The curvy professor said something to the rest of the family before leaving her bag behind with the two kingdom house servants who had come out to greet them. She headed down the driveway toward the main road that led into the rest of Dale’s kingdom town. Her sisters and cousin waved goodbye, but her parents watched her go with some serious disapproval in their eyes. Yeah, this one was definitely the academic black sheep Janelle had told him about.
That meant the shortest she-wolf in the group, the one with the large Afro and dressed like she’d commissioned her wardrobe from a Skittles factory, must be Janelle’s youngest sister, Tu.
Finally he allowed his eyes to go to Janelle. He’d actually thought checking out her mother and sisters first would make it safer to look at the woman whose betrayal had been burning bitter in his mind all these years.
It didn’t. Her beauty hit him like an electric tour bus. All quiet before the big crush of bones and vital organs. She looked the same as she had at twenty-two except with slightly more sophisticated clothes, and hair that now hung in a straight, silky black sheet with fringe bangs as opposed to the waves she’d worn them in three years ago. Also, she was even more graceful, from the expression on her face to the way she slightly inclined her head to listen to what her sister, Tu, was saying without hunching her shoulders like he always did when dealing with shorter people. It was like watching a music box ballerina come to life and interact with the real world.
If Janelle sensed she was being watched, and watched hard at that, she didn’t show it. But then he got the feeling she was used to being watched. It explained all the morning talk show hostess he’d gotten off of her when they first met, like she was always playing a part in somebody’s highlight reel.
“Still beautiful, isn’t she?” Rafe said, joining him at the window. “Hopefully your pledge meeting with Tikaani goes well. I don’t think you could find a better she-wolf to mate.”
“We’ll see,” Mag said. “Thanks for putting the bug in Dale’s ear, though. I think I’m on better ground with her dad if he don’t know I was the one who asked for the meeting. Heard from your dad he’s a tough negotiator.”
“You heard right. Also, as sheltered as they’ve kept Janelle, I doubt knowing you already met her at a human night club would help your cause.”
“No, probably wouldn’t,” Mag agreed, his eyes staying on Janelle until she and her family disappeared inside the house. “Thanks for throwing this party so I could ‘meet’ her for the first time.”
“No problem.” Rafe’s eyes followed Alisha as she walked down the main road. “Just wish he hadn’t insisted on bringing his whole family. I understand him wanting his wife to come along, but bottles always mysteriously start disappearing from my whisky collection whenever Tu comes to visit. And Alisha distracts Chloe from her hosting duties. That’s probably where she’s headed right now—to Chloe’s house.”
Mag slid a look at Rafe. He understood his buddy’s irritation about his whiskey disappearing. But… “You don’t want Alisha here because she distracts Chloe from her hosting duties?”
“Yes,” Rafe said, his jaw setting. “Hosting duties are an important part of how our society works, and if she does a poor job, it reflects badly on me. You’ll understand what I mean if this pledge meeting goes well with Tikaani—though you’ll never have to worry about any of that with Janelle. She’s a true princess, as dedicated as they come to serving her crown.”
Mag still thought that was some petty reasoning against not inviting Alisha on Rafe’s part, but whatever. Rafe had warned Mag when he had come to him with his plan to challenge the new Wyoming king that the world of wolf royalty was nothing like the RV caravan Mag had grown up in. Maybe the royal version of Rafe was different from the one Mag had always known. Maybe when he was princing around his kingdom town, he really did get his panties in a bunch if his fiancée didn’t treat her party hosting duties like a life or death mission. Because judging by the way Rafe was staring at Alisha’s retreating back, his eyes hot with resentment, you really would think the only thing the guy cared about was the way Chloe reflected on him.
Still, Rafe was his best friend. Had been his staunchest ally when it came to getting his wild card and a state crown, and unlike certain Alaska princesses, Rafe had never made him feel like he didn’t deserve everything he went after. Three years in the cut-throat world of professional football had taught Mag you couldn’t pay for friends like that. Literally. There were guys on his team who actually paid dudes to hang out with them. They called it having an entourage, but Mag knew what was up. And, more than once, he’d seen entire ride-or-die entourages disappear, poof!, into thin air after a career-ending injury.
