He had long suspected Cain wanted him gone. In the past year, Cain had openly opposed him. Had Cain not been related to him, Ethan would have eliminated him a long time ago for disturbing the pack dynamic. Undermining his role as the alpha was a grave offense. Had Cain succeeded in assassinating him, this woman, a mere human female, would inherit all his vast wealth and estate. Ethan could imagine how the rest would play out.
Nice try, cousin.
Ethan allowed himself to relax in his chair, playing as a man who had just recovered from a terrible accident. As the lesser houses came to congratulate him on his speedy recovery, Ethan made a mental note of who among his guests would likely conspire with his cousin. But they all appeared loyal to him. His family was revered because it carried the line of the alpha strain direwolf—the king of all werewolves. House Hunter had ruled the territory since the beginning.
“Alpha,” Graystone alarmed him when a new party arrived at the front door.
Ethan zeroed in his attention, but he could already guess who it was. He could recognize his cousin’s scent anywhere.
Cain was flanked by his entourage, escorting a young woman on his arm.
So that is my supposed bride, Ethan thought in amusement. He must applaud Cain’s guts for daring to continue the charade.
The guests parted, giving Cain and the woman wide berth as they made their way to where he was sitting. Cain looked normal with his usual jovial demeanor, but the woman seemed…terrified. She was beautiful, he must admit. Cain had chosen the type of female whom he liked. But the woman looked as if she was about to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. Her face was pale and her big innocent eyes looked like a prey animal about to be devoured.
His predatory instinct stirred alive.
This is interesting.
Cain went straight to him and delivered his bride with a theatrical flourish of his hand. “Alpha. Sookie had been in extreme distress since she learned about your accident. I collected her from Vegas as soon as I heard you were fit to receive guests.”
Ethan got up from the chair slowly. He could tell the woman would be ready to bolt if Cain wasn’t holding her arm. “Sookie?”
“My name’s Susan,” she explained. A quiver of fear tinged her voice. “Ethan, you really don’t remember me?”
Susan. Nickname is Sookie. How cute.
He took her hand and clasped it in his large hands. How curious it was that her hand was lined with calluses, not the type of hand belonging to someone who lazed around all day, never lifting a finger. Most curious indeed. “I’m sorry, baby. Part of my memory was lost because of the accident. But don’t worry. I’ll remember you soon enough. I must have had a good reason to marry you before I left Vegas.”
Color drained from her face—like she couldn’t be even paler. “I hope so, Ethan. I’ve missed you.”
Even her line sounded scripted. Ethan stroked her cheek and down to her shoulder. Fuck. She was really his type. He was a sucker for a curvy woman with pale skin and ample breasts. Her lush mahogany-colored hair was tied in a simple ponytail. He also a sucker for a woman in a red dress. The deep rouge of her silk gown clung on her buxom figure nicely. Her pale skin contrasted with the bold color of the fabric. Cain, you bastard. Where did he find a female foolish enough to play this dangerous game?
But there was something else that bothered him about this woman.
The beast in him reacted wildly toward her.
Was it her hair? Was it her face?
Her sumptuous body?
No. It was something else.
Her scent . . .
Ethan grabbed her neck and rubbed the skin under her chin. She startled. Yes. That is it. She was wearing too much perfume. Ethan lowered his head and sniffed her.
He almost lost it for a second.
It was no mistake. This female was his mate.
Sookie almost fell apart when she caught Ethan’s eyes. She couldn’t continue playing this lying game. Sensing her hesitation, the man formerly known as Suit—who Sookie now knew as Cain Hunter—fondly reminded her what would happen to Jesse if she failed to convince everyone she was Ethan’s wife.
For the last ten days, she had been drilled about everything regarding Ethan. His favorite food. His favorite color. His pet peeves. And the Hunter family history. Sookie studied them tirelessly. She thought she was prepared, but the moment they met face-to-face, nervousness seized her in a tight grip.
Ethan Hunter scared the bejesus out of her.
