She blew out a breath. “Okay, I suppose one posh do won’t hurt. I haven’t dressed up in ages. When is this gathering?”
“Tonight.”
Panic swept across her pretty features. “Tonight? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t want to bother you with all the preparations.”
She slapped her palm to her cheek. “Oh my God, what the heck am I going to wear? Talk about short notice. Now I really need to leave. I wonder if Willow’s free to come shopping.” She grabbed her phone from the side of the bed and texted her friend, then leapt out of bed.
He watched her, admiring her naked, peachy arse as she disappeared into the bathroom, having half a mind to follow her, but he thought better of it.
Coming between a woman and her shopping mission was not a good idea.
* * *
Grayson fiddled with his bow tie in the hallway mirror and then gave up.
His head spun when he thought of how quickly it had all happened with Jamie, but he’d fallen head over heels in love with the most amazing, kind, sexy woman and he couldn’t wait to announce their engagement tonight.
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Jamie now. I asked her to arrive early,” he said to Luna and Alice. He half ran to the door, excitement fizzing in his belly.
His breath caught as he opened the door. “Jamie.” His stunning wife to be.
She stood on the stone steps, a vision of perfection in a cobalt-blue dress, its cut simple yet elegant as it moulded to her petite figure. She wore her caramel-coloured hair swept to one side, a thick ponytail coiled into an S-shape and resting on one shoulder. Although he couldn’t see beneath the floor-length dress, her extra height suggested she was wearing high heels.
Jamie’s lips parted as she looked at him in his tux, with much the same awestruck expression he imagined on his own face.
“You found a dress today then?” He cringed inwardly; of course she did. “You look stunning.”
“Ditto.” She licked her full lips, covered with a hint of pale pink lipstick. “Can I come in, or are we going to stand here gawping at each other all night?” She grinned.
He took her hand—noting his ring on her finger—and led her into the hallway.
She’d not stepped more than two paces when Luna came at her like a heat-seeking missile. “Jamie! Dad just told us you’re getting married.” She collided into Jamie, who stumbled in her heels, but recovered in time to return his daughter’s overly enthusiastic embrace. “I’m so excited!”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Luna. I am too.” She flashed a smile his way and his heart liquified.
“Can be a bridesmaid? Pleeease?”
Jamie tapped Luna’s nose and laughed. “You will make the prettiest bridesmaid ever, won’t she, Grayson?”
Grayson didn’t hear her. His pulse rate quickened as he noticed the back of her dress, or rather the lack of it. It was cut into a deep V that reached her tiny waist, and a delicate silver chain held the silky fabric on her shoulders. Below the nape of her neck, the chain hung vertically, following the delicious curve of her spine. As she moved, the chain swung like a pendulum and her ivory skin shimmered like she’d sprinkled it with apricot candy dust. He had a mind to take her upstairs and lick that evocative sweetness right this minute. Where else has she dusted it?
Alice hobbled over to Jamie. “Congratulations, Jamie.” She kissed both her cheeks. “I don’t know of two people who are more perfect for each other. I hope you’ll be really happy together.” She started crying like she had when he’d told her and Luna.
“Thanks, Alice, that means a lot.” She blinked rapidly. “You’re going to make me cry and I don’t want to smudge my mascara.”
When she’d finished dabbing at her eyes, Alice manoeuvred Luna by the shoulders. “Right then, young pup, it’s time we got you upstairs. The pack will be arriving soon.”
Grayson waited for her to protest, but Luna gave Jamie one last hug and headed up the wide stairs. “What, no sulking or making a fuss?” he called after her.
She turned. “No, because you promised I could go next year, remember?”
“I did no such thing.” He rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, you cheeky pup.”
He waited until they were out of sight and faced Jamie, smiling. “Are you sure you’re ready to take on a rebellious almost-teenager?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” she joked. “I might be too busy taking care of her hot father.” She reached for his bow tie. “Here, let me fix this.”
