Prophecy Mates

by Mary Hughes

  “That parchment has been in your family for generations. I’m surprised your mother agreed to it.”

  “It’s mine,” Zoe said quickly. “Dad’s family. Mom was just holding it for me.”

  “Meaning what?”

  She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Mom doesn’t actually know.”

  “She what?”

  Zoe winced. “Noah, please don’t blab to her. I kind of had to. You know that round little woman who runs the weird bookstore in Matinsfield, with all the crystals and stuff?”

  “Only by reputation.”

  “Old lady Blue is a fortuneteller on the side. I bumped into her on my last visit home, and she told me I needed to get rid of the parchment or else.”

  Actually, Blue said if Zoe didn’t get rid of the parchment—on Halloween, no less—an evil witch would come and probably kill whoever possessed it. Shifters couldn’t identify witches on sight, but they did know about them. Evil witches were nasty, nightmare stuff. Zoe couldn’t leave the parchment with her mom.

  “That doesn’t sound good.” All the playfulness left Noah’s deep voice. “Or else what?”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. You know seers. Gotta pump up the doom.” Zoe peered into the display case, expecting to see the usual four words, HEART, MIND, SOUL, and KEY.

  Letters blazed across the top, Give this to the Light, Zoe—then poofed the instant she’d read them, throwing her heart into her throat.

  She gasped.

  “Zoe? What’s going on?” Noah’s growl wasn’t the cousin requesting information, it was the alpha-to-be demanding it. So alpha it made her human wince, and her wolf whine.

  But if she told him, he’d be on the next bus into town, despite pack women up north needing him more. How could she dodge this silver bullet?

  “Sorry, time to open the doors. Gotta go!” Zoe clicked off and tucked the small earpiece next to the key in her cleavage—plenty of room, with her measurements.

  Then, because she didn’t want to be a liar, she signaled the greeters to open the door.

  Tuxedoed men and women in dresses from long and floaty to short and sassy flowed into the room. Zoe smoothed hands along hips, her stomach churning with both nerves and excitement. It surprised her; her wolf wasn’t usually jumpy. A good run would take care of that, but she couldn’t leave her guests.

  She was double-checking the cheese table when she heard a cry.

  “Get your paws off me!”

  Female, high, stressed. Behind her.

  Zoe’s wolf snapped her around. Her gaze zoomed in on a woman in a simple, silver lamé sheathe at a nearby hors d’oeuvre table. A woman from the shelter.

  A would-be Romeo in a marquess’s sash with enough medals to be its own platoon had backed the woman into the table.

  “Stop it.” The woman slapped at the marquessy guy, fending off his hands, her flailing arms stirring a storm of rose petals and heart-shaped confetti. “I said stop.”

  “You like it, baby.” He grabbed private lamé and puckered up.

  Damn it, this was exactly what the woman didn’t need. Zoe ran in, seized the guy’s wrist and yanked it like the string of a yo-yo.

  He spun away from the woman, straight into Zoe’s glare.

  “Romance, asshole.” To make sure he got the message, she put a little wolf into it.

  His mask-on-a-stick dropped to swing from its ribbon. The surprised O of his mouth was almost funny.

  Then she breathed in, and the alcohol fumes surrounding him stung her nose like a liquor smog. The guy was practically one hundred proof. Either he’d loaded up before coming or he’d been bathing in the champagne fountain. “On second thought, you’re done.” She marched him toward the door, trying not to breathe too deeply.

  “Wh-why? I was romancing her.”

  “Romance does not mean feeling a woman up like a Japanese body pillow.” She shoved him toward the greeters. She’d have applied boot to butt if her dress hadn’t been in danger of doing a window-shade roll up.

  Twist her tail, this evening was not starting well. Palming her nape, she returned to the back of the room.

  A dark-haired man bent over the parchment case, caressing it as if studying it—or trying to make out with it, she wasn’t sure. Still, if he was interested in the parchment that meant he was classy, right?

