Alpha's Contract Marriage - Silver Mountain Wolves 1

I dug my toes into the soft white sand and looked up at the golden and red sky. The water was blue all the way to the horizon, and the first sunbeams were just starting to shine on its surface. It was quiet on the beach, so I closed my eyes and let the Caribbean breeze kiss my skin one last time.

I had been running away to Isla Mujeres for years. When I had a few days between cruises, I would go back to the tiny apartment I rented here. It was just a few steps from the ocean and a place of peace and quiet. I would eat seafood that was brought in fresh every morning by a fisherman who lived two streets away and was expertly cooked by his tiny, old grandmother at their little storefront. I'd relax in the bright red hammock I'd strung up in the backyard, read, take naps, and enjoy the peace and color of my own little piece of paradise.

It was a beautiful life built on an ugly lie.

Every day I was here, I told myself it was fine to treat myself. That I was "finding myself" and that my time as Operations Manager for a major cruise line would teach me how to be a leader. I pretended that I thought my grandfather was finally stepping up, that he would finally do everything he had been putting off because he was getting old and sick. I thought about him putting his foot down and getting rid of the bad things that were in our small group. I told myself that he was securing succession and that the notice that I was his heir with the support of the pack as a whole would come any minute.

Now, like everything else that was built on shaky ground, my private world, which I loved so much, had fallen apart and was in pieces all around me.

My grandfather died the same way he lived: he didn't want to take on all of the responsibilities that come with leading a pack. There had been no planning for who would take over. There will be no housework. Certainly not by him.

Instead, there were uprisings and people moving away. My parents were gone, and so was almost everyone else from their generation. Jeff, Sid, and the rest of their gang of crooks had taken over the pack and were mistreating the few members of our generation who didn't run away. Ana, my sweet cousin, was forced to get married to Jeff in a fake ceremony, and he got her pregnant. I went back long enough to set her free, but instead of taking my rightful place as Alpha, I ran away with my tail between my legs when the fight that followed almost tore me apart.

My fingers went to my ribs, where, under my thin shirt, four scars ran in parallel from just below my heart to my right hip in a rough line. I felt sick to my stomach when I thought about the taste of Sid's blood on my tongue after I ripped out his throat in a desperate attempt to stay alive and save Ana. Even though they didn't regret anything, they still had nightmares.

I was hurt and confused, so I went back to my safe place to lick my wounds. I didn't do much but lay in my hammock for weeks, barely able to move. My body was taking a long time to heal, even though shifters should heal at an impossible rate. Every painful second that went by was a sign that I was selfish and arrogant.

I had grown up seeing my grandfather not do what he was supposed to do as Alpha. I had seen how it split up my family and my pack. What had I done, though? The same old crap. I ran away from my responsibilities, and everyone in my pack paid for it. This meant that everything that happened was my fault.

Instead, there were uprisings and people moving away. My parents were gone, and so was almost everyone else from their generation. Jeff, Sid, and the rest of their gang of crooks had taken over the pack and were mistreating the few members of our generation who didn't run away. Ana, my sweet cousin, was forced to get married to Jeff in a fake ceremony, and he got her pregnant. I went back long enough to set her free, but instead of taking my rightful place as Alpha, I ran away with my tail between my legs when the fight that followed almost tore me apart.

My fingers went to my ribs, where, under my thin shirt, four scars ran in parallel from just below my heart to my right hip in a rough line. I felt sick to my stomach when I thought about the taste of Sid's blood on my tongue after I ripped out his throat in a desperate attempt to stay alive and save Ana. Even though they didn't regret anything, they still had nightmares.

I was hurt and confused, so I went back to my safe place to lick my wounds. I didn't do much but lay in my hammock for weeks, barely able to move. My body was taking a long time to heal, even though shifters should heal at an impossible rate. Every painful second that went by was a sign that I was selfish and arrogant.

I had grown up seeing my grandfather not do what he was supposed to do as Alpha. I had seen how it split up my family and my pack. What had I done, though? The same old crap. I ran away from my responsibilities, and everyone in my pack paid for it. This meant that everything that happened was my fault.

I turned away from the water and walked back to where my shoes and duffel bag were waiting on the wooden boardwalk. By water taxi and then walking through the city, Cancun International Airport was less than ten miles away. If there were no weather delays, it would take me seven hours to fly to the small town where I grew up and see the wreck of everything I used to know. By tonight, my island haven wouldn't be there anymore. The first thing I would be is an Alpha. Everything else I loved or wanted would be taken away as punishment for what I and my family had done wrong.

I put my feet into my shoes by reaching down, then grabbed the handle of my duffel bag and put it over my shoulder. I started walking while my heart was beating like crazy in my chest.

As soon as I put the car in park, I let go of my white-knuckled grip on my fingers. I just sat there for a moment and let my heart rate slow down.

I may have learned to drive in this exact Range Rover from the mid-1970s, but that was when it was just a broken-down shell. Between the time I left home and the time he died, my grandfather turned it into a "project" and lovingly over-engineered it until it was a complete monster. In the meantime, I had hardly driven at all during that time.