Not Rafe, though. He’d had Mag’s back from day one. Mag wasn’t about to start judging the guy now.
A knock on the door cut their conversation short. Dale Nightwolf, the King of Colorado, stuck his head in. Dude was only a year away from divestment, but he looked more like a prince than a king about ready to hand over his crown, a slightly shorter, even leaner and lighter version of his son with his sharp cheekbones, long nose—homage to his almost pure Cheyenne heritage.
However, his voice was all king when he said, “Come on out of there, Son,” to Rafe. “Tikaani’s here to talk to your friend.”
MAG HAD NOT PAID Tikaani Ataneq much attention when he’d been watching the Alaska royal family arrive at the Colorado kingdom house. But now he was seated across from him and only a few degrees from being face-to-face—with Dale serving as their triangle’s high point behind his gigantic burl ash executive desk. Mag studied the man he’d never formally acknowledged as his sovereign king while growing up.
Unlike Dale, Tikaani did look his age, with salt-and-pepper hair on top of his head and around his mouth in the form of a well-groomed goatee. His eyebrows verged on bushy, and Mag recognized Janelle’s trademark warm expression in the permanent crinkle of her father’s eyes. He looked like he would burst out into laughter at any moment: Santa Claus’s Eskimo son. And Mag began to understand why Dale had pre-warned him about Tikaani being a tough negotiator. If not for that warning, it would have been easy to underestimate the man as a gentle soul who had nothing but everyone’s best interest in mind.
An image of Janelle gifting him with that Ducati helmet floated across his memory. Obviously the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
King Tikaani also seemed to be studying Mag, and nothing in his expression said he didn’t fully approve of what he saw. In fact his first words were, “I can see from those tattoos on your face that our heritage is strong within you. You’re going to get what you want at all your business meetings from now on, I’ll tell you that.”
Our heritage. Like this Eskimo Bill Cosby would ever tattoo four horizontal lines across his face, two for each of the wolves he had killed. According to Rafe, the Alaska king had never even had to fight a challenger himself, thanks to the Detroit beta he’d been gifted with when he married the then-Detroit king’s only daughter. Mag could tell the plump Alaska king had never had to kill anything himself for more than sport. If his hunt didn’t go well, his pack would still eat, and it hadn’t been necessary for his rich-ass kingdom town to apply for permission from the human government to kill a whale for the sustenance of their village as other packs had. The truth was, Tikaani, the latest in a century long line of kings, had no reason whatsoever to have an elderly woman with an ivory needle apply ink to his face.
But this was a pledge meeting, a negotiation, not a quibble. Mag decided to break out his now rarely used joking skills. “Maybe your daughter can get a few chin tattoos now that she’s available for marriage again,” he said, referring to the old practice of girls getting a gridiron pattern of chin marks once they went through puberty and were therefore ready to be offered up into pledge.
Tikaani laughed big and from the belly. “Well, Janelle isn’t vain, but she is one of the most beautiful she-wolves on the planet. Literally. I’m not sure if Rafe told you this,
but she was crowned Miss Teen Wolf when she was eighteen and she still goes all over the states judging different pageants. Not sure chin tattoos would go with her beauty queen look.”
Tikaani winked at him. “Besides, I think having a more traditional bride would benefit you well, son. Janelle’s already very respected not only by our state pack, but also by wolf society in general. Plus, she knows how the game is played. If you have a deal you need to negotiate, you could play bad cop with the husband, while she takes the wife out for mani-pedis and charms the hell out of her. That’s why you want a wife like Janelle.”
Mag steepled his hands and leaned back in his brown leather reception chair, letting his elbows rest on its sloping arms. “I’m just wondering why you would be willing to pledge your daughter to someone from Freedom Town—or what is it the state pack calls us? Bad Wolf. From what I’m recalling, you official state wolves consider us a bunch of thugs.”
