The Billionaire Ritual

by Malone, Amy

  There was something about Cameron Caine. It was in his gait as he slowly prowled, in his husky voice as he spoke to each employee, in his gleaming eyes that sparkled with attentiveness and mystery. He was more a man than any Lynn had ever seen, from his demeanor shimmering with power to his countenance sparkling with confidence.

  Lynn was content merely to watch him. Shooting furtive glances out of the corner of her eye as he made his rounds around the office checking the work of his subordinates had become standard. There would come a time when she would look on the memory of such moments, fantasizing about him at a distance, with embarrassment and a wry nostalgia.

  It was October. The office retreat neared, and the employees in her office were abuzz with who would be going. There were always a limited amount of cabins, and as the company grew selection for the trip with the boss became more and more of a coveted prize. Despite her crush, Lynn had never really considered going on the trip. She hated outdoor events, preferring a movie in a theater or a cup of coffee at a local café. If you ever want to grab lattes, Cameron, put me at the top of your list, she thought, smiling. She woke from her thoughts to a blinking cursor in her spreadsheet on her computer screen.

  Cameron worked his way down to Lynn’s cubicle, stopping briefly to greet each employee as he went along. He recalled their names and the details of their personal lives with careful precision. It was important, after all, to keep his employees happy. Lynn could feel his presence, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as her face grew warm. Her transparent nature had won trust and affection from both friends and colleagues alike, but she often thought the charm wasn’t worth her inner most feelings being left open to read.

  Lynn felt a presence stop behind her in her cubicle entrance. She could nearly feel every shift in his muscles as he stood behind her, patiently giving her a chance to notice his presence. Coming from him it wasn’t an act of timidity so much as a declaration that it was impossible not to notice him. Lynn turned around and smiled, her head leaning to the side as she licked her lips and played with her hair. It was hard to define, but it felt like something subtle was happening before their conversation even began. It was just a half beat of a moment where the energy in the room changed, but it was gone in an instant. He locked eyes with her, entrancing her with the most mundane topics. It was the sound of his voice, the intent inherent in it that made Lynn tingle with a nervous energy. It was a palpable tension, and after the first few minutes she noticed heads peering over from adjacent cubicles.

  “I’ve been noticing your work, Lynn. It looks good,” Cameron said, the faintest hint of a smirk at one corner. I sensed an ever-so-slight, barely- perceptible emphasis on the word ‘good’. As if to imply that my work wasn’t all that looked good. Lynn immediately chalked it up to wishful thinking.

  “Thank you, sir. We’ve all been working hard,” Lynn said, all too aware that her colleagues were listening.

  “I’m sure,” Cameron said, understandingly surveying the room briefly. He turned to go, but there was something in his demeanor that caught Lynn’s attention. It was almost as if he turned to leave more slowly than usual, reluctantly, meaningfully. Just as she was wondering whether the whole thing had been in her imagination, he turned around again.

  “I hope you’ll be joining us at the retreat this time.”

  In that brief sentence, in his voice and in his eyes, he managed to contain a raw and unabashed sexual pressure. She felt a jolt go through her me, tingling down her spine and melting into a warm glow in her thighs. It was suddenly very hot. Lynn still intended not to go. Aside from being too shy to explore his intent, she still hated being away from the city. What Lynn meant to say was: “Oh thank you. But I really don’t like the outdoors. Maybe next time.” What came out was different.

  “Uh…um….Okay.”

  After Cameron left, she stared at the space where he’d stood, speechless. Her mind searched for an exact reason why she had said yes. Lynn could find none. To be sure she was dazzled by the directness of his request, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to embarrass or insult him, but that didn’t explain it completely. Something was happening between them. A sort of dance, a ritual between man and woman as old as time. As she was compelled to follow its rhythm, to enact its steps.

  After work, some of Lynn’s co-workers went for cocktails at a local bar, and she with them. Lynn had hoped the entire incident had gone unnoticed. No such luck.

  ”So what was the deal with Mr. Caine today, Lynn?” Angela asked, sipping on her large margarita in mock innocence. “I heard he gave you an extra ‘good job’ on his rounds,” she said. Angela had a way of making anything she wanted, which was everything, sound dirty.

  “Ooh, what happened?” Tina asked. She was tall and thin in an awkward way, and shy besides. Tina loved to be the audience or side kick, preferring that to the spotlight.

  “Well, it looks like Lynn here got a little extra attention from the boss, today. My only question is: was it the first time?”

  Despite myself, as Angela raised her eyebrow at the end of the question I found myself laughing.

  “You are crazy, girl. And don’t go repeating that elsewhere. You know it only takes one rumor to ruin someone at that office.”

  That shut her up. People who’d worked in the office years and those who were new hires all knew the story of one of the girls who had carried on an illicit affair with the previous manager and had gotten the ax along with him. When word got out, neither she nor he had been allowed to set foot in the building again. Her desk in his office had been cleared over night, and the Cameron - son of the CEO/owner of the company - had stepped in to personally oversee things. Lynn knew well, however, that bringing it up in conversation had its own set of downsides.