It would be an understatement to say that the long trip down mountain back roads covered in snow and the change to the busy streets of downtown Boston were not fun. I'd spent most of it complaining to myself that I wouldn't have to make this drive at all if my grandfather hadn't spent so much time on the perfect metallic Ardennes green paint job and so little time on pack business. We would have all been better off with a proper succession plan than with a dashboard that was modified to hold so many high-tech gadgets that it lit up brighter than the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree whenever the car was put in gear.

As my nerves calmed down, I told myself, "You're lucky they let you have it at all."Technically, the estates of both my grandfather and my parents were in probate. By law, I shouldn't be able to get any of what they left behind until the long, slow process of verifying their assets, paying off their debts, and filing their last tax returns is done. But as a well-known lawyer in the area who was in charge of all the details, Aiyssa was able to pull some strings. I couldn't get to or sell any of my other assets yet, but I could use the Range Rover for now. Even though I hate it, driving the Range Rover has saved me the money I would have spent on a different car. This is money I really need right now.

I took a deep breath and double-checked the pockets of my navy peacoat to make sure my phone and wallet were still there. I got ready and opened the door. A blast of bitterly cold air blew over me, sucking the heat out of the SUV and turning my cheeks bright red. I got out of the car, shut the door, checked to make sure it was locked with the key fob, and turned toward the exit while gritting my teeth and cursing my Caribbean-thin blood.

As I walked around with my hands in my pockets and my coat and scarf wrapped around me, I wondered how long it would be before my body remembered how to deal with the cold. I was born and raised in New England, and I used to sail through the coldest winters with ease. My body had to remember that at some point, didn't it? I had been back for a few weeks. When I was in my human form, there was no reason for the cold air to still freeze my lungs and make my skin feel numb every time I went outside.

As I left the Parcel #7 Garage, I let out a sigh. As I joined the flow of well-dressed pedestrians and walked the short distance down the block to the restaurant, my breath made a white cloud in front of my face. Time to play the part.

I built up my new Alpha persona around myself with each step. I stuck out my chin, straightened my back, and sped up. I tried to hide any emotion on my face except for calm confidence, and I tried to stop my heart from beating. It felt like putting on a costume, but that's how these things worked, right? "Fake it until you make it," as the saying goes.

I moved up quickly through the ranks of the cruise company by using the same method. Now that the stakes were much higher, I had to hope it would work again.When I got to the elegant brick-and-glass front of the Union Oyster House, I steeled myself and pushed through the door into the warm, fragrant air of the famous restaurant.

When the hostess greeted me, I said, "I'm meeting Ms. Wellington."

"Oh, yes," she said right away, and her eyes grew a little wider when she heard the name. "Please walk this way."

As I followed her up a narrow set of worn wooden stairs to a private dining room, I took off my scarf and unbuttoned my coat."Just in here, ma'am," said the hostess, nodding me in. Then she was gone.

As I carefully put on my Alpha mask and walked into the room, my stomach tightened.At the only set table in the room, a handsome man about my age was sitting, but it was clear right away that he was just the arm candy. He was totally focused on the only other person in the room, and for good reason.

Amanda Wellington was incredibly pretty. Her perfect silver hair fell in large, soft ringlets around her shoulders, and her long pencil skirt and cashmere top with a boat neck showed off her slim figure. High cheekbones and eyes the color of polished jade gave her a sharp, hawk-like look, which was different from what I would have expected from the Alpha of the most common panther pride in the area. Her thin lips curled into a polite smile.

"Nikita Palmer, I think," she said, drawing out the "ah" sounds in my name with her Brahmin accent.

"Yes," I said, swallowing the knot of fear in my throat and forcing the words out in my best "I've got this" voice. "I'm glad we got to meet."

She waved her hand and said, "Mmm. Really, it's nothing. Miles and I came to town for the holidays, and we still haven't figured out how to get home.

I didn't do the math to figure out how much it must have cost to rent a penthouse in the middle of Boston for more than a month.

"Besides," she said as she picked up her glass of wine and drank from it, never taking her eyes off my face as I took off my coat and scarf and draped them over the back of the chair across from hers. "It's not every day that the pack next door gets a new Alpha, but it's happening more often than usual these days."

I felt like I had been hit in the face by the insult, but I didn't show it. It wasn't the first time I'd heard opinions like that, and it wouldn't be the last. Also, she was right, and that was all my fault.I reached for the carafe of wine and poured myself a glass as I dug deep into my Alpha self.

"Mr. Morgan's plot to take over the government has been stopped." As I looked into the other Alpha's eyes, ice crept into my voice. "There won't be a second time."

"No?" Amanda raised one of her well-groomed eyebrows.

The room's door was opened. There were a lot of servers bringing in plates of food. They put the dishes in the middle of the table quickly and quietly, and many of them gave Amanda nervous looks as they did so.

Amanda pointed to the feast and said, "I took it upon myself to order for us."