She almost had a heart attack when Ethan grabbed her neck and rubbed his thumb over her skin. She caught Cain’s warning eyes and sobered instantaneously. She didn’t dare move a muscle. What is he doing? Does he know that I lie? Is this normal behavior for a wolfman?
Then, Ethan did the darndest thing. He sniffed her. Why did he do this? Is it common behavior among werewolves? Dogs sniffed each other’s butts as greeting, and since domestic dogs were direct descendents of wolves, this sniffing business may be a typical canine quirk.
Still.
Holy hell, this is freaking weird.
When Ethan got ahold of himself, something changed in his eyes. She really couldn’t tell from his expression. His eyes were steely. A smirk faintly curved at the corner of his mouth. She hoped that he bought this deception. The fate of her brother depended on it.
“Alpha, you’re scaring her,” Cain admonished this man who he claimed as his cousin.
Ethan pulled back. “Forgive me. I’m just not fond of roses,” he said.
Sookie glanced at Cain for help. This bastard forgot to tell her that Ethan hated roses. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go wash off this perfume right away. Excuse me.” She couldn’t wait to extricate herself from this situation.
Ethan snagged her arm. “Graystone will show you to the powder room. I’d like you to wait for me in my chamber afterward.”
Her blood ran cold. Being alone with this dangerous man was the prospect she dreaded. It was unavoidable. Technically, Ethan Hunter was her husband. She prayed that he wasn’t a brute of a man. Cain was a bastard and a sadist. He had physically hurt her during her training. One time, Cain almost flipped out when she couldn’t remember Ethan’s mother’s name. Cain’s fist flew in her stomach, causing her to double over, retching. Cain never hit her face. He didn’t want to present damaged goods to his alpha.
Not trusting her own voice, she inclined her head and mouthed a silent thank you.
Graystone, a fierce-looking and formidable man like his alpha, offered his arm and escorted her to the lady’s room.
The Lunar Manor was built at the turn of the century with grandiosity in mind. The Gothic influence heavily oozed from its design: cathedral ceilings, gilded moldings, and intricate woodwork in every nook and cranny. It even boasted a grand staircase that led to the second floor. It was ornately carved by masters of the bygone era and looked as if it came straight from a movie set. If her situation wasn’t that dire, Sookie would love gawking at the place. She loved castles and this manor looked like one.
A few guests stopped their chattering to watch her with contempt and curiosity. Sookie pretended she didn’t see them. Cain told her werewolves weren’t fond of humans. Personally, she didn’t mind. She didn’t like werewolves either.
The beta walked her through a corridor and showed her the powder room. The floor was covered with plush carpeting that muted the sound of her heels.
The powder room looked fancier than her own home. “This is the restroom?” Sookie asked just to make sure.
He acknowledged her with a faint nod. Graystone seemed also a man of few words apparently. She hadn’t seen him talking at all.
She pushed the door and was relieved that it was empty. She put down her purse and turned on the hot water. When she looked at herself in the mirror, her face was bloodless pale. If she didn’t wear lipstick, people would think she was sick.
With a hand pressed against the pit of her stomach, she took several shuddering breaths, chanting a calming mant
ra in her head. She was feeling sick earlier. She almost lost her wits. It was a miracle that she was able to hold herself together.
You have to do this.
For Jesse...
Sookie took her time, washing traces of the perfume from her neck and shoulders that she had dabbed on a little earlier. She guessed a wolfman like Ethan had a sharp sense of smell. She wondered if he could sense her fear. Even though she found him scary, he was more cordial than his jerk cousin.
She was surprised that Graystone still waited for her in front of the powder room. “Sorry,” she muttered as the beta herded her to the alpha’s chamber.
She started getting cold feet.
Would he demand sex from her? After all she was his wife. She dreaded the prospect. Not because Ethan was homely or something. It was the opposite. Ethan was one hell of a good-looking man. He was the epitome of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome; he was Adonis carved in flesh. Had they met in different circumstances, Sookie wouldn’t mind having a one-night stand with him.