  “I knew that girl was up to something. You should’ve seen the way she and that man would look at each other. I’m just saying, girl. Be careful.”

  Lynn smiled. Angela was a gossip and blabbermouth, but also a good friend.

  The weekend of the retreat rolled around and the Lynn found, to her annoyance, that Angela and Tina had signed on. She wanted to believe it was just an opportunity for them to hang out as a group away from the city, but knew Angela too well. She was sure Angela’s motivation, in part, was to be at ground zero of any drama she might find herself entangled in with Cameron or anyone else.

  Lynn sighed to herself. It was going to be a long weekend.

  Cameron Caine stalked the Temple hall nervously. The Council had called him suddenly and without warning. That wasn’t good.

  The waiting hall was lit by pit fires set between columns, giving the place a solemn tone. A large wooden door creaked open, and a wolf shifter in traditional robes peered his head out and gestured for him to enter, pulling the door wide but never taking his eyes off Cameron. His purple robe and distinctive white fur marked him as being from the house of Camille.

  A Shifter Temple was a place for shifters of varying degrees of influence and power to meet to come to decisions. This particular temple was located within a major city, so major shifting was strictly forbidden, but minor shifts that allowed you to identify yourself as part of one of the head shifter families was common. The young wolf in robes had rich brown fir on his hands and face. Cameron himself let his yellow wolf’s eyes show.

  The council chamber was set up like a large amphitheater. One could make a guess about the importance of the meeting and the rank of it’s’ members by the level of light in the room. It was pitch black except for a podium in the center hit with a narrow shaft of light from above.

  Cameron swallowed hard as strained his eyes against the light at the summon podium. For minute or so there was nothing but silence and Cameron became concerned tha
t no one was actually there, but a voice spoke.

  “Cameron, you have been summoned by the High Council of the House of Wolves. Do you know why?”

  There could be only one reason.

  “The mate selection ceremony. The details have all been arranged. Is there an issue?”

  Cameron suppressed a smirk at the stunned silence. There were few who dared to speak to any council of any rank in such a manner, less to a High Council. However, Cameron was no fool. If the High Council was gathered, then politeness would not change the outcome of the situation. Probably, it had already been decided before he entered the room. The voice spoke once again:

  “As you know, if you fail to secure a mate by your four-hundredth moon, any male blood relation may challenge your house leadership by death match.”

  A jolt ran through Cameron as the words rang in his ears. There was a brief moment of confusion in his mind before the truth shone through like a startling revelation: someone was challenging his house leadership. His mind raced to brace himself for what could be coming next. Who had challenged him? Who would dare? He got along with most of his male kin, and he was his father’s only heir. The distant relations were either interested more in the political struggles in their own areas or barely participated in council matters at all, choosing their human side over their inner beast.

  In the seconds as his mind raced, he realized that there was someone who would challenge him. After all, he might be his fathers’ only heir, but he wasn’t his father’s only child. He had a sister who, along with him, had been the only surviving wolf cubs of his liter. It couldn’t be her though. Only male wolves were allowed to vie for succession, a fact his sister was familiar with only all too well.

  “Who challenges me?” Cameron said, his back straightening, his demeanor become more intimidating.

  A second shaft of light shone onto another podium, some feet ahead of him. Two guards stood on either side. They each held ceremonial staffs, but Cameron was sure each would have a side arm. Fighting during a council meeting was absolutely forbidden, but it was not unheard of for a challenged wolf to tear his opponents’ throat out on the spot.

  Into the shaft of light came a form, wearing a white robe that was identical to either white guard. Cameron saw now that wearing a suit had been a mistake. This person, whoever they were, had chosen the ceremonial white robes of his clan over him, the person who was supposed to be rightful successor. Two hands removed his hood to reveal his face. It was Robert.

  “I Robert Caine challenge you, Cameron Caine, on condition that you do not find your life mate by the four-hundredth full moon of your life.”

  Cameron felt his blood boil in his veins, and found himself suddenly grateful that there were guards. While he treasured and embraced his inner wolf as a part of himself, he did not like to lose control of it anymore than of his inner human. He was sorely tempted to do so.

  Robert Caine was relatively minor cousin, but one whom he had grown up with since they were both pups. When Cameron’s mother and most of his brothers and sisters had died during childbirth, Robert’s mother had been a stand-in mother for both Cameron and his sister, Caitlin. Robert and he hadn’t spoken for years, but it still stung. He wanted to ask why he had done this privately, but the challenged and the challenger were forbidden to meet outside of the council chambers until their battle. Prevention of foul play was the reasoning, but Cameron suspected it also prevented reconciliation just as often - if not more.

  More to the point, Cameron had less than no desire to kill Robert and even less to kill the only son of the person who had been the only mother he had ever known. Robert had only sisters, and his mother had doted on both he and Cameron when they were young. At any rate, Cameron was stuck. Succession was sacred; he could not shame his father and doom his children by exercising his right to forfeit. The children of the losers or forfeiters of succession battles carried the shame for generations.