"Help yourself, please. I hope the choice of salad is okay. I don't eat it myself, but I know that wolves are more naturally omnivorous."

"It was kind of you to think about that, thank you." It was awkward to serve myself first, but I reminded myself that I was her guest and that, as Alphas, we were both equals. Even subtly acting like I thought I was the less important person would not help me.

To make a good impression, I pushed down my feelings of not being good enough and tried most of the tasty things on offer. There were hot oysters on the half shell, cherrystone clams, and mussels in a garlic and white wine sauce that smelled like a consommé. I gritted my teeth and took a small amount of the Caesar salad as well. Since I couldn't eat lactose, I'd have to find a way to make it look like I was eating it without actually doing so. That would be annoying, but if I said I didn't like it, it would show I was weak, which I couldn't do in this situation. Also, now that she had brought up the salad, I couldn't ignore her obvious concern by not eating any.

"Now," Amanda said, taking another sip of her wine as Myles brought them both plates. I noticed that he didn't bother to put any kind of vegetable on either of their plates.

"Tell me what you are going to do, Nikita. May I call you Nikita?" She didn't stop to wait for an answer; she just moved on. "Because you have to see where I'm coming from. I have my own honor to protect."

Myles put his Alpha's carefully set-up plate in front of her with a look of devotion that was almost too much to handle. Amanda ran a fingertip down his chin, giving him a slight smile of approval, and then he turned back to me.

"Of course, it makes perfect sense that you'd want to reaffirm the agreements your grandpa and I made regarding limits with my pride, but given the status of your pack right now-" she faltered regrettably, sounding as if she really wanted to cluck their tongue but was too well-bred to make such an inane noise.

I had to force myself to try one of the mussels. It smelled and felt great, and everything about it was perfect, but I was too worried about not messing up the meeting to really enjoy it. I chewed my food quickly, swallowed, and pretended to be totally calm.

"I know what you are worried about. No one has benefited from the instability in my pack." I put down my silverware and wiped my lips with a napkin, even though I didn't need to. This gave me a few seconds to get ready to make my pitch. "Neither has the economy in our area been getting worse. I'm going to fix both of them."

I laid out my plan in a methodical way, with the same fake confidence and accuracy I'd used to make a lot of business proposals to cruise company executives in the past.

"A ski resort?" Amanda's eyebrows were so high that they were almost at the top of her head, but she had a clear look of greed in her eyes.

"Yes." I argued for myself. "The Slopes" was the worst name ever for a ski resort, and it had bad management from the start. Even at its best, it was only a small part of what it could have been. If the property is planned and run well, it could compete with the best ski resorts in the country. That number of tourists would be more than enough to bring the whole area back to life.

She beat her red fingernails on the table and stopped pretending to eat. "You hope that the promise of money will bring your scattered group back together," she thought, looking at me with more interest.

"Among other things," I said, without being clear. I also wanted to give my pack mates a chance to live out the dreams we'd all talked about in secret, giggly whispers around campfires and hidden bottles of liquor when we were in high school, before the real world slammed a hard fist down on them. But she didn't care about that.

She then asked me a series of very pointed questions about where I thought I would get the money, how I thought the timeline would work, and if I had the skills and courage to see the project through.

I stood my ground and didn't back down. Even though I didn't know everything, I had done my work. I made sure she knew it too by giving her numbers and names and silently praying that she didn't know enough about the business to know if they were true or not.

"All I want from you," I said with a firm voice, "is to keep the rules that were in place when my grandfather was Alpha."

I thought, "Keep your pride off my land" as I took another sip of my wine and tried to keep my hand from shaking. Don't send your lawyers into my business. Let my pack safely pass through your territory, and I'll do the same for your pride. It's not a lot to ask.

Amanda thought about that, and the air changed in a way that made me feel like a predator. "Do you know how my pride and your pack first agreed to work together?" After a long pause, she asked. Her tone was too casual for me to feel safe.

"No," I told her, trying to sound as casual as she did. "It had been going on for at least a hundred years before my grandfather took over, but he never brought it up."

Even though I sounded like I didn't care, the words had a bitter taste to them. I loved my grandfather, and he was a very skilled man. But when it came to his job as Alpha, he hadn't done much more than the bare minimum, even in "easy" things like teaching the younger wolves about pack history.

"The daughter of the original Alpha wolf was given in marriage to the new Alpha of my pride." Amanda's elegant, long fingers played with the bottom of her wine glass. "She turned out to be sterile, so there were never any wolf cubs running around pride lands," she said, "but pride history says that they loved each other enough that the agreement held anyway."

I tried to picture who that bride had been that had been traded. She had to be in my family tree in some way. A great-great-aunt perhaps?

"Now," Amanda said with a sly look. "I guess I'm a bit of a romantic," she said, caressing the word as if it were a funny secret. "And a stickler for the past. I'm sure your plan is well-thought-out enough to work, but you'll have to forgive me for being skeptical."

That was fair, even though it made things hard for me. If I were her, I'd doubt, too.