Ethan himself was a sight to behold.
His towering height intimidated those around him and his sinewy bulk gave off a daunting presence that he wasn’t one to be trifled with. His eyes were the color of amber and his hair black as midnight. He was clad impeccably in a black bespoke suit with a black shirt, black tie, and black shoes. She guessed his favorite color was black.
Graystone opened the double French doors that revealed a tastefully furnished room. Unlike the rest of the mansion that was heavily influenced by gothic décor, Ethan’s chamber seems like something out of a decorating magazine. Whomever Ethan had hired as his interior designer had done a great job. Painted with a masculine color scheme and fitted out with modern furniture, Ethan’s private sanctum looked classy.
Still mum, Graystone pointed to where she should sit. He then excused himself and closed the doors for privacy. The dread intensified. Sookie felt as if she was waiting for her execution. She’d never been this nervous in her life.
She wound her way to an ottoman near the fireplace and sat.
Okay, calm yourself, Sookie. Nothing wrong is going to happen as long as you stick to the script. He has amnesia. You have to convince him that you are really his wife. Vegas fling. What happened there didn’t always stay in Vegas. The two of you met at a casino, had one too many and raced to bed without your clothes. Only when they sobered up the next day did they both realize that they were married.
A simple scenario.
A plausible scenario.
In the afternoon, Ethan hastily headed to Chicago, flying his own plane. The rest of the story left a bad taste in her mouth.
During her confinement in Cain’s safehouse, one day after she and her brother were caught in the cemetery, she overheard Cain learn that Ethan survived the assassination. Cain was furious. Thankfully he didn’t lash out at her. But Cain must have changed his plan. Originally, she was to play a distraught widow at Ethan’s funeral. And when the succession was done, Cain was going to give her brother the antidote and set them free.
Ethan’s survival had wrecked Cain’s grand plan.
Now instead of masquerading herself as a widow, she was forced to play a concerned wife. When she asked Cain how long she must continue faking as Ethan wife, Cain said as long as she needed. She had no doubt that Cain would try to have Ethan killed again. Sometime in the near future. Right now, Cain wanted her to play her part and keep a low profile.
Sookie put the designer purse that Cain had bought on her lap and gripped it tightly. She had to make this work. She had to. There was no other choice. She hoped her brother would stay strong until she was able to obtain his cure.
Then…
No, she shook her thoughts. One crisis at a time.
She startled from her deep thoughts when the doors were opened and Ethan Hunter strode in. She instinctively squelched her urge to flee. She felt as if she had been forcefully shoved into a dangerous animal cage, left to fend for herself. From now on, her future depended on her wits.
Sookie stood up, smoothing her gown. “Ethan…” Her word trailed off quietly. Her stomach knotted. Her anxiety bred a nausea in the pit of her stomach. What should I say to him? Should I ask about his accident? What if he doesn’t want to discuss it? Oh please God, don’t let him hurt me. Ethan looked like he could snap her neck with very little effort.
Unexpectedly, Ethan was genial. “Sorry for the wait,” he said in a pleasant tone. “I was held up by a few guests.”
Sookie swallowed an invisible lump in her throat. “I don’t mind.”
He closed their distance with two long strides. She unconsciously stepped back.
“What’s wrong? Did I scare you?” he asked.
Yes. You fucking scared me. It’s a miracle that I haven’t wet myself yet. Sookie forced a smile. “N-no. It just that everything happened so fast, I barely could wrap my mind around this.”
“My accident?” he asked solicitously.
“The marriage. And the accident too.”
Ethan tugged her chin up to meet his face. “Change your mind? Buyer’s remorse?”
“No, not that. It’s just—”
“That I’m a shifter?”
Yeah, that makes sense. Cain didn’t tell her if she should remain oblivious about Ethan’s true nature. Damn. She needed her cheat sheet really, really bad. “I, uhm …”
“Did I forget to tell you when we got married?”
Where’s the freaking cheat sheet? “Uhm, to be honest that night was kinda hazy.”
