fucked us in having what we wanted, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you.”

  Swoon.

  Shut up, wolf!

  But she was right. Pasquale, for all the weight on his shoulders, was everything Giuliana could have hoped for in a mate. And if this was all they could have, so be it.

  Chapter Seven

  Heath’s trail overlapped in the Greenwald several times over, slowing them down and spinning them in circles. Pasquale grew frustrated. He trusted his nose and knew it wouldn’t steer him wrong. The man had been through here. But the skill with which the scent was laid so pristinely worried him.

  What if they were off track?

  It was possible for a scenter to lose a trail, but it usually was obliterated by water, exhaust, or magic. They hadn’t crossed any riverbeds yet, though he could hear them, and obviously no motorized vehicle could travel through the Greenwald. The trees were too densely packed that at times he had to slip through sideways to make it. There were only a few places that allowed for open space on the ground.

  And as the sun began to set, he was worried Giuliana may not be able to continue.

  She kept quiet, letting him lead, and followed him without complaint, but he wasn’t sure she could handle the path like a scenter. For one of them, the scent was all that mattered. Heath’s signature was odd, barbed with dark undertones and vegetation Pasquale couldn’t quite put his finger on. When he took in the young man’s clothes in his room, the scent stayed on the back of Pasquale’s tongue in heightened receptors scenters had to use for reserve—much like hounds used the tips of their ears as they dragged them along the ground.

  When a scenter caught a scent, he couldn’t let it go until he tracked it to where it stopped, like an obsession. Normal wolves needed time to rest.

  Still … the scent aggravated him.

  Tracer is going in circles.

  Pasquale slid to a stop, his chest heaving as he took in great gulps of air. His wolf was right. There were tracers—scent markers people didn’t know they left behind—everywhere. A brush against a tree here, broken branches with minute skin cells attached, the grit of bare feet on ground leaving fading heat. It was the perfect attraction for a scenter. A lure.

  “Dammit,” Pasquale cursed.

  “What is it?”

  Pasquale growled, red-hot anger filling his veins. Giuliana stood off to the side, leaning against a tree with her arms folded across her chest. It was a comforting stance, but one he could tell she needed. Her scent was alive with fatigue, her mouth pinched and her nostrils flaring.

  Darkness surrounded them, wrapping them in the eerie silence only the night brought. It was … new, having someone with him while he worked. He wasn’t used to explaining things, and even more so uncomfortable because he’d have to tell her he couldn’t track him.

  He threw back his head and gave in to his nose. The world opened up, brilliant marks of colors and whirls of scent. A normal wolf couldn’t do this, see an environment like paint on canvas. The trail of a bunny’s flight wound through the trees in a faint blue. A deer’s race away from the predators he and Giuliana represented dashed out in frantic purple. The night was vibrant and bright with colors, interlocking stories of their lives, imprints of their existence on earth.

  This was what it meant to be a scenter, to see what others could not, to know the world in ways others could never understand. Heath’s tracer was a swathe of dark black glittering in the moonlight with threaded silver. It was corded, wrapped, and bundled with spiking green. Pasquale had never seen a scent like that. He reached out and gripped the strands between his fingers.

  This was something for him, a gift of his Alpha lineage mixing with his innate scenter calling. His Alpha gift, always hidden, didn’t have to be masked with Giuliana. It was freeing, being able to use what was his in the presence of another wolf other than his pack. He’d suppressing it for so long, never giving it a chance to break through the chains he wrapped around it. Now, he let it loose, riding along the trail while he stood still.

  His eyes burned, and he knew they glowed with his power. Giuliana sucked in a breath, and he smiled. This is me, mate. This is who I really am.

  “I need your nose,” he called to her.

  She stepped forward gingerly. “How can I help?”

  “I’m bombarded. Heath’s signature is all around me. I need a non-scenter’s other senses to help balance it.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Just come here.”

  When she was within reach, Pasquale used his free hand to pull her in front of him, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her, caging her close. He then gripped Heath’s tracer in both hands and rested his chin on Giuliana’s shoulder.

  “Let your wolf reach for mine.”

  He’d never done this with another wolf besides Fabiana, but he was sure his mate would fit in just well enough.

  Wolf, help her bridge.

  His wolf snorted. Feel. She doesn’t need help.

  “O
h my gods!”

  Is this what you see?

  Giuliana’s wolf had a smoky, erotic voice that made his wolf shudder inside him. The connection between their human counterparts only made it so the wolves were closer. Pasquale laughed, joy spreading through him. He could see them! Both wolves, his own larger white wolf hovering protectively over Giuliana’s reddish-black wolf. They played in the scents, sending sparks up like fireflies in the night, illuminating the darkness with information.

  Snake.

  Deer.

  Mages came this way, but they’re gone.

  The wolves shot back and forth what they sensed, and Pasquale pulled Giuliana closer, using her gifts to heighten his. She was strong, so strong, of Alpha lineage as well. He didn’t know how he hadn’t made that connection before.

  She was the niece of Arturo Moretti, from a sister long gone—one many didn’t speak of—but the same blood ran in her veins. What she didn’t have in gifts like him, she had her own. Her wolf lifted its head, searching, reaching.

  Giuliana did the same, and it was the most beautiful moment he’d ever experienced in the middle of the forest.

  “Blood.”

  Someone is hurt.

  The statements came from her and her wolf at the same time. He remembered Giuliana’s gift was for healing. She reached for his hands, the warmth coming from her filled with her power.

  “Along this line is blood,” she whispered.

  “You can see the scent?”

  “I see it all.”

  “Look at me.”

  When she did, he sucked in a breath. Giuliana was glowing, her eyes as red as the underside of her coat. The color permeated, the same rust hue of what she sensed.

  “Show me,” he ordered.

  Using her to extend his control, he yanked on the scent to straighten it so it would lead them where they had to go.

  “Run with me but stay connected.”

  Giuliana only nodded as they sprang forth, humans and wolves, keeping sight on the tracer they followed. She moved with the same determination as a scenter, tirelessly, giving herself over to the hunt.

  She’s a healer, and she’s as driven as you to do what she’s meant for.

  He agreed with his wolf, following her stead and keeping them on track. Each step was silent. They were predators, meant to stalk this sort of terrain and pick apart their prey. Never, in all his years, had he heard of a connection quite like this.