by Emma Roman
Something her aunt was always reminding her of. The Vegas region was her responsibility. Her sisters had abandoned it to her. Samantha had abdicated, wanting nothing to do with the royals that nearly killed her and her fated mate.
“Can’t really blame her for that, can you?” Her inner wolf whispered the question.
“No.”
The driver raised an eyebrow and stopped the black town car in front of a large wrought iron gate. He lowered his window and a gust of arctic air chilled her face like the slap of a hand. “It’s so cold.”
“Winter in Canada is cold, ma’am,” the driver replied, punching in a code to a keypad for the gate.
A snarky comment nearly shot out in reply, but she managed to strangle it halfway between her brain and her mouth. No need to irk the staff, especially if she decided to choose Montague as a mate—correction—husband.
The gate screeched open slowly and they proceeded through at a snails pace. Snow lined both sides of the freshly plowed drive. Large cedar and spruce trees blocked the view of what Hallie supposed was a large house. The Montague’s were quite wealthy, probably more so than even her family. She didn’t like the idea of marrying for money or power, but she did want to make her parents proud. Make her aunt proud. Make the Demakis original proud. She was his legacy. The only one left who could follow tradition if she could just manage to make a choice.
Forty-two suitors. Nineteen countries. Twenty-three weeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home, much less a time when she hadn’t been living out of a suitcase. Exhaustion alone might make her settle on this last man before even taking a look at him.
They turned a bend in the road a few minutes later and Hallie managed not to blurt out a cry of shock. Not only were the Montague’s wealthy, she was pretty sure what they called an estate could double as a castle.
Three stories of grey granite stone etched with columns and gables reminiscent of Greek architecture stood impressively on the hill ahead. Nothing she’d seen on her trip thus far had come close to comparing.
They passed through another gate, opened and waiting for them, engraved with a large M. From there the drive led into a courtyard and circled around under a covered pass-thru at a grand entrance. The front door had to be at least ten or fifteen feet tall.
Shielded from most of the fluffy rampage of snowflakes swirling in the gusty wind, a man in a plain black suit stepped toward the stopped car and opened her door.
She stepped out, wincing again at the bite of the cold air.
Another man stepped through the large door with a smile that could’ve melted a glacier. It certainly put her nerves at ease. “Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you.” She took his extended hand, hoping for a spark. Something that would tell her Montague was the right choice. Something beyond business.
He was good-looking, tall, a great smile. Flashing green eyes. Hair as black as night, curled and grazed the tops of his shoulder. Reginald Montague could’ve been a GQ model in another life.
“It’s a pleasure to have you, Miss Demakis. Your aunt has said so many wonderful things. I’m eager to get to know the woman behind the stories.”
Oh. What had her aunt said.
“Probably everything,” her wolf said, her annoyance festering on her soul like a blister ready to rupture.
“It’s so good to be here. You have a spectacular home. Please call me Hallie.” She said, unable to keep from craning her neck as they walked in the front entry. The foyer alone was bigger than her large loft back in New York.
“Wonderful. Please extend me the same courtesy. Although my name is Reginald as I’m sure you’re well aware, most friends call me Dante.”
She turned toward him and raised a curious eyebrow.
“My middle name.” His tone carried a hint of amusement through the formal tone he’d used so far. “Glad you like the house, though I suppose we would be moving to Las Vegas to take permanent residence in your family home? That is at least what I understood from your aunt’s correspondence. Montague house would always be an excellent vacation home.”
“Right.” Wait. What? Who was this guy to just assume he would be her choice. “Except this—us—isn’t a done deal yet. Just a date. An introduction.”
“Of course and a Valentine’s date nonetheless. Where are my manners? I’m just so pleased to have this opportunity.” He continued on as if she hadn’t just attempted to dash all his hopes to the ground and stomp on them in her three-inch black patent pumps. “Stories about your family have circulated since your family’s original sire came back to the council. It’s all anyone talks about.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” She had, but gossip wasn’t something Hallie liked to listen to. The fact that this man did, didn’t earn him any brownie points. Neither did the fact that he hung onto her arm like a clingy two-year-old.
If he wasn’t so pretty, she’d have come up with an excuse to turn around and walk right out again.
“Shallow much?” her wolf chided.
Shut it. If I have to force myself into a marriage, at least I’m sexually attracted to him. She waited for a response. No comment? Fine. Be that way. Her wolf wasn’t attracted to the royal at all. Never had been attracted to a single guy she’d ever been with or dated…ever. But the choices had all been interviewed, dated, and discussed. Her aunt had informed her on the flight up to this out of the way Canadian town that Montague would be a great choice and her last choice. She’d exhausted the list of eligible royals.
It all came down to Reginald—correction, Dante—and a Valentine’s Day date. Gods, she wanted to barf. This was not the road she’d seen her duty to her parents taking her down.
“The dining hall is this way, would you like to see the preparations?”