Jamie bit her bottom lip while she arranged his bow tie. Her brow crinkled in a frown, but he suspected it wasn’t from concentrating on his tie.
When she’d finished, he held both her wrists gently. “Don’t worry about tonight, Jamie.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
He kissed her, splaying his fingers on the small of her back, delighting in the feel of her soft, bare skin. “I’ll be right by your side all evening, and if there’s any trouble—” her frown appeared again “—which there won’t be, but if there is, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
* * *
The evening went well, surprisingly so.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled from the high ceiling. Dotted around the vast ballroom, tables were laden with a banquet of whole legs of lamb, roasted chickens and game, and enormous hunks of venison, a favourite of wolves. On each table sat a stunning floral arrangement, and hog roasts turned slowly on spits, the mouth-watering, smoky aroma wafting across the room.
Two hundred pack members attended, dressed in all their finery. The men wore tuxedos with coloured silk cummerbunds and matching bow ties, while the women were dressed in elegant, designer creations, and dripped with diamonds, rubies and gold jewellery, pretending they were civilized when within every one of them lay a beast that could arise with the slightest provocation.
He announced his engagement to Jamie, inciting a rapturous applause and the hierarchy squabbling to be the first to talk to his fiancée.
If Jamie was still nervous, she didn’t show it, and neither did she show her dislike of such extravagance as he introduced her to various members of his pack. She seemed to know the right thing to say, striking up conversations and laughing at appropriate moments.
Even his gold-digger ex, Imogen, appeared to be behaving herself, much to his relief.
“See, you had nothing to worry about. They like you,” he told Jamie. “Everyone seems to be enjoying the food too; look at them wolfing it down.” He tilted his head towards the largest table.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Jamie replied with a grin. “Maybe they’re on their best behaviour because there’s a human here. Namely me.”
“Okay, one thing you should know about werewolves; they won’t behave just because you’re here.”
As though to prove his point, an argument broke out between his beta, Xander, and Flynn, a bitter wolf always looking for a fight.
Grayson watched, immediately on edge.
Flynn delivered a blow to Xander, who flew through the air and crashed into one of the tables. It collapsed under his weight and Xander landed on the floor with a clattering thud. Flowers, crockery, glassware and food scattered across the parquet flooring.
“Damnit, I spoke too soon.” He moved in front of Jamie. “It’s probably a disagreement over who wanted the last leg of lamb,” he said, attempting to make light of the situation, but a fight between two male wolves rarely ended well.
His beta grabbed a broken glass and leapt up, the tablecloth tangling around his legs. He thrust the glass forwards. Xander’s face reddened, his body convulsed—he was losing it to his wolf.
The pack looked on, crowding the scene, jeering like schoolkids on the playground. Cries of, “Fight! Fight!” and, “Take him out, Xander!” echoed around the ballroom.
Grayson baulked at their immaturity. His hackles rose. The instinct to protect his pack kicked in. If his beta couldn’t control his wolf over a goddamn piece of
meat, how would he ever be ready to take over as alpha?
The veins in Xander’s neck pulsed, his eyes became that of his wolf. He dropped the glass and flipped onto all fours. His back arched and his tux ripped at the seams.
Crushing, crunching, bones breaking, the sound like snapping the legs off a chicken carcass, only amplified a thousand times, and punctuated with snarls and agonised howls that might cause those with a delicate disposition to faint.
Man metamorphosed into werewolf.
In less than three seconds, Flynn did the same, his clothes falling in shreds around his paws.
Xander lurched at Flynn, his elongated canines dripping with saliva. Their giant, furry bodies rolled on the floor, snapping and snarling. Another table got knocked over.
“For God’s sake, break it up, Xander!” Grayson yelled.
They knocked a hog roast, splattering hot fat on their fur amid yelps of pain.
Grayson had seen enough. Fury exploded within. He ripped his bow tie from his neck and sprinted towards the fight. Without a backwards glance at Jamie, he morphed into his wolf, ruining his tuxedo in seconds.
Chapter Twelve
Jamie’s breath caught in her throat, but not out of fear.
