by Emma Roman
“It’s thrilling. I get to go do the political dance, be dominant but not too dominant, be polite but not too polite. Be firm but not too firm, deliver the message and the demand, but make it sound like a request because we don’t want to offend the other alphas. And understand that, at the end of the day, you are simply a pawn in a game of chess being played by multiple alphas on several levels. It’s a thrill.”
The confession came out in a rush. Until he told her, he hadn’t realized how much he disliked his current assignment.. Across from him, Lesley-Anne leaned forward, her expression curious but her eyes intent. “That’s a lot of responsibility,” she said softly. “You must be a very talented man to be able to do all of that, particularly as our alpha trusts you to represent us to the world.”
“It’s not the world, sweetheart. It’s just the US.”
“Sometimes it feels like the whole world, especially when you’ve never left New Orleans.”
Not once? “Didn’t you roam?” Didn’t all wolves?
“No,” she said with a shrug. She settled back again and took a sip of her wine.
“No, no, no, no, no, you don’t get to leave it there. Come on, spill. Why didn’t you go for a roam?”
“Would you like the polite answer? Or the honest one?”
Now he was intrigued. “Honesty is always better.”
“Because, by the time I was old enough to do my roam, everything in the pack was in flux. Serafina’s father was ill, and we knew the time was coming. There was a time when the Hounds thought I would be a good one of their group, because they thought my nose would make me a good tracker. So, there was a lot of training going on, and a lot of politics being played out.”
A time he remembered well. Like Serafina, Papa Andre engendered deep loyalty within the whole pack. The Hounds as a whole had stood for him, even when he was past his prime and the ability to defend himself. None would allow any to challenge him. They followed him out of love, not just a need for his strength. As he grew weaker, they as a pack grew stronger, but they would not allow anything to touch their alpha. Of course, it didn’t stop some wolves from beginning to debate how things might proceed when Papa Andre passed or from cultivating alliances and support.
“So, you were a pawn too.”
“I wouldn’t look at it that way. In fact, I refuse to look at it that way. I have the necessary skill, one they thought could be quite beneficial to the pack, and as it turns out, in my own way, I am. I’m just not the type of tracker they thought I was.”
“At the risk of insulting you once more, can you tell me what it is?”
Because, yes, he did want to know. He wanted to know everything about her. With every syllable, she drew him tighter into her orbit. Soon, he would be lost in her gravity. While he needed to find a way to hit the eject button, neither he nor his wolf were willing to search for it, not when she was sitting right in front of them.
“I read the nuances in scent. Some trackers, they can walk into a place and tell you every wolf who has ever been there. Other trackers can pick up a scent and follow even the faintest trace of it—along roadsides, if they traveled by car. They have the most acute senses of smell. Mine tends to be a little more specifically focused. I can tell a lot about a wolf from their scent. Sometimes I can even tell where they come from. More, it’s like I can read a mood, and thoughts, and wants. When it comes to matchmaking…” She phrased the last part quite carefully, and he felt the weight of her regard. He simply nodded to encourage her to complete the statement. No way would he mock her.
Not yet, anyway. Teasing could come later. After sex.
Hugo froze while inside his wolf shivered in anticipation.
“A matchmaker looks at markers in a person’s scent. We all have pheromones, and when those pheromones are released, sometimes they attract and sometimes they repel. Some pheromones are much more complementary to another, so the potential can be there waiting in the scent just to be caught by the other wolf. Since we don’t always meet every person in the world, we can’t just sniff for our own mate. Say, for example, your mate might be wandering about, and you wouldn’t know her because you’ve never met her. As a matchmaker, I could sample your scent and compare it to the samples I have of every person I’ve ever met—and, yes, before you ask, I do remember them. It’s like I have a scent memory. Once I’ve sampled it I never forget it.”
“You can’t have met everyone.” He kept his phrasing careful, as it wasn’t a criticism. “For example, you had never met Linc from Willow Bend, so you couldn’t know that he would match with Serafina.”
“Exactly. Had I met him, because I already knew Serafina scent markers, I would’ve recognized him as a potential match. It’s not a fine science, and some of it is just comes down to dumb luck. I also have a degree in psychology, and I’m a student of human as well as of wolf nature. Not everyone is suited to being a mate. You can have mate potential with someone, but they wouldn’t really be a good match.”
For some reason, her statement, which should’ve brought him some relief based on his wolf’s wild reaction to her, actually disappointed him. “Huh.”
“Not always, obviously. Sometimes. It’s my job—or my calling, I should say, because I do actually have a job. I don’t to spend all day being wolfmatch dot com. My task, when someone comes to me seeking their match, is not just to pair up the scents. It’s to get a sense of them as an individual, as well as that of their potential match. It doesn’t always work out, because they may not just be in the same place and ready to, you know, interact yet.”
Latching onto that piece, he narrowed his focus. Steeling himself for her answer, he drained the bourbon then set the glass down. “Do you mean they might not be ready yet?”
