Master of the City

by Mina Carter

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright 2014 Mina Carter

  Cover Art by Mina Carter

  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press: Oct 2014.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

  Chapter One

  There were men. There were Wolves. Then there was the Master of the City.

  Overlord and Alpha Wolf of the Lycan packs, Veyr held the power of life and death over all of them. Cyan Trevais, who tried not to quake in her brand-new heels, the ones that pinched like hell, was one of them. Given half a chance, she’d have hightailed it back out of the door, but just at that moment the door in front of her swung open. A manservant announced in a loud voice, “The Trevais Offering.”

  Offering. The word shot steel through her spine and any thoughts of running disappeared. As she stepped through the door, she held her head high. She hated that word and everything it stood for, letting her disdain show in her expression as she met the eye of any wolf that looked her way. The fact that each midwinter, every pack had to send an ‘offering’ to the Master rankled. Even the lowest of the low, barely-even-lycan-anymore packs like Trevais.

  Tradition dictated that the offering was a nubile, young woman…or man if the Master was a Mistress. But Trevais was an ailing pack, its members seeking mates in stronger packs with better bloodlines for their children, so they were all out of young and nubile.

  Cyan tried, and failed, to glide with grace through the crowded ballroom. Not possible in hastily-bought shoes that pinched and a borrowed dress so tight¸ it might as well have been sprayed on. She needed to get away from the door and blend in. Maybe she could hide behind one of the potted plants or something and wait the evening out.

  “Don’t worry, dear. Veyr prefers the more slender woman. I doubt he’ll even glance your way.” Her mother had commented as she fought with Cyan’s curves and the zip of the dress. “Besides, he’s not looked past the McCauley pack for many a midwinter.” The zipper closed, she’d stepped back and cast a disappointed glance over Cyan’s ample figure, nothing like her own, slim physique. “Doesn’t look like that’ll change anytime soon.”

  A high-pitched laugh brought Cyan back to the present. She looked across the ballroom to locate the source. Sure enough, Vanessa McCauley clung to the arm of a man Cyan assumed to be the Master of the City himself. Broad-shouldered and handsome, he looked every inch the picture of lycan royalty, just like the woman at his side.

  Tall and slender, masses of blonde swept her shoulders in gentle waves, Vanessa was everything Cyan wasn’t. Elegant and sophisticated. Her couture gown fit her like a glove. It had to have been made for her, not borrowed. Her makeup was understated but impeccable, rather than slapped on during the drive over here.

  But what made Cyan feel even more like a poor relation was the bright amber ring around Vanessa’s iris that marked her as a pure-blooded wolf. Cyan had boring, chocolate brown eyes. Human eyes. The last time a Trevais had borne amber had been her grandfather. With fewer able to shift in each generation, it wouldn’t be long before their line had reverted to human.

  “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” A deep, male voice asked, making her jump.

  As she turned, she tried to keep the surprise off her face. A man lounged in the shadows against a pillar. It only took a few steps to join him. She was here. Not her fault if Very didn’t notice her, now was it?

  “How do you know I’m nice?” She asked, looking up at him. Shorter than most men in the room, he still towered over her. And he wasn’t stunningly good looking, not like most wolves. His eyes bore no ring, like hers, and she couldn’t work out if he was cute or just plain odd-looking.

  He shrugged and lifted his champagne glass, emptying the contents in three long swallows. A sideways glance answered one of her questions. He was a wolf alright. Already the lycan part of her, small as it was, felt the draw of a male in his prime. What would his wolf look like…as odd-looking as his human form, or striking?

  The glass held in one hand, he looked at her. Speculation and interest sparkled in his eyes. Caramel. One shade off amber, but dull. Human. He wasn’t familiar to her. Normally she recognized members of other packs on sight. Most bore a marked family resemblance but he didn’t fit the mold. Perhaps from a minor-out of town branch…

  “You don’t belong here.”

  For a moment Cyan stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a bad impression of a guppy. She didn’t belong here, she knew that as sure as eggs were eggs, but to have it pointed out in such a blunt manner took her breath away. Then it made her mad.

  “Gee, thanks.” She arched her eyebrow at him in the same way she did to her younger brother when he gave her sass. Not that this guy resembled her brother in any way, shape or form, but she needed some form of defense against his blunt comment. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Didn’t they say attack was the best defense? She propped her hands on her hips and faced him. “Why don’t you call the guards and have them escort me out? I doubt the Master of the City is interested in a dumpy, she-wolf who can’t even shift, now is he?”

  Oh, but the Master of the City was interested. He was very interested indeed.

  Aware of the interest their little exchange had gained from the others in the room, even if she wasn’t, Veyr lifted his head to meet the gaze of the Captain of his guard. A quick shake warned the man off. He didn’t want her to know his identity. Not yet. If she did, had had a feeling she’d run. It was never a good idea to run from a predator, and he was the biggest predator in the room.