When Xander and Flynn had turned into their wolves, she’d watched with a weird sense of fascination, despite how dangerous the situation. They were massive, the size of grizzly bears, and as powerful, but seeing Grayson morph into his alpha wolf for the first time left her awestruck.
Grayson towered above them, his frame colossal, his fangs glinting in the light from the chandeliers, and his glossy black fur covering powerful muscles that rippled as he moved.
She gawped. She’d never seen anything or anyone look more magnificent in all her life. She couldn’t wait to marry him.
“You do know he will expect you to become like us, don’t you?” a woman’s voice drawled beside her.
Jamie tore her gaze away from her gorgeous wolf man. Imogen. She might have known the long-legged leech would seize the opportunity to say something to her now Grayson had left her side. She played along. “What are you talking about, Imogen?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Hasn’t he mentioned it? Oh dear. Grayson told me all about his plans for you.”
Jamie had a sudden urge to swipe the smug expression from her face, but seeing as how she could morph into her wolf in a second, she refrained. Even in her high heels, Jamie was almost a head shorter than Imogen.
“He told me how he only joined the dating agency to find a mother figure for that little brat of his,” she went on, her voice nasal and loaded with self-importance.
“Luna is an adorable girl,” she told her. Who had mentioned on many occasions how much she hated Imogen. An astute girl.
“Whatever.” Imogen flicked her wrist. “So, when is this farce of a wedding taking place?”
Jamie ground her molars. “Grayson and I haven’t discussed the details yet—not that it’s any of your business.”
“Really? That surprises me. I mean, why wait with these marriages of convenience? Tell me, how much is he paying you?”
Her stomach took a nosedive. Any bravado she had dissipated. A marriage of convenience? “No, it’s not like that…” She stopped, taken aback by the sudden lack of conviction in her voice.
He loves me echoed inside her head over and over, as though her brain sought to convince her, but no matter how many times she thought it, something unpleasant tugged at her insides. She trusted Grayson, she’d let him inside her heart, but… but what if it was all a lie? What if everything they shared meant nothing to him? Granted, things had moved fast, but he said he loved her…
Imogen emitted a triumphant cackle. “Judging by your expression, I assume he hasn’t mentioned your fee yet. Or maybe he hasn’t even told you he wants nothing more than a convenient marriage, so he’ll look good in front of the pack.” She cackled again. “I warned him against it, of course—why marry you when everyone here knows I satisfy his needs in the bedroom? What more does an alpha need?”
Jamie’s blood pulsated in her ears. She looked to Grayson, searching for something that would reassure her it wasn’t true, but he was between Xander and Flynn, hackles raised, teeth bared, holding them apart.
For a split second he glanced her way, but it wasn’t reassurance she saw, it was regret searing through his gaze.
Hot tears prickled at the back of her eyes.
“Poor little gullible Jamie. I do hope I haven’t put my paw in it,” Imogen said, her sarcastic tone implying she’d been planning this all night.
Jamie spun on her heels and fled from the room in a blur of tears and disillusionment.
Halfway across the hall, she stumbled, twisting her ankle. She winced, but the pain was nothing compared to the jagged tear ripping at her heart.
She yanked her shoes off, ran out of the manor, ignoring the sharp gravel as it dug into her soles, and got into her car.
Her breaths laboured, she turned the ignition, only now realising she was blocked in by other cars, but she refused to let that stop her from getting away from Grayson. Did he even know she’d left? He’d been too preoccupied with his pack and controlling the fight to care about her, but maybe that was how it should be. How did she even think she could compete with his pack?
Anyway, she was sure the delectable bitch Imogen would take great delight in telling him she had ruined his plans. A marriage of convenience? She still couldn’t get her head around it. Were Luna and Alice in on it too?
Barefoot, she pressed the accelerator pedal. Her ankle throbbed as she manoeuvred through the cars, scraping a Mercedes and a Ferrari before mounting the grass to escape from this nightmare of her own creation.
