Allure

by Christin Lovell

  I dove forward and he caught me in his arms. My arms enveloped him like a warm drink on a cool day, tightening with each shiver.

  He clung to me enthusiastically, squishing me to him. I felt his breath as he breathed me in, truly embracing me, both wolf and man.

  I pressed my cheek to his chest, relishing the moment more than I expected. My heart seemed to crack at its edges, chipping away at the ice I didn’t know it was frozen within. The past didn’t matter in that one small moment. He was here now.

  It was a while before he let go of me. When he did, I could say wholeheartedly that I felt better, as if a weight had been lifted from me.

  “Clear the room. I want a moment alone with my daughter,” he ordered.

  Marco gazed pointedly as me, checking to make ensure I was okay with this.

  I gave a slight nod of assurance.

  He turned towards the pack. “I want this entire floor cleared of all guests immediately. Jeremiah, I want every guest checked out of this hotel in two days in time for the full moon. Give them double the refund if they’re supposed to stay longer and get them booked at one of the other resorts for the remainder of their stay. I want the entire staff to be out and booked for a paid week off starting the same day. The rest of you, keep housekeeping away from this room. I want it fixed within four hours. All of you on and off site need to report to the Edmunton Room at 10:00 p.m. sharp. Come the full moon, we’re going to war.”

  My dream! All I could think about was my dream becoming reality.

  My gut twisted as I surveyed the room of men. They’d just rescued me and already they were looking to do it again in a grander way. It didn’t sit well.

  “I’ll call the surrounding packs into this. A threat to any member of the royal family is a threat to the entire race.” My father’s voice was full of conviction, and, surprisingly, anger.

  “Please don’t do this.” I studied both of them. They were identical; their jaws were set, eyes narrowed, lips a straight line.

  “Everything will be fine, mi amor. Don’t worry.” Marco bent down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Come sit down,” my father said, guiding me to the bed. He sat down next to me and pressed my good hand between his.

  The room cleared in seconds, everyone rushing to cut me off. They didn’t want to hear it. Their minds were set apparently.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Emma. I can only imagine how angry you must be at me. I’m not making excuses, but I did only find out about you a week ago. Your mother kept you a secret all these years.”

  A week ago? How could she keep me a secret all these years? Was she that ashamed of me?

  “Your mother said you wouldn’t want to talk about it, but I need to know, did your grandmother do a good job raising you?”

  I choked out a hard laugh and broke away from him. I stood up, expelling a harsh breath. Maybe I had jumped the gun. Perhaps I was wrong to blanket the blame. I was getting a much clearer picture of the whole situation now.

  I took a calming breath before sitting back down. I turned enough to face him. “I don’t know why she told you that. I was left on the doorstep of an orphanage two days after I was born with my birth certificate and not nearly enough blankets. I ended up fighting for my life with pneumonia for nearly two months.” I watched the color drain from his face.

  His expression blanked. “I wish I’d known.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He averted his gaze for a moment before pressing onwards. “Were you adopted?”

  “No. I went on tons of interviews, but no one ever wanted me.”

  He pulled me to him. “I want you. You’re my daughter, and you always will be.”

  I melted at his words. I was overwhelmed. I’d prayed to hear those words for so long. I’d dreamt of a wonderful family sweeping in and claiming me with that phrase, but never did I imagine it would be from my biological one.

  He grabbed my hand and stood up, gently tugging me with him. “Let’s go track down your brothers and mother and get some answers. I don’t take kindly to being lied to.” He sounded calm as can be, but there was something haunting in his subdued response, a promise of rage to come.

  We ran into Christian first who agreed to get his brothers while we located my mother. Thirty minutes passed before we found her getting a massage in the hotel’s spa.

  “Oh, hello, darlings. I’m so happy to see you two getting acquainted.” She made no move to get up or even address me directly. Blanketing had definitely been the wrong move. My father was proving far more earnest than she.

  “Evaline, get your butt up and come with me. Now!” he barked. Every hair on my body stood at attention.

  She huffed, muttering something beneath her breath, but obeyed. She shooed the masseuse away with a fifty-dollar bill and followed us in a fluffy white terry cloth robe and matching slippers.

  I glimpsed at my parents periodically as we made our way a few floors up. It was strange seeing anyone who resembled me in some form.

  My kept her distance, pouting like a child behind us. She fussed with her phone several times along the way.

  “I’m coming too,” Marco announced, meeting us halfway down the hall to their suite. He tactfully slipped in between my father and me, taking my good hand in his.

  Commotion welcomed us when we entered my father’s suite. Christian and two others were gathered at the large dining table. I leaned into Marco, clinging tighter to him.

  “Boys, this is Emma. Emma, this is Roman, Christian and Anthony—your brothers.”

  They each greeted me in their own way; Roman with a slight nod and Anthony with a curt wave of his hand.