  “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad, you know?” He motioned to one of the circulating waiters. In a quick movement, he snagged two champagne glasses and handed one to her.

  She arched a delicate eyebrow again, and gave him a look that clearly indicated she thought he was insane. “You say I don’t belong, then hand me this? You want to wear it or something?”

  “Actually, I said you were gorgeous.”

  He drained half his glass as he watched her. After years of boredom at these midwinter gatherings, where he picked a brainless socialite to fuck in the name of duty, the fates had taken notice. Finally, they’d sent someone interesting. He knocked back the rest of his drink and let his eyes slide over her voluptuous figure.

  More than interesting. She was fucking gorgeous. Tiny, she barely came up to his shoulder, and had a figure packed with curves that made his mouth water. Deep within, his wolf caught her scent and rumbled in approval. The creature wanted to push forward to get a l
ook but he stopped it. She didn’t know who he was, not with his human form shrouding him. Given her less than complimentary tone when she’d spoken about the Master of the City, if she figured who he was, he knew she’d make good on her threat to dump her drink over him.

  “Hmmm, so you did. Why?” she challenged, taking a sip of champagne. Her movements were delicate and graceful. He took a half step forward, unable to resist the urge to get closer. The need to breathe her scent into his lungs and hold it there won out. He knew without asking that he’d never seen her before.

  A face and body like that, with ample curves for a man’s hands…yeah, he’d have remembered that. Remembered, and already tried to get into his bed. Tried being the operative word. Being Master of the City wouldn’t win him any prizes with this one. Even though she was an offering from her pack, and tonight was the one night the woman he selected couldn’t refuse, he doubted that his title or status would get her to part those luscious thighs for him on a normal day. But hell, did he want them too. He wanted, no intended, to be balls deep in her before the moon rose.

  “Why did I call you gorgeous? Because you are.”

  His champagne glass empty now, he caught her gaze and let his wolf seep into his eyes. Just enough to dazzle her while he handed his glass off to a waiter. She wasn’t human. She couldn’t be, not if she was here as an offering because none of the packs would offer him such an insult. He breathed her scent in again to analyze it.

  Her wolf was weak. So barely there that he doubted that she’d ever been able to shift. Not his problem, even though curiosity rolled through him that her pack had allowed their bloodline to degrade so much.

  “Yeah, right. Is this a joke?” She narrowed her eyes, fire flashing in the depths that intrigued him. Glass still clasped in delicate fingers, she made a show of looking around her. “Is there a camera crew ready to leap out, filming my reaction or something?”

  He couldn’t help the short, sharp bark of amusement, nor resist the urge to move in closer. A hand slid around her waist as he relieved her of the glass with the other. Her gasp of surprise did nothing to conceal the shiver of awareness that rolled through her body at his touch.

  “Not at all, sweet thing.” He leaned down to brush the tip of his nose against hers. “Although, if cameras are your thing, I’m sure I can find a few for you.”

  “Cameras!? What do you think I am?”

  Hands full, he didn’t expect her outraged reaction, nor for her to pull her arm back and slap him right across the cheek. Hard.

  Chapter Two

  Cyan wasn’t an idiot. The shocked silence that rolled through the room, and the murderous expression of the man who appeared at her side, clued her in.

  Shit. She’d just slapped the Master of the City.

  She lifted horrified eyes to Veyr’s face. He smiled and dropped the human façade. As she watched, his features altered, sharpened until she realized the face she had been looking at was nothing more than an unformed version of his true appearance.

  He. Was. Stunning.

  His new features were almost cruel, but handsome, saved from being harsh by the interest and heat in his eyes as he looked at her. The dull human color had burnt away under bright amber of a full alpha. His scent, laden with the wildness of a wolf in his prime, filled her nostrils.

  She shook her head, trying to get her brain cells into order. She was not a ninny-headed female that went gaga at the first scent of a lusty male. In fact, in that way the weakness of her wolf side had stood her in good stead. She didn’t get moon-fever over any guy. Until now.

  “You… I am—“

  He put a finger over her lips, and gave a tiny shake of his head. “No, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You didn’t know who I was.”

  Cyan’s temper flared. She batted his hand away from her mouth.

  “You’re damn right it’s not my fault.” The gasps around them should have been a warning sign, but she was too far gone now. She advanced on the most powerful wolf in the room, hell, in the city, and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “What kind of asshole lurks at his own party wearing a disguise?”

  Anger flared in his eyes and a second later, he captured her hand.

  “Little wolf,” his voice rasped over her like silk over steel. “You push too far. I’ve punished men for less.”

  At the word ‘punish’, especially the way he said it, all thick molasses and rough-cut whiskey, made her pussy clench hard. A reminder that she hadn’t had sex in…like forever. A couple of years at least. Her wolf whimpered inside, rolling over in supplication. It wanted to play with this powerful wolf. Regardless of what she, the woman and thinking party in this whole shitty symbiotic situation, wanted.