  Zoe took a deep breath. Okay. Time to find romance. Donning her best Mona Lisa smile, she sidled up behind him and pitched her voice low and sultry, just short of Lookin’ for a good time, sailor? “Hello.”

  He jerked around as if annoyed.

  A brutal cowl of ripped, stitched leather, partially masking an equally brutal face, confronted her. Small, mismatched holes showed piggy eyes. His gaze dropped precipitously, catching on her breasts and heating as lustfully as if he had X-ray vision.

  She had to work to keep her smile in place. “I’m Lady Mystery.”

  “Not much mystery.” He pointed at her bared cleavage—like she was in danger of missing his clever wit. His voice was as rough as a chainsaw. Slowly, his gaze rose, not quite reaching the level of hers, and his lips curled in a smile made of creamed smarm. He held out his hand. “Zeus.”

  The name of the top-of-the-food-chain Greek god. No lack of ego there.

  Still, that flirting wasn’t going to do itself. She shook his hand briefly. Tried to let go, but he tightened his grip and used it to tug her closer. Her belly fluttered uneasily. He reeked of testosterone, the kind filled with anger and ambition. Her wolf’s senses were preternaturally heightened but even a human would have smelled it.

  “Let’s you and me get to know each other, Lady Mystery.” He rubbed a palm over her arm, not rough, but not entirely comfortable.

  She gritted her teeth and told herself she was overreacting. Flirt. Enjoy. “Sure.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders. His fingers traipsed along her collarbone until they tickled. But then they took a walk on the wild side of her breastbone, spelunking down her cleavage.

  Enough was enough. She cleared her throat to make some classy excuse to beat his head into the wall.

  Before she could, a buzz at the door distracted her. She glanced up as the crowd parted.

  A blond man glided in like a panther, stopped, and stood there, as tall and confident as if he owned the place. He was built like a true Greek god, inverted triangle torso on long, strong legs. His golden hair shone lustrous in the electric light. His strong features accented by a rakish black mask drew the eye of every female in the room.

  * * *

  After the ballroom doors opened, Daniel waited until the crowd had thinned to make a proper entrance.

  He stepped into the ballroom with confidence. The space was lavishly decorated, an orchestra to one side. He gently flirted with a pair of blonde greeters.

  Then the crowd parted.

  A woman stood there. The rest of the room faded until bright light haloed her and only her.

  Spring-green eyes shone against the black of her domino mask. Glossy hair rippled like a living mahogany waterfall. Her lush figure was banded provocatively in black glitter. She held herself with the sensuous grace, not of a dancer, but a lioness.

  Daniel’s heart leaped and began to pound. His blood heated until it almost boiled. He started toward her with a lion’s hunting prowl.

  As he neared, her scent hit him, a complex mixture of jasmine, saffron, and woman. That scent…

  He knew her.

  His breath caught. Pulse leaping, he took one last stuttering step toward her.

  High school memories crowded him. Her lush body, her sweet smile, her kind soul…and the most erotic dreams a boy ever had. Or a man still had.

  Zoe Blackwood.

  * * *

  Zoe peeled off Zeus’ arm and moved from him as if he’d never existed.

  The blond man’s gaze swung to her—and stopped.

  Instant connection sang between them. It rang in her ears, in her blood, so powerful and shocking it kicked the
air out of her lungs.

  The man started toward her, cutting through the crowd like a sleek ship.

  Her breath returned in quick, excited puffs.

  His scent hit her as he neared, catapulting her back in time to cheerleading sweaters and smoking blunts in the woods…and the burnt scent of an almost-failed chemistry class.

  “Damn my paws,” she muttered.

  Daniel Light.

  Chapter Two

  Daniel knew his mouth had dropped open, but he couldn’t seem to care. Zoe had been a gorgeous young woman, but time had only sharpened her appeal, honing her features and adding the sparkle of wit and wisdom to her eyes, green like new grass and even more startling against her black domino.

  And, oh yeah, her curves were now so lush his hands itched to shape them through that painted-on thing she wore.