“Of course. Thank you. My bag is—”
“Vance,” Dante bellowed. A man appeared from the shadows. Long and lean. Blue eyes that captured her gaze for a moment and took her breath away. His blond hair was cut short, almost in a military buzz. He walked like a predator, footsteps soundless on the marble floor as he approached. “Vance, get the lady’s bags from the car and take them to her prepared guest suite.”
The man—Vance—broke eye contact and Hallie felt her wolf awaken and howl in disappointment at the loss of the connection. “Mate. He’s ours. You found him.”
You can’t be serious. Hallie thought back, struggling to keep her body posture relaxed and unfocused on the male exiting the hallway. The male that her wolf thought was their mate. The man’s mere glance had stilled her heart in her chest. They hadn’t even touched and she trembled at the thought. What would it have been like if they had?
She couldn’t let it happen. This was a diplomatic date. A mission so-to-speak. She couldn’t miss something she never had. Now all she had to do was avoid Dante’s man.
“Indefinitely?”
You’re not helping. I have to do this. I have responsibilities.
“Who says he’s not the right choice instead of this highfaluting pampered pretty-boy?”
You do remember I’m rich too.
Irrelevant.
“Hallie?”
“S-sorry,” she sputtered, turning to face Dante once more. “I got caught up in my thoughts. It’s been such a long trip.”
“Of course. Here I am dragging you all around this stuffy old house when you’d probably much rather take a bath and relax for a few hours before dinner. The chef is preparing your favorite —venison steak diane. I took the liberty of asking your aunt for suggestions.”
“That’s so kind of you. It’s been too long since I enjoyed that dish. I look forward to dinner,” Hallie answered, regaining most of her poise and control, although her wolf was still practically prancing and yipping with glee that their fated mate was within reach.
Dante waved down a female staff person. “Martha, please escort Miss Demakis to her suite upstairs.” He released Hallie’s arm and grasped her hand instead. “Please excuse me, I have
a few business matters waiting for my attention.”
Hallie nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll see you for dinner.”
He bowed, let go of her hand and then walked away, leaving her to navigate the churning sea of doubt growing in her mind and heart.
2
The female…
The second she’d entered the room his wolf had leapt to attention and strained against his mind, growling and whining that they needed to get closer. Easier said than done when the female in question was his boss’s Valentine’s date. But then Dante had sent him for the woman’s luggage. Now the perfect excuse to see her again was rolling in a small black and gold carry-on bag behind him.
Her scent was exhilarating in a way he’d never experienced before. His skin prickled like thousands of tiny pins were being scraped slowly over every inch. His core temperature had risen and his wolf was being obnoxious.
“You’d be obnoxious too if you would just admit she’s our mate.” His wolf snapped.
She’s Dante’s date. No way is a royal female going to pay me any mind when she could have the Montague estate as her own.
“She might.”
Royals don’t listen to their wolves. She didn’t react when I came in the room. She didn’t feel the magick. Vance countered silently to his wolf.
“She met our gaze. She felt it,” his wolf answered.
Vance shook his head and leaned down to grip the handle of the suitcase. He lifted it from the floor and bounded up the stairs, hopeful the connection his wolf was imagining was as strong as he claimed. Following the line of the hallway into the left wing of the house, he stopped in front of the guest suite Montague had prepared for the American royal female.
The Montague royal had redecorated and re-designed the entire suite especially for this date. No expense had been spared. New carpets. New wall paper. New furnishings. And he’d had the kitchen preparing food for days for the dinner tonight. A special chef had been flown in. String players were arriving within the hour. Everyone was preparing for the date—a date that would start in less than four hours.
A date his wolf was disturbingly sure would never happen.
He stopped and knocked at her suite door.
No answer.
“Ma’am. Miss Demakis?” He raised his voice. Still no answer. Leaning his ear to the door, he heard the sound of running water and a woman’s voice. If she was in the bathroom suite, his chance to see her before dinner became non-existent. He turned the door knob and stepped into the empty room. “Miss Demakis? I have your bag.” He called again, raising his voice again—loud enough to be heard over the running water. At least he hoped.
The bedroom door hung ajar. The clothes she’d been wearing only a few minutes ago were strewn across the white bedspread. His wolf growled and he tried to envision grandmothers in bathing suits to ward off the rapidly growing erection inside his slacks. It didn’t work. All he could see in his mind was a vision of her creamy white skin. Bared to him. Pink and warm and wet.
The water shut off and the bathroom door swung open. “Could you just put it—”
Her long blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her blue eyes flashed and she clutched the fluffy white robe around her neck a little tighter, making her knuckles whiten. Her throat tightened and her lips parted into a small O. She was beautiful. Her scent filled the room and he had to remind himself to exhale. The magick he’d felt in their brief passing downstairs flooded his system again
“In the bedroom?” He asked, struggling to keep his voice from breaking like a hormonal teenage boy’s.
“Yes. Thank you. Just beside the bed is fine.”
