by RJ Blain
“Waiting for the clock to hit midnight so you can find your charming prince?”
“Perhaps.”
“Had I known such a beautiful lady was attending tonight, I would have dressed more for the occasion,” he said, leading me across the ballroom to a bar taking up one of the far corners. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you into some champagne?”
“No, but thank you.”
The bar had stools enough for thirty, most of which were unoccupied. Edward picked a pair, pulling one out for me before sitting. There was a trick to climbing onto a stool in a short dress without flashing my lingerie at everyone, and I pulled it off with the grace and dignity of a woman born into high society.
Edward’s disappointment marred his expression, although he recovered with respectable speed.
I regretted my lack of glass slippers. If I had them, I knew exactly where I’d shove them. Despite my refusal, he ordered two flutes of champagne, sliding one to me.
“It wouldn’t be much of a party without at least one drink, Miss Sara.”
I spun my finger around the rim of the flute and made the crystal sing. “So I see.”
“What is such a gorgeous woman doing a party like this on her own?”
If he wanted to play the flirting game, I’d play—and leave him the eternal loser. “Perhaps I’m waiting for my prince charming to show himself at midnight.”
“Perhaps you’ve already found him.”
I wanted to brace my elbows on the bar, but to maintain my role as a lady, I settled for lightly resting my wrists on the polished surface, toying with my flute of champagne. “What brings you here tonight, Edward?”
“What brings any of us out to one of these parties? Perhaps I need a Cinderella to share my empire with.”
“And what sort of empire do you have?” I replied, fighting my urge to throw my champagne in Edward’s face.
“Guess,” he murmured, sipping from his glass.
“You were born into a wealthy family,” I stated, pushing my champagne away from me and straightened my back as I swiveled to face him. I met his gaze before looking him over head to toe. “You’re well spoken, which tells me you’ve been to the type of school only the truly affluent can afford. A private boarding school, and judging from the slight bit of accent, somewhere abroad. Your first choice of drink is champagne, so you’re from old money, a true blue blood in every sense of the word.”
I smiled at his startled expression. “You’re likely the eldest son of a businessman, who was the eldest son of a businessman, passing on knowledge, experience, and a true empire from generation to generation.”
“You’re even more enchanting than I initially believed. How astute, Miss Sara. What else have you deduced? You’re correct thus far. I’m impressed.”
“You hate champagne because it’s too sweet, but you don’t dare ask for the scotch you prefer,” I commented, sliding off the stool, once again careful of my short little cocktail dress. “Cinderella prefers men who take their drinks straight up and listen when she says no.”
I turned to leave and came nose to nose with my mate. I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening as he seized my hand and brought it up to his lips.
“I heard a rumor the world’s most beautiful woman was in attendance tonight, but I hadn’t thought it was true,” he murmured, his eyes blazing amber. “Then to discover she’s Cinderella as well? What good fortune.”
My mouth went dry as I gaped at Sanders, unable to string two thoughts together to form a coherent sentence. With a gentle touch, he placed one hand against the small of my back and pulled me closer to him, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile.
“Is he bothering you, Cinderella?” my mate asked, his gaze turning to Edward.
Instead of running, Edward straightened, his eyes narrowing. “I? You believe I would bother her? You, sir, are the bother. Do you know to whom you speak?”
“I know who you are, Mr. Salind. I spoke with your father not five minutes ago in one of the salons. He requests your presence as soon as you’ve finished flirting. You missed some rather important business negotiations, although you might be able to make yourself useful if you can be bothered to attend to your responsibilities.”
When Edward made his escape, muttering curses under his breath, my mate grumbled, “Babbling idiot.”
“Sanders,” I whispered, brushing my fingers across his clean-shaven cheek.
Turning his attention back to me, he kissed my palm. “When the gossiping hens were clucking over the beauty in attendance, I, of course, had to see who could possibly be more beautiful than my Sara.”