  He swallowed a sudden influx of saliva. Nearly choked on his swollen, hot tongue. His hands weren’t the only things that wanted to slick along her curves. On the plus side, swallowing forced him to shut his idiotic mouth.

  Her eyes were big in her mask, her gaze riveted on him. He couldn’t tell if it was in interest or in horror that the high school dork was back.

  No. He wasn’t that gangly teen anymore. He was a strong, confident man. He glided closer, until only inches and a breathless silence separated them.

  Daniel had dreamed of this moment a thousand times over the years. They’d meet, laugh over how they’d changed since high school, but reconnect over shared memories. Over drinks they’d move on to what was happening now in their lives, then dinner, then more drinks in a quickly secured hotel room, turning into a whirlwind of lovemaking.

  His fantasies nearly overpowered him with the intense desire to grab her, to bend her over the crisp linen covered table, pound himself into her shapely body… He reined himself in.

  Tonight was about romance.

  He pasted on a practiced smile, surprised at how hard it was, surprised even more when his blasé emotional mask slipped, and he had to scramble to reclaim it. But he called on every ounce of his self-control and managed a suave, “Lovely lady.”

  “Handsome gentleman.” She offered her hand.

  He lifted it to his lips, lingering over her soft skin, her luscious scent. Just as he remembered it, but with a deeper, darker feminine note. “My name is—”

  “No names tonight.” Her voice was as lyrical as he remembered, too, with an added sexy breathiness. “I’ll be Lady Mystery. And you can be My Hero.” She touched fingertips to his tux-covered biceps.

  He straightened, his muscles pumping with vigor, his body swelling with pride. She’d always done that to him. Made him feel stronger than he was, better.

  Did she know that? Did she even realize in high school, when she was kind to him, she was the first to see past his gangly, sand-kicked-face exterior to the heart of the hero inside? Did she know that, over a thousand small touches and gestures in chemistry class, he’d fallen in love with her, and she was the reason he’d made himself over into the image of a super stud?

  One way to find out.

  “No names,” he agreed. “And I don’t mean to be cliché, but haven’t we met before?”

  “Oh, no.” Her smile ripened. “I wouldn’t forget a man like you.”

  A small part of him was disappointed. She had forgotten him.

  But his more practical side rejoiced. He had a second chance with Zoe Blackwood, a chance to impress the one woman who’d been kind to him when he’d only had his heart and his dreams. And this time…

  His breath came faster. This time, he’d court her to the best of his ability, and this time, he’d actually have a chance to win her, because nothing would get in his way, not his weakling body or her jock boyfriends or even the prophecy…

  Blasted bats and broomsticks. The Quatrain. He had to court the Queen of Hearts.

  Not Zoe.

  His heart contracted painfully. He desired to be Zoe’s romantic hero, so much it burned. But if the Quatrain fell into the wrong hands…well, their seer hadn’t given specifics beyond doom, but magical prophecies tended to end less in kitten-has-a-sad and more in apocalyptic, shambling, end-of-the-world horrors.

  Much as he wanted to be Zoe’s romantic hero, he’d have to be a real hero, tear himself away, and find the Queen of Hearts.

  Daniel tried to make some excuse and leave.

  He couldn’t do it.

  It shocked him. Underneath his frivolous exterior, he was a wizard prince, with all that implied. He had willpower and concentration enough to restrain a demon. Surely, he could step away from the lush temptation that was Zoe Blackwood?

  Again, he opened his mouth to make some flirty excuse to leave…and fell into her spring-green eyes. Instead of turning away, he stepped in, closing the gap that separated them. His hand rose almost of its own volition to cup her head. Her hair streamed through his fingers like silky warm water.

  Her ruby lips parted in soft surprise.

  He’d dreamed for years of kissing Zoe Blackwood, waking with tangled sheets and dampened skin. So he had to. He really did.

  Bending, he covered her open mouth with his.

  The dreams were sweet—reality was even sweeter. She tasted fresh, exciting, soft yet strong. The heat of her mouth scorched him.