"Okay, so here's how this will work." She turned her head to the side, and her eyes looked at me with a directness that made my skin itch. "I'll agree to extend our agreement, and I'll even put you in touch with some investors I know who I think will be interested in your small project. But if I want to keep my pride and my investment safe, I'll need someone who knows a lot about it." She took a pause for effect. "So, in keeping with the original plan, you'll marry my son."

For a moment, the words just wouldn't make sense. "Excuse me?" was all I could say when my brain finally figured out what was going on.

"Of course, he'll come to you." She smiled and waved. "He's not a virgin, as tradition would have it, but he's not in any bad relationships and is of the right age." She stopped once more. "Or do you like women better?"

"I-no." I felt my cheeks start to burn from how silly and blunt the conversation was. "But I, that is, will even your son-"

Her face turned stone-like in an instant.

She told me in a voice as hard as diamonds, "Prides are matriarchies."

"Sebastian is not married, and I am his mother as well as his Alpha. That gives me direct control over him twice, so he'll do what I say and won't complain."

"I see."

As things were, I kind of did. Even though the "romantic" and "traditionalist" reasons didn't make a bit of sense to me, it was clear that Amanda was asking for a favor in exchange for a favor. No matter what her reasons were, she wanted her son out of the way. The best thing to do was to dump him on me, since she had nothing to lose by agreeing to my terms and I couldn't say no, which we both knew.

I told myself, "It doesn't matter." There really wasn't anything to lose. I wasn't married and hadn't had a lover in years. Because of my and my family's sins, other women in my pack had been forced to sleep with men they didn't want. On some cosmic level, the fact that I now had to pay the same price felt like my karmic debts were coming due early.

If this was what it would cost to fix my pack, I wouldn't argue. I raised my chin and looked into her eyes. "I agree with what you say."*** As I left the restaurant and walked toward Faneuil Hall, I could feel the bitter cold from a distance. Still, I didn't pay much attention to it. At least, I didn't until I opened the heavy door to the long indoor bazaar and a warm breeze filled my face. It smelled like bread, sugar, and chowder.

I moved down the central corridor toward my favorite bakery stall out of habit and because my muscles remembered how to move. Every time I took a step that I used to know well, I thought about a thousand happy times.

But neither the surface feelings nor the memories could break through the numbness that seemed to have settled into my bones.

I ordered a few breads and pastries on autopilot and then added an almond-milk latte at the last minute. After I paid for them, I took them to a chest-height counter that ran along a nearby shared eating area and sat down on a tall stool. My phone buzzed in my pocket as soon as I sat down, so I took it out.

The screen lit up with a message from Aiyssa. What happened?

Oh, okay, I thought I would answer. I just made a promise to a man I've never met to help the pack get rich like it's the Middle Ages.

However, that was not just. I had bought and sold myself, so there was no point in my complaining or wailing about the situation any more. Also, Aiyssa wouldn't put up with my self-martyrdom because I was a successful lawyer and one of the few pack members who had kept some semblance of normalcy while the pack fell apart.

I decided to respond to you via SMS instead. We are presently on our way home. Just made a quick pit break for some coffee and cookies. After the next day, I will fill you in on all of the details. Are we going to continue this?

Lunch. She affirmed it in a curt manner. Time and location as usual.

Since I got back from my trip, Aiyssa, Wynette, and I have made it a point to eat lunch together at least once every other week. If she had a court date, Aiyssa would make a reservation for a meeting room at the courthouse, and we would all meet up with her there during the breaks in the proceedings. We agreed to meet at her workplace on days when she did not have court. Aiyssa and Wynette's observance of the custom spanned a number of years at this point. Being welcomed back into the group after my absence was a wonderful feeling. It gave me the impression that I wasn't the only one fighting the war to save the pack when I thought about it.

I told myself that lunch will be around soon enough to tell her about it. She wouldn't be happy about it, but there was nothing that could be done to change the situation, and there was no reason for her to be concerned about it. I was more than capable of providing sufficient cause for concern for all of us.

I straightened my back, put my phone away in a pocket, grabbed my coffee and pastries, and started walking out of the market in the direction of the parking garage. The sun had already set during the winter, and driving back would be even less enjoyable than driving there in the first place. I briefly entertained the idea of reserving a room at a nearby hotel and making the drive home in the morning.

I was able to resist the temptation almost as swiftly as it had arisen. I was working with little cash up until I got an investor, and on top of that, I was already paying for the hotel room I was staying in while I was in town. I couldn't afford to waste what little money I did have by making two payments just because I was too lazy to remember the second one. Not until the estates of my family's deceased members have been resolved, the money has been secured, and the future of the pack is assured.

In addition to that, I thought as I reached the parking garage and made my way up the winding stairs, as I sipped my latte and savored the pleasant warmth it provided me. Tomorrow, you will need to get an early start on your day.