I lowered my gaze to my mate’s suit, admiring the way it clung to his body, hinting at his lean muscles. With him touching me, the smothering pressure of the pack faded until only a faint but tolerable chill remained.
“There’s probably at least a hundred people staring at us right now,” he said, his tone light with his amusement. “You, by far the loveliest creature ever to grace this planet, are standing so docile and demure in the arms of a man they likely consider an uncouth lout.”
“Bullshit.”
Tilting my chin up, he pressed his lips to mine, and unable to resist him, I stepped close, delighting in the feel of him against me. When he pulled away, he left me as breathless as always. “Now they know you’re mine, woman.” He paused and sighed. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”
I huffed. “I forgot how long of a drive it was to the Hamptons,” I confessed.
“The strangest thing happened earlier today. I received an interesting package, which smelled remarkably like you.”
“Do you like them?” I asked, grinning at him.
“I’ll like them a lot better when you’re wearing them,” he growled at me.
“Tomorrow,” I promised.
“You’re an evil temptress, woman.” His eyes brightened to a burning yellow. “So, where did you come from that it took you so long to arrive?”
“Oh, some little hotel somewhere near Fifth Avenue,” I murmured.
My mate’s expression went blank. “You were at the Plaza. You were right under my nose the entire time?”
I pulled my hand free to tap my lips with the tip of my finger. “Only long enough to make certain my gown for tomorrow had arrived safe and sound and to freshen up my hair and makeup. I arrived in New York in the early afternoon and spent every minute preparing. I had to go to the salon to fix my hair—blonde and blue simply wouldn’t do, oh no, not to an event like this. Then I had to buy a dress. Ah, Logan was so good to me. He picked this dress. Do you like it?”
Pulling free of Sanders’s arms, I spun for him. The way he stared at me, his desire strong in his scent, pleased me and my wolf.
“I more than like it,” he replied, his voice rough with his lust.
“Good. If you want to see what I’m wearing underneath it, you’ll just have to wait.”
“You really are an evil temptress.” My mate drew a deep breath and sighed. “For you, I will wait. I won’t like it, but I’ll wait.”
“I heard somewhere that patience is well rewarded.” With two dancing steps, I slid my way back into his arms, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against his shoulder. “Hey, Sanders?”
He held me close, kissing the top of my head. “What?”
“If I faint, will you catch me?”
He stiffened. “Why are you asking me that?”
My stomach, in a show of solidarity with my wolf, gurgled its complaints of my poor treatment of it. “What sort of party doesn’t have anything to eat?” I whined. “I didn’t have time for dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.”
“You haven’t eaten all day?” he demanded.
“I was busy, and I don’t like eating on planes, and both flights were short hauls, and once I was in New York, there just wasn’t time.” I leaned against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It’s entirely possible I’ll be so weak by the end of this party you’ll have to hand feed me
each and every morsel. You can be my slave, like in the Roman Empire, dropping grapes and other tidbits of delicious food into my mouth at my demand.”
Laughing, he hugged me close. “You’re so naughty. You just want me to feed you.”
“Maybe.”
“I will make certain you’re fed tonight, don’t worry. Now, come along. I’m not the only one who has been worried sick about you.”
When Sanders herded me into a salon connected to the ballroom, all conversation ceased. Seated at a cluster of couches were Desmond, Wendy, Dustin, Holly, a man—Joseph—who I only knew from Sanders’s pictures, and a pretty, blonde-haired woman I didn’t know. Joseph’s eyes narrowed.
Despite my mate’s proximity, the pack’s hatred bled through the magic binding us together, clawing at my spine with frigid claws. The joy of seeing my mate broke under the force of their scrutiny and disgust. What little happiness I had found with Sanders burned away to greasy ash, which clung to me so I couldn’t forget what could have been, if I had been good enough to please the rest of Seattle’s wolves.