  She released a soft moan, which resonated deep inside, desire vibrating his very cells. He wrapped his arms around her, her arms twining his neck in return. The fact that she had to lift herself to do so surprised him. She’d seemed so regally tall in high school. Now, he commanded her by half a foot or more.

  Zoe pressed into him, rubbing like a cat. Her breasts pillowed against him, full and ripe. He delighted in her bountiful, feminine feel, rubbing sensuously against her in return, as if he could mark her with his scent…

  A sound like a burr ruffled his ears, jarring his concentration. He couldn’t quite identify it over the heavy thudding of his own heart.

  She stepped back. He had trouble letting go, until he sensed her agitation.

  The burr. He released her as he finally identified it—and wanted to bang his head against a cauldron when he realized why she was turning red.

  They were getting applauded.

  * * *

  Zoe stepped back from Daniel’s embrace, the clapping ringing in her ears. She plucked ineffectively at her bodice, trying to hide the hard poke of her nipples.

  What have I done?

  Besides kissing a man in front of a whole ballroom of elegant people, that was.

  Her cheeks heated. This ball was supposed to be about romance, not sex. Yet the first thing she’d done was set the wrong example, kissing Daniel passionately in front of everyone, with only their applause keeping her from doing a helluva lot more.

  The blunder hit her between the shoulder blades, and she hunched with a gasped sob.

  To her surprise, Daniel moved to shield her. Blocking the crowd’s view, he slid a finger under her chin, tilting her head up until she met his gaze. She remembered those gorgeous blue eyes from high school, his best feature, spokes of silver around each pupil like a magical stars exploding.

  Now, his compassion shone in them, highlighted by his mask—compassion, and a wry acknowledgment of their blunder. Theirs, not hers.

  The embarrassment tingling in her belly and ears melted away.

  He was standing by her, with her. Helping her. Protecting her, if she needed it.

  Just like high school.

  Daniel Light, the one boy who hadn’t been just trying to get in her pants. Her chem lab partner; the only partner who hadn’t failed her. His help was why she’d passed the class.

  She’d underestimated that selfless aid then. Didn’t really appreciate a guy who simply saw she was struggling and stepped in—not for any reward, but just to make her life better.

  Those days, she’d been more interested in the feel of jocks’ muscles under her hands.

  But now?

  She’d changed since high school. Now,
she appreciated character as much as brawn.

  But Daniel had changed, too, no longer the cute-but-scrawny kid with the clunky glasses. He’d grown up, and very, very well. An Adonis of a man. Tall, muscular, with strong jaw and straight nose, the only thing that was the same was the blond hair like sunshine and eyes like blue novas sparkling behind his mask.

  He smiled down at her. Her belly shimmied. She wanted to kiss him again, to thrust her hands into his bright hair and feel his tongue drive into her mouth and more.

  Guilt made her pause.

  In high school, with the self-centeredness of youth, she’d been thoughtless of him—grateful for his help, but never acknowledging what it cost him. Sure, she’d thanked him, but she’d never done anything in return, never helped him or dated him or even gone and bought him coffee. Later, she’d come to realize he’d probably had feelings for her, and her indifference might have hurt him. Not intentional, but it was one reason she’d never tried to reconnect with him, not wanting to reopen any wounds.

  But tonight, he didn’t seem to know who she was.

  A new opportunity with him.

  Zoe leaned in. “Shall we step out of the limelight?” She nodded toward the far corner, where the cheese table was nearly deserted.

  “It is a bit difficult to whisper sweet nothings in your shell-like ear with half the ballroom watching.”

  “Only half? I’m disappointed.”

  “Then I lied. It’s everyone. I’m glad you’re not too embarrassed.”

  His gaze was warm and appreciative, and she felt lighter simply basking in the admiration she saw there.

  “Why should I be? I just kissed the handsomest man in the place.” Her wolf yipped agreement—and howled for something more. It wanted to throw him to the floor, lift her skirt, and make him hers in the way of the pack—in front of everyone.