The very idea made me give an internal grunt. It was necessary for me to have an early start, particularly tomorrow. It was possible that I only had a few weeks before Amanda gave her son to me, but it was the best case scenario. I was sleeping in a single-room extended-stay hotel suite, which was good for just me, but if a panther was going to wind up sharing my space, I would need new accommodations. somewhere with more space, to be sure, as well as perhaps something a little more stunning and pleasant. A feline shifter would have some prerequisites to meet.

I started to think that maybe I should also do some shopping. If I had a friend with me, my usual, boring clothes would not do me any good. When I thought about buying something sexual on purpose, my stomach felt like it was full of butterfly wings. It wasn't something I was particularly good at by any means. Had I ever even owned decent lingerie?

My mind went right to a frilly pink negligee that Pierre had bought for me on a whim when I was a sophomore in college. He was ten years older than me and worked as a pastry chef in France. He was my first and only boyfriend. Our whirlwind romance lasted just long enough for me to decide I never wanted to get involved in another relationship and for macarons to become my worst addiction. Since then, I've filled my closet with underwear that is useful but not special, and I've made sure to keep up the appearance of having a boyfriend so I can politely turn down other guys' advances.

I said something in my head about how useless that method was.

As I got closer to the car, I fumbled for the key fob and clicked it to open the doors. I stepped inside. After putting my pastries in the secure compartment of the passenger seat and my coffee in the cup holder, I took out my phone and opened the app that let me record my voice. It would take a very long time to get there. It would be best for me to start making a list of all the things I needed to do right away to make sure I stuck to my part of the new deal my pack and Amanda's panther pride had made.

I felt in charge when I made lists, and I needed to eat, sleep, and live that feeling until Amanda's son came. He'd be looking for an Alpha, or a leader like his mother who did what she wanted and didn't listen to anyone else.

I gritted my teeth and gripped the steering wheel as I drove out of the parking garage and into Boston's terrible traffic.

I told myself, "You can do this," and began to say notes out loud for my phone to record.

You're the Alpha now, so act like it, since that's what you're supposed to do. Just show him what he wants to see, and everything will be fine.

I let myself have a moment of pure satisfaction as I looked at the reservations spreadsheet on the iPad at the front desk. In the hospitality business, January was often a slow month. Even in cities like Boston that are doing well, most businesses had to work harder to keep sales up after the holidays.

The fact that A Taste of Magic was a shining exception to that rule gave me a lot of pleasure.

It didn't matter what the pride said. It could laugh all it wanted about the "vanity project" Sam and I were "indulging in" while we put off growing up and taking our rightful places as mates to dominant females, as every good panther male should. But, like they always did, they were talking out of their rear ends. Sam and I were building an empire together in a quiet way. One that meant we'd never have to be submissive little house-husbands like my brother Ben and my father. I was going to be someone, and I had the proof in the form of a full reservations list and a balance sheet.

Even though I had proof of my success, I still had to do my job. Sam was in charge of the kitchen tonight, so I was in charge of the front of the house. About an hour ago, I went around to each table, shook hands, made jokes and compliments, and bought customers desserts or drinks for free here and there to make the end of their night shine a little brighter. It was time to go around again. But first, I'd take care of a few more details.

I circled a reservation for later in the night and tipped the iPad so that Bea, the hostess on duty, could see it. "Please give this table to Suzie." I tapped a second one. "Give that one to Justin. It's a big party, so if you need to, you can give Justin a second job, but start with him." I gave her a sideways look. "It doesn't matter to Mr. Hughes, but Mrs. Hughes likes the view."

Bea laughed as she changed the seating chart to reflect the changes. "And Justin likes to wiggle his butt when he knows someone is watching."

I wasn't a jerk, so I never made anyone on my staff serve a table they didn't feel good about. But when the flirting was fun for both the server and the customer, I never liked to get in the way of anyone having a good time.

About that, Juno was eating dinner in the corner with the Massachusetts Assistant Attorney General and his guests. She was very polite, so she would love a reason to bat her eyelashes at me while her date proudly showed her off, not noticing her attention. I wouldn't let her sleep in my bed while she was sort of dating someone else, but it wouldn't hurt to get a few favors in the bank for when she got tired of him and was single for a few weeks before finding a new boyfriend.

As a swimwear model, her schedule was always changing, and she was often gone for weeks at a time. She liked fast, dirty, no-strings-attached fucks in broom closets, back alleys, and back seats when she was around, and I was always happy to give her what she wanted. When I thought about our last meeting, I got a real smile on my face, which helped me as I went to the next table in the dining room.

*** I had made my way to the Assistant Attorney General's table and was listening to him praise the evening's special, a Lobster Newberg fusion made with bourbon instead of cognac and served in classic French vol au vent pastry shells drizzled with a house-made seafood aspic, when Sam walked up to me in his chef's whites.

I couldn't help but stifle a laugh as I saw Juno's eyes move slowly over my best friend. She liked the way he looked, but she was so not his type."Sorry," Sam said, putting one hand flat on his chest and looking very sorry. "I'm sorry to cut you off." He opened his big, blue-gray eyes wide and gave the people sitting around the table his most innocent and charming "scout's honor" look. This was the look that had always made people like him since we were six years old. "But there's a problem in the kitchen, and I'm afraid we really need Sebastian's help."