  “Robert Caine, I accept your challenge. As the challenged I exercise my right to set the date anytime before the moon following the four-hundredth. I choose the night after that moon. One way or another, there is no need to draw out this unpleasantness.”

  “Agreed,” Robert responded. Then, after a pause, “Will you not consider forfeit?”

  “I am Cameron Caine, successor to the Caine legacy, heir to the first house of wolf. Forfeit is no option, which you should have known. Victory or death, my brother.”

  The room was silent as the council watched. Shaft of light or no, there was only so much an obfuscation tactic such as that could blind his wolves’ eyes. He could make out forms in the amphitheater arrangement, mostly in hoods of the colors of the different houses. Most of the hoods were pulled up to hide their faces. Cameron assumed that Robert was familiar with most of them. Submitting a challenge without assurances that the council would recognize it was suicide. The offending challenger could be killed outright at any time by the challenged or a hired wolf - as he or she was not protected by the rules of challenge.

  Cameron could only make out a few of the faces in the crowd, mostly ones that were close to him or had their hoods pulled back. Two faces that Cameron noticed were that of his father and sister standing side by side. That his father was here made sense, he was part of the high council, but what was Caitlin doing here? Both their hoods were pulled back, and Caitlin’s eyes glinted with an expression Cameron did not recognize.

  “Then it is agreed,” Robert said. Cameron heard sadness in his voice.

  After the meeting was done, a few of the council members, those who weren’t afraid to have their identities known, congregated in the hall. Cameron stayed and mingled, being sure to let them know there were no hard feelings. After all, if he survived, one day he would be among them - or else their successors. And wolves had long memories.

  Cameron spotted his father in the crowd chatting amiably with another member, and went over to greet him. Upon seeing his approach, the other council member bowed politely to Cameron and dismissed himself.

  “My son, I am sorry for this. It is my fault,” his father said it in a low voice, but not a whisper. Whispers draw attention; his father had taught him long ago.

  “Not so, father. This was bound to happen, eventually. The business and social affairs of the human side of our lives have taken too much precedence. We’ve ruled unchallenged for too long, and have grown complacent. I think we both saw this coming, but thought we had more time.”

  “Agreed, and perhaps normally we would’ve. But the timing of your mate selection is too good an excuse to challenge to pass up. Speaking of which, I have found someone you should meet.” His father waved his hand, and a pretty young she wolf walked over. She was wearing the ceremonial robes of the house of Font, and she let her wolf snout show through. Although he wondered what she looked like in human form, he found the combination of features to be bold and lovely. More importantly, it tugged at the wolf part of him more than the human, which he was sure had been calculated. He wondered vaguely about whose idea it had been: hers or Cameron’s fathers.

  “I am Sheila of the House of Font. We would like you to know that our house lends its support in these trying times.”

  She curtsied slightly in respect, meeting Cameron’s eyes intently. In the circumstances, the importance of their introduction was clear. Drake, Cameron’s father, intended to choose a woman for him - in one stroke staving off advances from other houses and solidifying their position as a powerful political union. Sheila was beautiful. Probably she was smart as well. Drake would be careful to choose someone who could help him navigate the current political climate. For his own part, Cameron thought Sheila was attractive, and he was sure that she would make a fine wife. For someone.

  And that was just it. Cameron couldn’t give his feelings to this girl. He’d already given them to someone else. Almost everyone knows that wolves mate for life, but what few know is that this fact is based on a deeper truth. Wolves choose for life. After a wolf choose
s and a she-wolf accepts, mating is merely a formality. When courting, a wolf may look over his options as much as he likes. Things were far more liberal now, and a wolves and she-wolves could even choose to have sexual affairs - though this certainly came with its own set of problems.

  The point was: Cameron had chosen. His heart belonged to a mousy little office employee whose cubicle had, over a year, gradually become the highlight of his day. He’d had a strict policy of avoiding fraternization with his employees - at least of the casual type. Drake had sent his son in to clean up just such a situation, after all.

  But once he realized she was mating ceremony material, once he’d confirmed through the little things - a slight shift in her smell here, a lustful glance in his direction when she thought he wasn’t looking there - he knew she was the one. Time was of the essence, details such as marriage papers might be relevant on the human side of things, but carried very little weight with wolves. In fact, a marriage that had been recognized by every institution - religious, human, or even shape-shifter - meant little to one whose consummation had been seen or heard by witnesses, or proven by children. In fact, a marriage ceremony did not begin until after the ceremony of witnessing, and did not technically end until the wife was pregnant. These were hurdles that would slow him further, as his woman of interest was fully human. Now he had a third barrier: his father’s choice of bride. Cameron smiled politely and chatted with the two of them as he searched fervently in his mind for any flaw, any reason why the union of him and Sheila was less than perfect and wise. He couldn’t. When Sheila finally and, it seemed, reluctantly excused herself, Cameron was left without anything to say to his father that wouldn’t make matters worse. At best, his father would laugh, carefully and patronizingly explaining to Cameron why marrying a human woman would be political suicide given the current state of affairs, even if it did avoid the challenge with Robert. At worst, finding that his son would not make his favored decision while the human woman lived, he would have her killed.