Tikaani eyes flashed with genuine respect—at least it read that way. After having dealt with his daughter, Mag suspected every spontaneous look that crossed over the Alaska king’s face was actually well-calculated.
Tikaani now winked at Dale. “I like this one. He doesn’t mince words. I can see why he and Rafe get along.” Then his warm calculation of a gaze swung back to Mag. “Did Rafe tell you Dale and I played football at Denver U., too? Except back then, Dale was the scholarship student, straight off the reservation, and I was the one with the inherited crown.”
“That’s right,” the Colorado king said with a nostalgic chuckle. Dale picked up the story so easily, Mag had to wonder if the two men hadn’t rehearsed it. “After I won my challenge for the state crown, Tikaani threw me a party just like the one Rafe’s throwing for you. Set up a pledge meeting for me with the King of New Mexico, who had a lovely daughter named Erylace. Told me, ‘if you’re going to make it in this society, Dale, you’re going to need a society wife.’ You know how that story ended.”
Mag’s mind went to Rafe’s sweet-natured Latina mother. She’d never been anything but unfailingly kind to both Mag and Chloe, even though she was a royal born and, according to Rafe, didn’t really approve of his choice in mates. Hearing the Colorado king and queen’s marital history made him wonder though…
“Surprised you didn’t try to hook Rafe and Janelle up,” Mag said. “Seems like they’d be a perfect fit.”
The smile didn’t fall off King Tikaani’s face, but it did stutter a bit. “Well, Rafe proposed to Chloe before we could really say anything about it either way.”
So they would have pledged the two to each other if Rafe had been willing to play ball. Interesting. “I see, so this pledge meeting represents a full circle for you and the King of Colorado that Rafe didn’t let you have.”
Another good old boy look between the older kings. “Yep, that’s right,” Dale said. “I’m vouching for you, and Tikaani’s vouching for his daughter. And I’m hoping you’ll know better than to look a gift wolf as beautiful and well-regarded as Janelle in the mouth.”
Mag un-steepled his hands. “Let’s talk terms. I’ve read over the pledge agreement you had with Wyoming. I’m assuming you’d want me to serve as your stand-in in exchange for a ten percent stake in your oil interest. Also, my first born son will be responsible for overseeing the state crown in the event that you don’t have any other male grandchildren in position to inherit the Alaska crown. Would those be your terms for me, too?”
“Yes, those terms and one more.” Tikaani leaned forward. “I want Bad Wolf—I mean Freedom Town—to come back into the fold. No more pack king. I want you all under the state crown.”
First things first, Mag worked to keep his expression blank. No need to let the Alaska king know he’d taken him completely by surprise with his request. Then only when he was sure his face and voice were set to neutral did he say, “That’s a big ask. My brother’s pack king, and as you’ve probably guessed, we value our freedom.”
“I don’t want to take any of your traditions away. And I doubt I could put a stop to the drug dealing, especially in Alaska. But from what I understand, your unmated males have been going around sleeping with unheated girls. Also killing each other in mate challenge fights, which the Lupine Council doesn’t allow. That all stops with this pledge. No more getting away with murder for your mated males. Plus, I know a lot of parents would be upset if they found out what some of your Freedom Town boys were up to with our innocent girls—they deserve better than that.”
Somewhere in a parallel universe, Mag was telling the king the story of how his very own innocent girl had come on to him—asked him to take her virginity—and then had come back for more. But in this one, Mag played it cool. “I might be able to work with those terms. Let’s see how tonight’s pledge dance with your daughter goes, then I’ll make my decision.”
12
“THIS is bullshit!”
“Alisha, please don’t start…” Janelle said with a heavy sigh as she pulled herself into the red mermaid dress her mother had picked out for her to wear to her pledge dance with Mag. “Not tonight.” Her stomach was already a mess of nerves and she did not want to add having to listen to one of her sister’s anti-wolf tradition rants into the mix.