“Didn’t Cain explain to you when he picked you up in Vegas?”
She didn’t go anywhere near Vegas. In fact, she had never left Illinois in her life. “C-Cain told me.”
“And?”
“I was surprised.”
Ethan caressed her jawline dotingly. “Hmm. We usually dispose of humans who discover our secret. Luckily, you married me.”
Does this mean he will kill me if I’m no longer his wife? Can I ask for a divorce? Does that even seem possible? Cain didn’t brief her about this. That sniveling bastard. Damn dog. I hope he chokes on his kibbles and dies.
“Still scared?”
She couldn’t answer.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite you.” He winked. “Not unless you want me too.”
Her eyes widened. Is he joking? Is he even capable of telling jokes? Does Wolfman even tell jokes? Ethan seemed like one of those men with a chip on his shoulder as big as a small moon. Perpetually broody, always tense like a cello string ready to snap.
Sexy but scary.
“Relax, you look stressed out.” He withdrew his hand and stepped back, scrutinizing her from head to toe. Sookie felt like she was rooted where she stood. He turned around and walked to the minibar, a beautiful piece of a credenza disguised as a refrigerator that held all kind of beverages. “Do you want something to help you to relax? Whiskey, perhaps?”
She almost said she didn’t drink, but she caught her mistake. They supposedly got hammered so badly in Vegas they didn’t remember getting hitched in one of Sin City’s many chapels. “Vodka if you have it. Two fingers,” she said boldly. She was never a drinker but on an occasion like this she needed something potent to dull her nervousness.
“Vodka it is.”
She sat back on the ottoman while he fixed their drinks.
“Come over here by the couch,” he called, putting the glasses on the coffee table. “It’ll be more comfortable.” He then shrugged off his dinner jacket and draped it on the armrest and loosened his tie. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing tan skin beneath.
Here we go, the interrogation cometh. The judgement followeth.
She joined him. Ethan handed her the vodka. He himself had poured some amber liquid in his shot glass. Scotch perhaps. Or bourbon. Whiskey? She didn’t know much about booze.
Ethan lifted his glass and tipped his head at her. They toasted. He downed his while she choked on hers on first sip. The last time she tried booze w
as when she was in college. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like the taste. Hated the hangover.
She coughed, spluttering.
“Too strong?” he inquired. He took the glass from her.
She nodded between her coughs. Shit. Is he going to believe that she was really drunk that night? Just say I’m a light drinker, she thought. That’s believable, right?
“Do you want something light, perhaps? A non-alcoholic beverage? I can send someone to make it for you.”
“I’m fine. That’s not necessary. Thank you.”
He watched her with an unreadable expression as he made himself comfortable. A pregnant silence stretched between them. “Susan, if I may be frank, I have no recollection of our time together in Vegas. The fact that I married you makes me think we must share something special between us. Can you tell me what you remember about that night?”
She knew that type of question would eventually come. She rehearsed the best possible answer a dozen times in her head, but then, she thought the best lies were something closer to the truth. “I honestly didn’t remember much. I’m a light drinker, you know, so after that second martini, I just… Let’s just say I wanted to party. I saw you sitting by the bar and I thought, what the hell? I asked you if you’d like to buy me drink and then—”
“You asked me to buy you drink?”
Eeek. Is he suspicious? “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It’s not like a guy like you’d buy someone like me a drink.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know…” Hot guys usually paid attention only to hot girls and she was none of that. Her brown hair was too mousy. Her skin too pale. And her figure was far from Hollywood’s beauty standard. Sookie made some vague gesture. “I’m not the standard pretty blonde,” she offered.
“I prefer dark-haired woman.” He leaned closer. “And then?”
“Huh?”
“After I bought you a drink? I assume I bought you a drink.”
“Yeah. That. Sorry, that’s where my memory gets hazy.”
“Your room or mine?”
“Sorry?”
“I assume we fucked that night. Did we wake up in your room or mine?”
Soul of the Wolves Page 3