I fought the urge to laugh out loud. My best friend and business partner could act like a helpless kitten very well, but there was nothing in our business that he couldn't handle on his own.

"Of course, that's fine." The Assistant Attorney General graciously told us to leave. "I get it 100 percent."

Sam put his hand under my elbow and pushed me away. He thanked everyone in the group very much for understanding. As I turned away, Juno pouted at me, so I gave her a wink and then let myself be steered toward the kitchen.

"You're going to want to change that smug look for a serious one," Sam said in a low voice that only I could hear. "Here's your mother."

"What?" I snarled. My good mood went away right away, and I could feel my face folding into a familiar flat, blank mask that didn't say anything.

"Boy Toy is with her, too," he said in a whisper, letting go of my arm because he was sure I would now follow. "I hung them on the wall in the party room." He pointed quietly to the U-shaped staircase made of walnut that was blocked off with a red velvet rope. "She looks like that."

My stomach turned into a block of ice. "Fucking hell."

"Best of luck." Sam put his fingers together in a cross and put them to his temple. The grim salute was like a secret handshake between us. It was a way for each of us to show support for the other when they were facing the ugly side of pride politics.

I gave it back, gritting my teeth to keep from making a face. When Sam went back into the kitchen, I straightened my shoulders, put on a polite face, and unclipped the rope to climb the stairs.

As I started going up, I tried to guess what would happen next by going through different scenarios in my head. From the start, I made it clear that I didn't want Mother to go to the restaurant unless it was an emergency. I had also made it clear that I didn't like the fact that she was sleeping with a man two years younger than me.

She didn't care what I thought about Myles, and she never really respected my boundaries. However, she thought A Taste of Magic was beneath her, so she didn't show up very often. I couldn't think of anything I'd done recently that would have made them want to see me, but that didn't help. It wouldn't be good no matter what she wanted.

Sam, god bless him, had done what he could in a hurry to make things as easy as possible for everyone. He took Mother and Myles to the party room that was already set up for an event tomorrow night. The sparkling silver and glassware gave it a high-end, elegant feel, unlike the other room, which was empty and not ready for anything. He turned on the gas fireplace and got our most expensive champagne for us to drink.

When I walked in, Mother was standing with her back to me. She was talking to Myles, and as I walked in, I felt sick to my stomach because of the way Myles was looking at her.

He looked at me to let me know I was there, and my mother turned and handed him her glass as if he were a serving boy.

"Mother." I wasn't quite able to make the greeting warm, but it came out polite and proper. As I crossed the room, I put my palms up and spread my hands. As a shifter should be around their Alpha, they were respectful. "Why did you come to A Taste of Magic?"

"Business," she said in a clear voice, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at me with an authoritative look. "I've found a wife for you."

I just stared at her for a second before laughing. Nothing else could be done. She couldn't really mean that.

"Uh-huh?"

Mother's lips were pursed in a way that showed she was about to scold me sharply, but she didn't want to waste her breath on my useless, ungrateful hide.Instead, she said, "She's the new Alpha of that disaster wolf pack to the north."

That stopped me in my tracks.

"She has a grand plan to bring life back to the area," Mother told me, and the sneer in her voice made it clear how she felt about it. "She wants to keep the agreement between her pack and our pride. She won't succeed, but I'm not going to sit back and do nothing like I did during the last disaster."

My mind's red flags and sirens went off, telling me that something was wrong. When the old Alpha died, she was perfectly happy to watch the wolves eat each other alive. What was different now if this new Alpha's plans were so sure to fail? What was different this time that made her stick her nose into things?

"If she's busy with all of that," I said, carefully changing my tone, "I don't think she'll be interested in dating. Least of all by a male who wasn't part of her pack."

Mother huffed, and the way she rolled her eyes told me I was a stupid kid. "No, Sebastian, you're not going to date her." Her voice was rough. "I wouldn't trust you with something this important, you know that."

She turned to Myles and got her champagne, then turned back to me with a frown on her face. "I already set up the wedding as a condition for us to renew our agreement. She will take you to her bed because if she doesn't, her poor pack will be left in the dark.

Blackmail. She forced the new Alpha to marry her in exchange for a peace treaty. Unbelievable.

"You're going to get involved in every part of her life," Mother said in a cold voice. "I want to know who in that group could be dangerous and who could be helpful. You will steer her toward lenders and lawyers. Her pride already has a hold on her. If there is money to be made, I want it in our coffers, not dumped in that pack's little mud-hole of a town." Her eyes were shining.

"And if it all falls apart, as I expect it to, I'll have to step in and take charge, won't I? Not if my little boy is in danger."

That was so full of irony that I almost choked on it.

"Mom," I said, clenching my teeth so hard that a sharp pain shot up my jaw. "I have-"

"Don't whine that you have a business," she said sharply, cutting me off. "I've already given you way too much time to work on your little projects."