  Roman was tall and strong. His dark brown hair hung casually towards his shoulders; his blue eyes nearly glowed with intensity. Anthony had an athletic build to him, more of a runner’s slim strength. His reddish brown hair was cropped close with disarray on the top. While Roman’s aura was more dark and distant, Anthony seemed more lax and welcoming though his expression was harshly set at the moment.

  “Sit, all of you,” my father commanded.

  My heart raced, nerves sending little quivers through me.

  He paced as he waited for us to take a seat before diving right in. “Evaline, who raised our daughter?” he demanded; his voice boomed through the room. The air was so thick with tension I could barely breathe. The men all narrowed their gaze at her expectantly, Marco included.

  “I’ve already told you. My mother insisted on taking her and raising her given our delicate circumstances at the time. That’s why she ended up in Vermont,” she said, fumbling to sound solid.

  “When was the last time you saw Emma?” He cocked his head, his expression lighter, as if he was indulging her.

  “When she was a week old.”

  “Liar!” he roared, slamming his fist down on the table.

  I jumped; my heart skipped a beat before sprinting full speed ahead.

  My mother held a shaking hand to her chest. I could only stare hopelessly in her direction.

  “Why…dear, why would I lie about such a thing?” She glanced at me; her features were sharp, her eyes small daggers aimed at me.

  How could you hate a baby that you carried for nine months? Why would anyone deliberately hurt their child?

  “Who raised Emma?” my father pressed. His hands were thick fists pressed to the table, his knuckles white as snow with the effort.

  My brothers were relentless in their focus. Their gazes didn’t deviate; their muscles didn’t relax.

  Have we all been living a lie based off her words spoken long ago?

  “I do not have to sit here and take this. I’ve already told you my mother raised her. She took her from me when Emma was a week old. She didn’t allow me to have any contact with her. She said it would confuse her.” Looking at her as she blatantly lied to them I noticed even she didn’t believe herself. Her eyes traveled around the room, stopping on nothing.

  I don’t know what
came over me, but I suddenly felt sorry for her. She looked young, no older than thirty-five, which made her a teenager when I was born. She was probably a scared teen who didn’t know how to raise a child. It didn’t excuse what she did, but that couldn’t be changed.

  It was time I took back some control of my life. “How old were you when I was born?”

  She glanced at my father and back to me. “Eighteen.”

  My brows furrowed. I kept my tone soft. “How old were you when I was born? This time tell me the truth.”

  Her features were still sharp; her lips were pursed tightly as her eyes darted between me and my father. “Sixteen,” she snipped.

  “Oh dear heavens,” my father gasped. “You were a goddam minor?” His nostrils flared. He did a full spin, his hands balled, ready to punch something it looked. “You’ve lied repeatedly over the years, but this one…” He took a deep breath, releasing it in a snarl. “I could lose my position, you deceitful wench!”

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  All eyes were on me, shock vivid in their gazes.

  I felt heat color my cheeks. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

  He cleared his throat and adjusted his suit. With a flick of his wrist, he encouraged me to continue.

  I took a moment. My life was changing so quickly. A month ago, none of these people were in my horizon. “You know who raised me, don’t you?”

  “My mother.” She crossed her arms, lifted her chin and stared across the table; it didn’t appear to be at anyone in particular.

  I knew where my stubbornness came from now. She wasn’t budging, which left me with no choice but to challenger her with the truth. “You know what, it’s about time you stop lying. You’ll feel a lot better once you do. You know it was you who left me out in the cold in front of the orphanage when I was three days old. I know it was you too. You left my birth certificate filled out on top of me. While I struggled for months to stay alive with pneumonia, the administrators ran a check on the names. Turns out the same day you dropped me on their doorstep was the same day you were released from the hospital. Your mother doesn’t even know about me, does she?”

  She whipped around to face me, her face pinched tight as she sneered at me.

  “She doesn’t know, does she?” I asked again.

  “I did what was best for you, you ungrateful bitch! I made sure you didn’t end up in any foster homes. I looked out for you, and you repay me by loud-mouthing me in front of the family? How dare you!” She slapped me across my face.

  The contact stung instantly. My flesh prickled. My hand flew to my cheek. I felt the heat radiating off of it. I was certain she’d left a mark.

  Marco and my brothers leapt up; all five men growled in unison. They began to stalk towards her. Their eyes glowed; theirs beasts were fixed on her. They had marked her as prey.

  “Stop it. She deserved it.” My mother stood and began backing away. “Stop. Adolf? Roman? Boys, stop.”

  She hit me. She actually hit me. She was the one who deserved to be hit. She kept me in harm’s way by running off every potential adoptive family. All these years I thought it was me, something I’d said or done in the interviews, perhaps the way I looked that make me not good enough for them, when all along it was her.

  “You disgust me.” Marco’s posture was all alpha. No one in their right mind would approach him in this moment. He rounded me, placing himself between me and her.

  “I can’t believe my father married such trash,” Roman scoffed; his lips were curled in disgust.

  My father whistled. Within ten seconds there was a knock on the door. Anthony opened the door and four males dressed in all black entered the room.

  “What? No! No! Think about this Adolf!” she cried.