“Yes. I’m not naming names, so don’t ask me to, but for example, I had a wolf ask me about their mate, and I had met them. The scent markers all matched. I knew they had great potential. However, the wolf in question who wanted to know hadn’t really settled into their life. Hadn’t fully matured past the moment to living for the future. He was still a little bit wild, and in his own way, angry at the world. He didn’t want to be tied down, and would most likely question any choice I suggested. The reason he asked me was on a dare. It wasn’t because he truly wanted to know. His match was also not ready for it yet. Though she’d been around a long time and had her share of relationships and duties, she was far from being ready to settle down. Particularly with a mate who might not appreciate her or understand who she was or what she did. It’s not always about a lack of maturity, but emotionally they are in two very different places.”
“You don’t think they can’t work past all of it? They can’t find a map to get themselves into the same place?”
“Possibly. But with the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads?” She raised her eyebrows in quiet challenge. She finished her glass of wine and set it down before claiming his abandoned one. “It’s kind of like this wine, Hugo. I enjoy it very much. I think it’s sweet and fruity and a perfect complement to my mood. I love the way it feels on my tongue. Even more, I love how relaxed I feel when I drink it. I even enjoy the scent. You think it tastes like ass.”
“It’s a glass of wine, Lesley-Anne. Not a lifetime commitment.”
She chuckled. “I know it’s not a lifetime commitment, but we’re in two different places where the wine is concerned. It’s not such a far stretch to think that wolves can be in two entirely different places where mating or even the potential of mating is concerned. If someone were to tell you that a woman whom you may or may not have anything in common with, who may or may not rub you the wrong way, who may or may not even be interested in your pursuits, is your mate potential, what would you do?”
“Run.”
She raised her wine glass and smiled. “Exactly.”
That was precisely what she’d done. She ran from him.
He rose abruptly to refill his glass. He needed a great deal more bourbon. Because if what he just read bet
ween the lines was true, she’d scented her mate potential on him. Which meant… holy shit. She could be his mate.
His wolf exulted as the man drained the second glass of bourbon before snagging himself a third. Returning to the sofa, he paused next to her. He studied her thoughtful expression. “Are you still running?”
5
Maybe playing stupid would help. “Running?”
His eyes had seemed so dark outside, but they shimmered like amber in the light of the library. Paused next to her seat, he knelt slowly until his head was almost level with hers. Captive to his gaze, she had to take several, deep breaths to try and keep her heart from pounding its way out of her chest. “I terrify you. Why?”
A shudder worked its way through her, and she contemplated the wine glass. She didn’t think there was enough wine in the whole world for this conversation. “You don’t scare me, so much as I’m uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.”
Lips pursed, he narrowed his eyes then rose abruptly and moved to the table where her wineglasses sat. Nudging them aside, he took a seat and it brought his legs into contact with hers. Instead of pressing it, he bracketed Lesley-Anne’s legs. The most ridiculous panic eddied through her at his position.
“Why do I make you uncomfortable, Lesley-Anne?” The way he said her name demanded attention.
“Why do you care?” The waspish note in her voice irked her, and she raised a hand before he could respond. “I’m sorry, that was harsh.”
“A little,” but he didn’t sound too displeased. “I care because I find you intriguing, beguiling, and I want to know you.”
“You just met me.”
The corner of his mouth kicked a fraction higher. “So, I can’t want to know you? I can’t want to get to know you? Do you mean to tell me the matchmaker doesn’t believe in the power of romance?”
The stillness in his posture and the sober note in his voice robbed it of any teasing. “I do believe in romance, but I know better than anyone else that just because someone may scent like a mate, it doesn’t mean they are the one.”
“It doesn’t mean they’re not, either.” Was that a challenge?
“You don’t want a mate.” Why did she suddenly feel like she scrabbled for purchase on an unstable edge, and at any moment she might fall off?
“I don’t?” Setting his drink aside, he leaned forward and extended his hands, palms upward.
“I don’t know, do you?”
The half smile curving his lips hadn’t vanished. If anything, the dimple in his cheek deepened further. “I’d like to think all wolves want to find a mate…eventually.”
Her gaze dipped to his extended hands then back to his eyes. Did he want her to take his hands? “Eventually.” Latching onto the single word, she snapped her fingers. “Then why are we having this conversation now?”
“Because you fascinate me, and you seem so intent on fleeing. Am I such an awful prospect?” The heartfelt words ripped through her unease.
“I don’t think you’re terrible,” she admitted. Despite her nerves and her desire to have any other kind of conversation, Lesley-Anne placed her hands on his. Her wolf thrummed to the surface at the wild tingle spreading from the point where their palms connected all along the surface of her skin. It was electric.
“What are you so afraid of?” The absolute calm in his voice steadied her.
“I don’t know, maybe I’m afraid, just like so many others, of being disappointed. Or worse, disappointing you.” Moistening her lips, she glanced down to where her hands seemed tiny against his. He really was so much larger than her. Not bigger, just larger-than-life. “You made your feelings pretty explicit where matchmakers are concerned.”
“I was a jackass.” The blunt self-deprecation jerked her gaze upward, and she found amusement dancing in his gaze… amusement and something else. “It’s okay to say it, Lesley-Anne. I was a jackass. Just because you can’t see something, or understand it, doesn’t mean it has less value. I’ve always thought I was more open-minded, or at least more open to new experiences. I also really didn’t understand what a matchmaker did. Sounded like some throwback to a bygone age, when women fanned themselves and had vapors.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you seriously just say when women had vapors?”