I was angry, and I could feel it under my skin and in my bones. "I'm not-"

"The best choice for this?" she cut in with a sniff of disapproval. "Please. Let's not act like I don't know that you like to sleep with less attractive women. If there's anyone who can make this chick forget what's going on right in front of her eyes, it's you."

Only a well-honed instinct to stay alive kept my disgusted and angry eyes from rolling back into my head.

Although Cassia had been sleeping around since she was fifteen, my mother didn't give a damn. No. Of course not, because the matriarchal rules of the pride said that my sister could do whatever she wanted. But god forbid I try as many of the pretty and willing women Boston had to offer as my sister did with the men she took to bed. That was a big mistake.

"I have plans," I said in a gravelly voice, trying hard not to snarl. "Sam-"

"Sam has all the skills he needs to run your business by himself." She gave me a mean look, and I could see something ugly behind her eyes. "But if you're that worried, you can choose."

I stopped taking in air. I knew how to play this game, but I didn't want to.

"Only three of the males in our pride are not useful to me or anyone else right now." Every word was short and sharp. "Zane, you, and Sam. If one of you doesn't go marry the wolf girl and do my bidding there, I'll take away all your protections."

I felt a flash of white-hot anger, which turned to ash in an instant. I always thought we might get to this point. I just hoped that by the time it came, I would have other plans. What a waste of time.

"Mother, I live to serve." I heard myself say the words, but they sounded strange and far away. "I assume you'll send me details."

Her face softened until it looked like a house cat who had just drank a whole bucket of cream. She purred, "Of course."

She waved Myles forward with a flick of her finger. He took her glass and put it down. Then, he went and got her coat and helped her put it on in a very gentlemanly way. As Myles put on his own jacket, Mother tucked her hands into her gloves.

"Tonight, Sebastian, pack your things. Tomorrow, I'll be expecting you to be on the road.

She left without waiting for a response, with Myles right behind her. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists when I was alone in the room. Loss had punched a hole through my chest that nothing would ever fill again.Everything I had worked so hard to build in my life was gone. *** Sam threw a dish at me from across the white granite of his kitchen island.

"Eat."

The sound of the ceramic on stone was too loud and rough. But then, since my mother walked out of A Taste of Magic in a hurry, every sound had been getting on my nerves. It wasn't a surprise that I had a rare but terrible headache.

Sam changed direction and reached for a bottle of Spanish red wine and two glasses. His apartment was just like mine, so I felt right at home there. When we opened A Taste of Magic, we bought two penthouses in Beacon Hill that were right next to each other. Just down a cobblestone street from the restaurant, our homes were close enough to walk to work, had a cool address when that mattered, and were the kind of big, comfortable places we'd grown up expecting to live in.

I took an appetizer plate from the stack on the island and filled it with perfectly plated bite-sized servings of Tortilla Espaola, Calamares Fritos, and Gambas al Ajillo, as well as bamboo skewers with prosciutto, chorizo, and chunks of Manchego cheese arranged in an artful way. I huffed as I took my plate to one of the deep chairs in the bay window nook and plopped down in it.

Sam gave us both deep glasses of wine and said, "You should call Zane." He brought them to the nook and put mine on the blocky side table at my elbow. His eyes were cloudy. "Just in case, tell them."

"No." I picked up a skewer and used my teeth to pull a piece of chorizo off of it. I then chewed it with anger.

Sam didn't say anything; he just turned around and went back to fill his own plate. We always ate tapas late at night after the restaurant closed. A chance to talk about how things went, bring up anything that might need to be fixed in the business, and talk about new menu ideas. Tonight, my mother's requests put a damper on what is usually a pleasant break. My anger toward her grew a little bit.

Sam came back and sat down in the chair next to me.

I took a bite. "I'm not going to call Zane because I won't let Mother take pride protections away from them or you."

I didn't say that my mother would let either of them take my place as the groom, but I didn't want to bring that up. I had never made my friends take punishments that were supposed to be for me, and I had no plans to start now.

Sam looked at me and asked, "You don't have a valid number, do you?" He didn't mean any harm. He broke up the question by putting a shrimp in his mouth.

"No," I admitted begrudgingly. "They're at an artists' retreat of some kind. Somewhere in the desert. "There are no phones."

Sam licked his fingers clean of garlic-butter sauce and laughed. "They might send you another statue thing when they're done."

I snorted. "God, I sure hope not."

For a moment, we both thought about the time when my sibling sent me the ugliest statue ever made. Zane had told me that it was made of "mixed media," which meant that it was made of whatever trash was around. My twin was the bane of our mother's life because he was two minutes younger than me, he was gender-fluid, and he was both crazy and brilliant like an artist. If there was one thing she hated more than a panther who wouldn't accept and follow the role and expectations of their place in the pride, it was a person who wouldn't give her a single binary gender that she could use to put them into those expectations. The final nail in their coffin was that Zane hated shifting and didn't even want to acknowledge that they were shifters.