“Well, it is,” Alisha said, tugging up her own dress, a mermaid gown just like Janelle’s except hers was blue and the neckline on her dress didn’t swoop down quite so dramatically low. “They had a meeting about the possibility of you marrying the guy who killed your last fiancé without you. And now they’re going to present you to him like a gift for murdering his way into a state crown. Total bullshit!”
Janelle rubbed her temples. “It’s tradition. You’re a historian. I’m sure you can cite plenty of examples of she-wolves pledging the wolf who killed their original pledge in challenge fights.”
“You’re right, there are lots of examples of this in our history and that’s why I’m calling bullshit on it—because it needs to stop. Just because there’s historical precedent doesn’t make this situation anything less than patently ridiculous.” She tugged the bodice of her strapless dress higher. “Almost as ridiculous as Mama still insisting we wear matching gowns at all formal events despite the fact that we have wildly different body types.”
“I like this dress,” Tu said, twirling around in the mirror. She was the darkest of the sisters, and the butter yellow version of the mermaid dress looked fantastic against her deep brown skin, especially paired with a turquoise statement necklace and the large puff she wore her afro in for formal events.
“That’s because you don’t look like Ursula from the Disney version of The Little Mermaid,” Alisha groused. “We have got to stop allowing Mama to pick out our dresses.”
“You don’t look like Ursula. You look lovely. Really lovely,” Janelle assured her sister, and she meant it. Alisha might have a variation of Ursula’s hairstyle, with her unruly black curls falling into a short and flocked coif that perhaps did put one in mind of the animated sea witch. But Janelle wished Alisha could see what she saw when she looked in the mirror: a big, beautiful woman whose bra cup-size was only outdone by the size of her brain.
However, Janelle did agree it was time to put a stop to their mother’s self-appointed royal stylist activities. Janelle was just as uncomfortable with the on-the-bleeding-edge-of-tasteful dresses her mother picked out for these events as Alisha was.
“Seriously, you don’t find it the least bit insulting that our parents are treating you like a pawn?” Alisha asked her, going right back to the pledge issue.
Janelle looked at herself in the mirror and decided not to wear her hair up like Tu for fear of the headache she could now feel coming on. “That’s the way these things are done, Alisha. The way they’ve always been done. The way it will be done for you, eventually.”
“If you think I’m going to let the king and queen sell me off to the highest bidder, you don’t know me,” Alisha said in that irritating way of hers, like she was dealing with two malevolent stra
ngers from her history books as opposed to her own parents, who had been nothing but loving and kind—when they weren’t trying to match them off.
“Whatevs. If Mom and Dad want to hook me up with a hottie pro-baller…” Tu pointed at her pelvis and rocked it forward. “Sign me up. That Mag is foine—and those face tats? Woo! Bad boy for the win!” She then sing-songed, “Isn’t that right, Janelle? I think you’re a big fan of bad boys yourself--maybe you always have been.”
Janelle ignored the innuendo in Tu’s voice. Ever since finding out that Janelle’s potential pledge was from Bad Wolf, Tu had been more than hinting that the new Wyoming King and the “Bad Wolf” she’d smelled on her oldest sister three years earlier were one and the same. Janelle hadn’t confirmed or denied Tu’s insinuations, just hoped that if she ignored them hard enough, her sister would eventually stop.
Luckily Alisha came to her rescue with a pedantic correction for their younger sister. “If you’re basing your assessment of Maguyuk’s character on his facial tattoos, I think you mean ‘deeply traditional boy’ for the win. Keep in mind, the founding king of our own wolf line got facial tattoos to mark his challenge win, so when you think about it, the new Wyoming king’s face markings are less of a rebellion and more of a return to a formerly revered tradition.”
Tu squinted at her. “Okay, real talk… why are you such a nerd? Everybody else in our family is cool… Dad, Mom—I mean, just about every she-wolf I know wants to either be Janelle or look as good as she does doing what they do. But you? One hundred percent nerd. Can you just act for one night like you don’t have a total smart stick stuck up your butt?”
Wolf and Punishment (The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 1) Page 9