  “For telling you the truth?” she pushed further, not missing the way he pulled her closer. She couldn’t recover her hand, but with the heat of his body washing over her, she didn’t want to. Liquid heat escaped her, dampening her panties, and she watched as his nostrils flared. She was this far up the creek without a paddle, why stop now? “Or for calling you an asshole?”

  He clamped a hand around the back of her neck, forcing her to tilt her head upward. As strong as he was, he could have hurt her, but his grip was firm, not cruel.

  “No man need fear telling me the truth,” he murmured, studying her face as though she puzzled him. Him? Hell, she puzzled herself. From wanting to escape this thing with the minimum of fuss and embarrassment, she’d instead caught the attention of the man she was desperate to avoid. And insulted him to boot.

  Way to go, Cyan.

  “I will have to do something about the name-calling though.”

  She tried to speak but her words dried up in her throat, as though afraid to be pushed beyond her lips and into his scrutiny. She licked her lips, an action that had his attention zeroing in on her mouth. “Y-you are?”

  Shit. Veyr had a nasty reputation as a hardline Alpha. Punishments were infrequent, but severe enough that not even the pack elder’s would gainsay him. No one would come to her rescue here, not against him. She was on her own.

  “Yeah… and I can think of many things you can do to make up for the insult.”

  His mouth crashed over on hers, dominating and hard. He didn’t pussy-foot around, taking his time to get to know the shape of her lips, or gentle her into accepting his embrace. Instead he swept his tongue against the closed seam of her mouth in a demand for access.

  Her body reacted on automatic, relaxing under his touch as she parted her lips to allow him access. He growled in approval, dragging her closer until she pressed against the hard length of his body.

  She gasped at the feel of his cock, long and thick, against her stomach. The tiny sound was lost under his lips as he pressed his tongue into her mouth, controlling the kiss. But she didn’t care. Heat hit her, enveloped her. She was no innocent, she’d been kissed before, but never this way. Not with such intent, focused demand. As though she were the only woman on the planet and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  Veyr kissed like a starving man, and she were a banquet laid out in front of him. He twined his tongue around hers, seeking and gaining a response as she tentatively stroked against him. Heat uncoiled in her veins, her feminine lycan instincts urging her to give in, to let this happen. She whimpered, moving closer to tangle her fingers in the collar of his jacket.

  His suit.

  He pulled away to nibble along her jaw. The designer clothes should have given him away. No doubt Vanessa could pick it out by name and collection, but all Cyan knew was that it was expensive.

  “So…what’s your name, little wolf?” His words whispered along the soft skin of her neck and she realized that she’d lifted her chin, baring her throat to him in a classic move of submission. On a normal day that would piss her off, but her earlier anger had drained away, leaving just heat in its wake.

  Belatedly, she realized that the room had cleared. Where before the ballroom had been packed with eager young women, all intent o
n catching the eye of the Master of the City, now they were alone. Which meant one thing. The Master had made his choice.

  Her. Shit, she was screwed. Literally.

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. She shivered. It wasn’t with the cold. How could she be chilled when he looked at her like that… with a gaze so hot that it sparked the flames inside her and the heat of a thousand fires rolled through her veins, settling in her pussy. A molten ache she couldn’t assuage.

  “Cyan Trevais.” She lifted her chin, making her name a challenge. He knew the status of her pack. Knew she was from the least of them all. Why choose her above the others? Above people like Vanessa McCauley, with her pure bloodlines.

  He smiled, reaching out to brush his thumb over her lips. “Why have I never seen you here before?”

  She shrugged. “Just not my sort of thing.”

  If he couldn’t work out the difference between her and the other offerings, then he was blind or stupid. But, as her brother, the Trevais Alpha, had said, it was her or for the pack to be in default. Not a place any pack wanted to be.

  “Really?” His eyebrow winged up. He leaned forward and whispered another kiss over her lips. “Now that’s a pity, because you’re very much my sort of thing.”

  A thrill shot through her at his words, at the warm scent washing over her. Her wolf wasn’t too weak that she couldn’t pick up the arousal rolling off him in waves.

  He didn’t lift up, instead nipping the lobe of her ear as he walked her backward. The sharpness of his teeth, even blunt in his human form, sent a shudder of need through her. “And I think I’m yours. I can smell the need on you, little wolf. The lust.”

  His arms around her, she didn’t worry about where they were going. He wouldn’t let her fall. His lips wandered down her neck and she tilted her head back, giving in with a shudder. He was right, she needed this. Wanted it.

  “That’s it, little wolf,” he tangled his fingers in the thin strap over her shoulder and dragged it off. His warm lips wandered over the revealed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She bit her lip to stop from murmuring in pleasure.