Zane hadn't been kicked out of the pride yet because I was still useful to my mother and because I made it clear when Zane first said they were non-binary that my twin and I came as a package. Mother was never one to waste useful things, so she had made a deal.

Zane was sent to live with our late father's family until he was old enough to care for himself. I was told that they would be safe as long as I did what Mother wanted. She may have given me a lot of freedom, but we both knew that when it came down to it, I would give up.

The world was dangerous for shifters who didn't have a group to protect them, and Zane's safety was more important to me than anything I wanted for myself.

"All right," Sam said when we were done laughing about how we both remembered the statue thing.

"So you can't say no to this deal with the devil because Zane's safety is at stake. Fine. What do you think we should do?" As he talked, he picked at his food while he talked.

"We have lawyers who work for us. Since they don't know the pride or your mother, they should be able to help you make a prenuptial agreement that protects your assets. If everything goes wrong, at least you'll have money to start over."

"We need to put your name on the restaurant." Saying the words out loud made me feel sick, but it was one of the first thoughts I had that made sense after Mother left.

"What? No way!" Sam spoke up, and his eyes got very big. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and pushed his plate to the side. "Sebastian, we built this business together! I'm not going to take your share!"

"If you don't do it, she might," I shot back in anger.

"That wolf whore."

His brow went up. He said, "You don't know that." "Wolves don't have a single leader, right? It won't be the same as teaming up with another panther."

"Maybe." I reached for my glass and took a sip of wine. The taste of the wine was rich and mineral-y. "Maybe not." I stuck out my hand. "Didn't she make a deal with Mother? agreed to take a mate without seeing her first. That says something about who she is. "Fuck, I have no idea how old she is." I pinched my nose's bridge.

"For all I know, she could be as old as my mother." My stomach hurt from feeling sick. "I could take Myles' place."

Sam's nose turned up in disgust. "If that's the case, we can't let her anywhere near the business," he said. "But there must be a way out of this. Something besides just me taking your share."

I grumbled, "You might as well." I lifted my wine glass with a scowl on my face and tried to figure out if drinking it would help or hurt my stomach, which was already upset. "From what I can tell, I won't be here to do my part of the work for the foreseeable future. Y ou have a lot of hours to cover."

He made a face and leaned back in his seat.

"Right." He picked at the fabric of his pants as he looked out the window. "Okay, look," he said at last, turning his eyes back to me. "Tomorrow morning, I'll call the lawyers. Get them to start writing something, preferably something reversible, in case you manage to get out of this or your new wife agrees to allow you continue working on it as a hobby."

He made a face like the words he was saying tasted bad. I understood, but I wasn't going to let everything we'd worked for burn down because the truth was hard to face.

I grumbled, "You might as well." I lifted my wine glass with a scowl on my face and tried to figure out if drinking it would help or hurt my stomach, which was already upset. "From what I can tell, I won't be here to do my part of the work for the foreseeable future. Y ou have a lot of hours to cover."

He made a face and leaned back in his seat.

"Right." He picked at the fabric of his pants as he looked out the window. "Okay, look," he said at last, turning his eyes back to me. "Tomorrow morning, I'll call the lawyers. Get them to start writing something, preferably something reversible, in case you manage to get out of this or your new wife agrees to allow you continue working on it as a hobby."

He made a face like the words he was saying tasted bad. I understood, but I wasn't going to let everything we'd worked for burn down because the truth was hard to face.

I knew he wasn't happy by the way he acted. Sam was the one person I could never get to do what I wanted. He told them straight out, "I'm here." "You know I'll be there for you when you need me."

"Yeah." I took a deep breath and set my glass down. "I know. I should get going, though. I've gotta pack. "Get your act together!"

"Is the Mercedes yours?"

"It has snow tires on it." I usually didn't need them because the city kept the streets clean and I walked to work most of the time. But the SL65 was my go-to car in the winter, so I made sure it had everything it needed. I was sure that would help me out now. In the middle of the pack lands, God only knew how bad the mountain roads would be.

He gave me a grunt of agreement, and I put my dishes in the sink before going to my own place next door. I walked down the hall in silence, leaving the lights off in the front hall. As I turned on the lights in the master bedroom suite, I glared at the bed because it made me think of the way Juno had looked at me earlier tonight, like she was hungry. Whether or not my new wolf bride liked me, she wasn't going to let me hang out with other people. It was no longer possible to spend long, lazy weekends in bed with a willing woman.

I grabbed a duffle bag from the top shelf of my walk-in closet, threw it on the bed, and then started grabbing clothes. I didn't know yet what I'd need, so I took a little bit of everything.

Jeans and sweaters in case my fiancee liked the casual "kept man" look that my brother's wife made him wear. Business clothes, in case she wanted something more polished on her arm as she put her pack back together. I probably wouldn't be able to avoid shopping to get clothes that she likes, but at least I'd have enough to get by for a few days until she told me her rules.

When I was done, I undressed, took a shower, and threw myself into bed in a bad mood. I stewed quietly while staring at the dark ceiling. I'd do what I had to, but even Mother couldn't make me like it.