She floored it up the lane, hitting every damn pothole. “Come on, Gloria,” she said to her car. “Get me home and I’ll never bring you here again.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, but her old car didn’t let her down—unlike some people. Or werewolves.
At last, she screeched to a halt in the car park outside her apartment building, having no idea how she’d not killed herself, or been pulled over for speeding, but she was home.
She cursed as she dropped her keys on the tiles outside her apartment.
Willow came out of her door, dressed for a night on the town. “Jamie? What are you doing back so early?” Her friend’s face dropped. “What happened? You look like shit.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going out.” Tears threatened again. Her throat hurt.
Willow closed her door and rushed over to her. “Not anymore. Jamie, what’s wrong?”
A pathetic sob escaped her lips. “It’s over. Grayson and me.”
“What? No way.” Willow wrapped her arms around her. Jamie sunk into her friend’s comforting embrace. Tears dampened her sparkly top.
After a few moments, Willow spoke. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No…yes.”
Willow picked up her keys from the floor and opened Jamie’s door. “Let’s get you inside. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea, or maybe something alcoholic?”
“No, it’s fine. You should go. I don’t want to ruin your night as well.”
“Nonsense.” She placed her arm around Jamie’s shoulders and led her into the lounge.
Cujo, who’d been curled up asleep in his doggie bed, woke up and cocked his head.
Jamie collapsed on her sofa. Her little dog jumped onto her lap to offer his comfort too. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Willow fetched the box of tissues she kept in a drawer and handed them to her.
“Thanks,” she snivelled.
“What happened, Jamie?” she asked softly.
“The evening was going so well. He announced our engagement, and everyone seemed so kind, welcoming me into the pac—” She stopped herself. “The family. They made me feel like part of that even though I’m not a—” A werewolf. “—not like them.” Jamie dabbed her eyes. It wasn’t easy keeping what they were a se
cret. “Grayson doesn’t love me, Willow. It turns out he wanted a marriage of convenience all along.”
Willow’s mouth made an O shape. “I don’t believe it. It’s obvious Grayson dotes on you. Why would he say that?”
“He didn’t, and that’s the worst thing.”
“You’ve lost me. How did you find out then?”
“His ex, Imogen, told me.”
“Well, there you go. The bitch is probably jealous.”
“No, she told me Grayson planned it from the beginning. He even discussed it with her. He wants a mother figure for Luna and a good little wife with bedroom benefits.”
“I still don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “Grayson is the most genuine guy I know.”
“You’ve always been on his side.” Her reply came out curt and bitter.
“I’m not on anyone’s side. It’s just I can see when two people are made for each other. You love him, Jamie.”
Her shoulders sank with the realisation; she would have to live with this ache in her heart forever. “Yes, I love him, but how could I have let this happen to me again? Granted, I found out before our wedding what a snake he is…” The words stuck in her throat and she swallowed. “And he didn’t sleep with anyone.” Or maybe he had, with Imogen. She dismissed it, the thought too painful to bear. “But this is the same. I let my guard down and put my trust in Grayson, and it has all been a lie. I’m a total idiot with shit for brains. Why else would he propose when we’ve only known each other for such a short time?”
“Because he loves you.” Willow smoothed a wisp of hair from her face. “If I had a guy look at me with even one-tenth of the devotion with which Grayson looks at you, I’d marry him in a heartbeat. This Imogen woman probably made up the whole marriage of convenience thing. Love like you and Grayson have is rare, Jamie, but it’s real. So what if it happened quickly?”
Jamie shook her head. “It’s not. It’s a pathetic, make-believe romantic fantasy people read about in books, or watch at the movies.” There was so much she wanted to tell her friend; the fact Grayson was a werewolf for one, and his duty to his pack, and not to mention how he wanted her to become a wolf like him and Luna. Did he intend to bite her to initiate the mutation? When, on their wedding night? She bit down on her molars. “There are things you don’t understand, Willow. It’s complicated.”
Dating a Werewolf Page 9