If there had been any other guests with them, they were nowhere to be seen. My mate closed the door behind us. “Now that we’re all here, we can get to the real work,” he said, resting his hand on my back.
I clenched my hands into fists. “I have something to say first.”
“Sara?” he asked, his scent sharpening with surprise and worry.
“I want out of the pack.” The declaration came out far easier than I imagined possible. “I refuse to be a part of it, not for another minute.”
My mate’s astonishment partnered with his dismay, and my wolf detected a hint of fury beneath his turbulent emotions. Joseph froze, gawking at me.
The woman on the couch frowned.
Desmond’s eyes narrowed, and he rose to his feet, while his mate sucked in a breath.
“What’s going on, Sara? What brought this on?” Sanders demanded.
I pointed at Joseph, and while I didn’t know the woman, my wolf recognized her, so I shifted my finger to her. My tears blurred my vision. “You told me packs were family. You told me Fenerec needed to be with each other. You told me I’d have a home, you fucking piece of shit liar. All of them hate me; they have ever since the beginning. If this is what pack is, I don’t want it, not with you, not with anyone.”
After a long moment of silence, my mate left my side, sitting beside Joseph. “If that’s what you really want, fine. If you want out the pack that badly, then get out.”
It hurt, finally knowing where he stood, although I didn’t expect anything else. I was the intruder, the invader, and the source of all of his problems.
Without my mate near, the full force of the pack’s loathing and hatred washed through me, crushing me under the pressure of so many who wanted me gone. I trembled, flexing my hands. With my words of rejection, Sanders joined them.
“I don’t want a pack, not yours, not anyone’s. Don’t worry; you’ll make them all happy that you got rid of me.”
All packs brought were misery. The only person my wolf needed was me. She would learn to live without anyone else.
My mate’s fury spiked, and then the sense of Seattle’s wolves vanished, leaving numbness in their wake. “Fine,” he snarled. “Maybe that will make you happy.”
All I was left with was my mate’s anger, which burned me from the inside, and the stabbing sense of betrayal and pain I had caused him with my request. I clenched my teeth, swallowed, and without another word, jerked open the salon door and slammed it behind me.
I swept through the ballroom, feeling the Normals staring at me as I headed up the stairs and made my way to the foyer, faintly aware of someone stalking behind me. I should have grabbed my coat, but I left it, ignoring the startled queries of the ushers.
The lure of the Hamptons was the sea, and I could taste the salty tang in the air as soon as I was outside. The early winter air chilled my lungs. The driveway was fringed with trees, and through their trunks, I could see white beaches dipping into the water. I slipped through the trees, and allowing my rage to spike, I kicked off my heels, not caring where they landed. The necklace, bracelet, and earrings joined my shoes, their gemstones and platinum settings glinting in the moonlight before disappearing into the grasses fringing the beach.
While it was tempting to hurl my purse into the ocean, I dropped it where the grass met the sands.
It wasn’t worth the effort.
The wet sand squished between my toes, and snarling my fury, I kicked at the surf, sending water spraying everywhere. While there was no ice on the sea, its bitter cold bit at my skin. I waded in to my knees, taking my frustration out on the whitecaps. Within moments, my dress was soaked through and clung to me.
It would have been better for everyone if I had drowned along with the other Fenerec. With Desmond to help him, Sanders would have found someone else—someone better than a useless stripper who couldn’t afford to go to school like a normal woman.
Maybe his pack was right to hate me. Sanders deserved to find someone who actually wanted to be his kind, someone who fit with him and all of his wolves. My tears blinded me, and I waded deeper, until my hands drifted in the ocean’s steady, rhythmic flow.
With even my mate loathing me, every reason I had to fight slipped through my fingers.
To him, his pack was everything, and by rejecting those who hated me, I had rejected him. He had been right to sit with his Second, to be with those who had come long before me.
Maybe the Shadow Pope had been right. Maybe Fenerec belonged in family groups, but I didn’t feel like one of them. They had decided to become a blend of wolf and human. I was a freak compared to them. I wasn’t a part of their family.