He hurried past her, into the bedroom and set the bag on the floor at the foot of the large four poster mahogany bed frame. When he turned to go back into the sitting area of the guest suite she stood in the doorway. Watching him. Staring so intently he thought he could feel it in his soul.
“Touch her,” his wolf whispered. “Everything will be clear once you touch her.”
She was more beautiful than any woman. Though perhaps she was so stunning because of the magick drawing him toward her. Perhaps the magick made sure that once two fated mates found each other, every other memory of the opposite sex paled in comparison.
“Who are you?” The female’s voice—her name was Hallie—rasped with a sexy intonation that threatened to send his heart pounding straight out of his chest. “Why do I feel like…” She took one step forward before freezing in place again. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No. He can’t—”
He tipped his chin toward her, confused by her words. She speaks to her wolf. Royals ignore and drown out their animal soul. Everyone says this…
“Well she’s either wearing an earpiece or she’s talking to her wolf,” Vance’s wolf snapped back sarcastically and with a tone of smug satisfaction. “Touch her. We need her.”
Vance closed the space between them and extended his hand. “Vance Laughton.”
She reached out and slipped her hand into his. The spark between them on contact nearly made him jump. “H-Hallie Demakis.”
Her hand trembled within his fingers. Her scent permeated the air around him and he could think of nothing more than how wrong it was that she was a royal and destined for a man he served and detested. Dante Montague was a self-righteous-arrogant-royal-prick who slept with anything that would part their legs for him. She deserved better. Hell, any woman deserved better than Montague.
“She is our mate. Do not let her leave.”
“You feel the magick between us. I know you can. I can see it in your eyes.” Vance tightened his grip on her hand. The mate bond had already started to form—just a hint of a bridge had entwined itself between them. Just enough that he was able to feel how much she was attracted to him. As much or more as he was to her.
“I can’t,” she said, attempting to tug her hand away. “This isn’t. My pack expects. I—”
“I would treasure you beyond what you could ever imagine, Hallie. We are meant for each other. Destined by Fate herself.” He stepped closer and buried his nose against her neck, just below her ear. Breathing in her scent was heavenly. He parted his lips and let his tongue flick out to taste just the smallest bit of her skin. So sweet with just a hint of citrus. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Her breath panted out in short gasps. Her heart raced, matching his beat for beat.
Vance nuzzled her cheek, working his lips over the soft skin of her jawline slowly toward her mouth, desperately praying she wouldn’t bolt and run or tell him to leave. She tasted like heaven and his future wrapped into one decadent dessert.
The stiffness in her body released and she put her free palm against his chest as she melted against him. A small moan slipped from between her lips just before he captured her mouth with his. His tongue drove deep, the slow exploration turned primal. Hungry. This was his moment to convince her Fate was worth more than pack position. That magick didn’t make mistakes. Ever.
She came to life beneath his mouth, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, matching his desire stroke for stroke. Hope swelled in his chest. He released her hand and slid his palms down her sides, over the curve of her luscious hips. Parting the robe, he moved his hands around her waist and down to cup her generous round ass. Pulling her tight, he ground her body against his hard length until she whimpered into his mouth.
A moment later perfection shattered. Hallie tensed and pushed away. Worry flashed in her pale blue eyes. She stepped backward, wrapping the robe tightly around her body to conceal everything he’d seen and touched. Everything he’d ever dreamed of having. A fated mate was a gift from the gods. Not something that came along for everyone.
“We are fated.”
She shook her head, tears glistening and falling down her cheeks taking his hopes with them. “I can’t. My responsibilities prevent me from…from letting this interfere. You have to go.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was firm. Her arm
s were clasped tightly around her body, closing it off from any further advances. “This was a mistake. I can’t—”
“This was not a mistake,” he said, his voice taking on the growl of his wolf. He stepped closer, matching her step for step as she backed out of the bedroom. “You having dinner with that royal piss-ant downstairs would be a mistake though. Throwing away the connection we have. That would be a mistake.” He fought to keep his voice angry. Fought to hide the pain knifing his chest. Strangling his wolf. Choking out his will to exist without her. Nothing on earth would enable him to continue working in the Montague house if she became Dante’s mate.
3
He stalked toward her like the predator she knew lived within him. His wolf flashed gold in his eyes and she nearly stopped backing away. She didn’t want to stop him, but she had no choice. Everyone was counting on her. Dante Montague was the last royal on the list of eligible bachelors. Her aunt would expect nothing less.
Why?
“You mean why isn’t life all butterflies and buttercups?” Her wolf snorted inside her mind. “Stop running from Fate. She’s given you a way out of this mess. She’s shown you where to find happiness. Where to find peace and love for both of us.”
I have responsibilities. “I have responsibilities to my pack,” she said aloud, focusing all her willpower against the overwhelming urge to rip off her robe and offer herself—mind, body, and soul to this…stranger. She barely knew him. This wasn’t natural. She shouldn’t want to do this. She didn’t sleep with strangers. Didn’t kiss strangers or rub up against them like she was some kind of animal in heat.