“I’m a guy. I’m doing my best here.” He lifted both her hands and pressed a kiss to each. “As I said earlier, I want to start over. Before I knew who you were, or what you did, or made a fool out of myself—you intrigued me. I’m not gonna say it’s only your scent, but my wolf thinks you’re stunning. Frankly, my wolf has exquisite taste.”
Her face warmed under that sincere declaration.
“In fact, my wolf has been after me to fix things between us.” He grimaced. “Okay, my wolf was after a whole lot more than that, and he’s very insistent. But whether my wolf was interested or not is irrelevant. I am interested.”
The admission buoyed her. Though she’d counseled many along the way to be forthright in their feelings and to take a chance to explore, she was finding it difficult to take her own advice. “My wolf thinks you’re pretty dreamy.” Not a stretch, really, when she studied his features. Handsome didn’t do him justice. Yet, it was the way his gaze seemed to track everything she did or said which captivated her. She basked in the fullness of his attention. “She was rolling over for you outside.”
His nostrils flared and then he waggled his eyebrows. The comical effect threaded mirth through her lust and elevated both. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart. Your wolf and mine can be patient. As much as they are as part of us, we are more than just our baser instincts.”
“Fair enough.” She released a shuddering laugh. “But it doesn’t make this much easier. All I can think about right now is stripping out of our clothes and discovering whether we’re as compatible sexually as we are in everything else.”
“As enticing an offer is that is, I would settle for asking you to dance at the moment, please.”
Stunned, she leaned away a fraction and studied him. “Really?”
“Absolutely. And if you’re worried about knowing the steps, just put your feet on mine. I’ll do all the work.” Heat unfurled in her belly at his offer.
“Fortunately for you, my shoes are broken, which means you won’t have to worry about that.”
“I wasn’t worried about it to begin with.” He rose, still grasping her hands, and gave the lightest of tugs. She needed no further encouragement. Whether it was the wine emboldening her or the way his gaze caressed her, she didn’t want to look away. The music from upstairs shifted ever so slightly to something grander. Despite their distance, she didn’t mind the band’s softer, more muted notes.. The party sounds faded to so much background noise.
Still holding her hands, Hugo guided her away from the sitting area toward a clear spot in the library. He pulled her close as he settled a hand on her waist and locked their frames. He moved with such an effortless grace that it was all she could do just to flow along with him. He guided her around the room, from time to time twirled her, and once he dipped her. The elegance of the motions was as captivating as the music upstairs. Delight swelled through her. She was dancing in the library—with Hugo.
“You’re romancing me.” She exhaled, overwhelmed at the magic he’d created for her in this moment.
“Perhaps,” he said, his grin inviting her to reciprocate. “Is it working?”
“I do declare,” she intoned, daring him to play along.
“Do you.” Chuckling, he twirled her again then drew her back into his arms. The snap and catch teasing her, as though he let her get only so far before needing her close again. Heat suffused her every cell, and she clung to him as much to remain on her feet as to drown in the contact.
“I do,” she breathed. Oddly enough, she really did. Could it be he really was interested in her? For more than their scent compatibility? Had she been fair in dismissing it when she’d noticed? Or were they both simply moonstruck by the rom
ance of the night?
“Tell me, gorgeous lady, if we were the two that you had to maybe make a match out of—what would you advise us?”
Somewhat delirious from his scent and the dance, it took her a moment to process the request. She closed her eyes let her head fall back as he twirled her again. Her dress ebbed and flowed with the motions, swirling out then coming back again to caress her legs. A moment of perfection, the kind she’d described to others, yet the feeling of it defied all description. Trapped somewhere between heaven and bliss, she wanted to savor the experience for all time.
“I’d tell us that sometimes goals change, and what might seem insurmountable may need careful consideration. I’d tell us to get to know each other, without the onus of mate potential. I’d say that we are so much more than simply the sum of our wolves. Although compatibility between our beasts is vital in the long term, the compatibility between ourselves is of equal importance.”
“And if I were to ask you for your advice about how to court a lady who was so nervous about the potential of a mate that she was ready to flee a party being held in her honor…what would you tell me to do?”
Opening her eyes, Lesley-Anne met his intent gaze. Her heart squeezed and the heat unfurling in her belly seem to expand even as the tension within her tightened. “I’d remind you to be certain, because no couple escapes the changes a mating will wreak upon them. I would say, if you really want something, don’t give up. The chase should be as pleasurable as the capture. I would tell you that nothing ever comes easy, like an apple falling from a tree. No matter how effortless it feels, effort must be made. There is no greater romance than the act of someone who genuinely cares.”
“I never thought I’d be ready for mating, not enough to give it serious consideration.” He swept her to the left, changing direction so easily, it left her wondering if he’d had formal dance training. She wouldn’t put it past Serafina. Their alpha was a tall woman, and she liked her dance partners to top her. Fortunately, Sera’s permanent partner did so quite nicely.