I was the runaway, the orphan, the one who never belonged on the inside, the one who hadn’t been invited over, instead sneaking my way into their ranks. Was that why the other Fenerec hated me so much? Was it because I hadn’t become one of them in the same way?
The winter-chilled ocean numbed me, and when it was too deep to wade, I flipped over and floated on my back to stare up at the sky, stroking my arms back and forth to remain at the water’s surface while the waves flowed around me.
The moon, not quite full, hid behind the ruined tatters of clouds, its light weak. Every now and then, patches of stars shone through.
Leaving the pack should have freed me, but the memory of their hatred remained, so deep within me not even the sea could freeze it and erase the pain. I couldn’t blame my wolf for saving me. That was part of who she was.
She wanted to make everyone happy, and our failure to find acceptance in the pack hurt her as much as it did me. She wanted to belong.
So did I, but we didn’t. If we couldn’t find comfort and acceptance with our mate, we had no chance with other Fenerec. All we wanted was to feel wanted by the family we had been promised.
Why did the simplest wishes in life have to be the hardest to obtain? I had fled New York to make my way in the world, but the education I wanted slipped away like the sea through my fingers, flowing up on the beach to disappear. The career I desired was as far out of reach as the moon hiding behind the broken clouds.
The man I wanted, needed, and loved deserved someone better, someone who could fit with his pack as well as she fit with him. That person wasn’t me, and his pack knew it. In that, they were right. But without him, I had no one.
I had killed my best friend. I had killed Rory. When I had chosen Rory at seventeen, my parents had made it clear they never wanted me back. My father had driven me away with his fist and scarred me for my defiance. Then, just like they had warned me he would, Rory had betrayed me.
There was no one left for me and my wolf.
I closed my eyes and drifted, but even the ocean was reluctant to take me. When it finally did, I found no warmth in its embrace.
Chapter Seventeen
Someone pounded on my chest and forced the water out of my lungs. Both my wolf and I despaired as
we were robbed of the peace, quiet, and tranquility of death. All I knew was that I didn’t want to breathe, so I didn’t.
It was easier than I thought it would be, as though my body was as tired as the rest of me, incapable of making the effort. Even the ocean had rejected me.
A scalding mouth covered mine, forcing air down my throat and into my lungs.
Five unwanted breaths later, my body remembered what it was supposed to do, and no matter how hard I fought against it, I breathed. I choked on water, and hands rolled me over, clapping my back to force the rest out.
“Come on, damn you. Keep breathing,” Sanders pleaded, and when I no longer coughed, he rested me on my back. Wet hair tickled my cheek and fingers pressed to my throat. “Don’t you leave me, not like this, damn it.”
“She have a pulse yet?” Without the gruff edge or taunting phrases, it took me a long moment to recognize Dustin’s voice.
“Her heart’s beating, barely,” my mate whispered.
“My turn,” the witch stated. “That water’s barely above freezing, and God only knows how long she was in it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep her head still, watch her breathing, and keep checking her pulse. If she stops breathing again, resume CPR. If she vomits, don’t let her choke. Otherwise, keep still, keep quiet, and let me work. And for fuck’s sake, if those useless mutts in your pack come over here again, I’m killing them. I’ll rip out every bit of water from their body and turn them into raisins.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Holly stated.
“It’s not nearly as harsh as they deserve,” Dustin growled out. “You’re not the one with the front row seat. I pulled her out of the water, remember? Let me ask you this, Little Miss Cop. Is it a suicide or is it a murder if the victim was tortured before she decided to go for a swim?”
“I didn’t torture her,” my mate snarled, his anger searing through me. “I’d never—”
“I wasn’t talking about you, Stud Muffin. Fuck, the only time the pretty little princess was actually happy was when you held her, thus buffering her from the vitriol your so-called pack was whipping at her every other fucking minute.”