  Two of the men gripped her upper arms and carried her away, kicking and screaming. It was like a scene from a movie, or a scene from a fictional book.

  “Where are you taking her?” I asked. It wasn’t that I cared; she proved she didn’t care about me.

  “She will be imprisoned. She lied to the king, deceived the entire royal family. She will be punished for treason at the least,” Roman replied.

  I nibbled my bottom lip, unsure of how to respond.

  Marco pulled me in front of him; leaned in and kissed my neck. “It will be alright, mi amor.”

  I leaned in to his protection, taking all the comfort he offered.

  “Nice to meet you, sis.” Anthony beamed, thrusting a hand in my direction.

  “Nice to meet you.” I smiled, bypassing his hand and hugging him. There was something inviting about him. He tore through my barriers and just made me want to smile when I looked at him. His cheerful disposition was contagious, even under the current conditions.

  “Sorry for what you endured,” Roman said, his hands in his pockets as he stood off to the side.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He nodded his head once and went to speak with my father. They conversed shortly before he left.

  “His wife is waiting on him,” Christian relayed.

  For some reason that prompted me to look at Marco. I felt the tug of my heart towards him. He stood tall and glorious, his eyes full of adoration. The thought hit me before I could suppress it. This was a man I could see myself marrying and spending forever with. I could see us enjoying meals together each day as we flirted while feeding each other. I could see myself sitting around a Christmas tree, nestled in his arms with the entire pack nearby, passing out gifts, bantering and having a jolly time. Marco broke my mold. He was reserved, yet he pushed me out of my comfort zone. He made me a better woman; he made me see that there was more to life, that I deserved so much more.

  “Now, about this rogue alpha. We will attack in two nights’ time. My daughter’s honor and safety will be defended by not only your pack, but ours as well. It will be a slaughter of historical magnitude. It must be done however.” His words killed my merriment, bringing me back to reality in a split second.

  “I agree. I will ready my pack. Have your pack at the hotel one hour prior to sunset. We will map out the route since you are unfamiliar with our territory.”

  “Alright! It’s going to be a blood bath,” Anthony cheered, thrusting his fist into the air.

  Nausea had me taking short, sharp breaths. My pack plus my new family were all going to be out there because of me—fighting and risking their lives for me. Given how headstrong these men were, I doubted I could impact their decision, but I had to try.

  “Please don’t. Please don’t do this. I…I couldn’t handle the guilt if anything happened to anyone.”

  “My daughter, I didn’t fight for you for twenty years. I forced you to fight your own battles and from what Marco described, it was not easy for you. This is the least that I can do—that we can do—to make it up to you.”

  “But there is nothing for you to make up for. You didn’t know. You can’t change what you’re not aware of.”

  “I could have. I have enough intelligence agents. The year your mother disappeared, I could have hunted her down, discovered her activities. I chose not to. I chose to miss your birth.” He closed the distance between us. “The choice has been made, Emma. You will not redirect me.”

  “Or me,” Marco added.

  “But…”

  “No buts. Now go to your room with your mate. I will not discuss this any further,” my father ordered.

  My worry disappeared for one split second. “Are you sending me to my room?” I wanted to laugh; delight bubbled in my chest. In a flash, I know what it would have been like growing up with him around.

  “Well, yes. Yes, I am,” he said, a smile lifting his lips. “And don’t disobey me or else I will dole out a punishment.”

  “Why didn’t I get this soft-hearted beast growing up?” Anthony pouted.

  “Because you’re a boy, and I’ll be damned if I raise a pansy.”

  “Fat lot of good that did you,” he snickered.

  “I don’t want to d
iscuss it, Anthony.” My father glared at him, attempting to silence him in one look.

  “Well, Emma, you may as well know—”

  “Anthony!”

  “I’m gay,” he blurted out.

  My father balled his hands into tight fists at his side. His face pinched and he began to turn red. Anthony clearly wasn’t bothered by it, but it appeared my father was.

  “Um, it really doesn’t matter to me.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Your brother is a Biblical abomination,” my father exclaimed.

  “I don’t want to argue over opinion, but I would rather have a gay brother than a criminal one.”

  My father harrumphed.

  “Thanks, sis.”

  Christian patted Anthony on the back. I gathered they were close.

  “We’ll talk later,” Marco said, edging me towards the door.

  “Um, bye, I guess.” I waved.

  —

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marco was tense and silent the entire way to our room. He didn’t even steal a glance at me. He held my left hand while repeatedly balling and un-balling his other.

  The moment we crossed the threshold, we kicked off our shoes and I was whisked into his arms. He carried me to the bedroom and set me on the bed. He covered me, holding himself up with his upper arms. He cast a tortured gaze upon me. “Do you know how close I was to losing it? I thought I’d lost you.”

  I expelled a soft breath. “I thought I’d lost you too,” I whispered.

  His lips crashed into mine; his need splayed through me. I gripped his bulging biceps, gloried in their flexing tautness. He was trying to give in yet hold back at the same time. He ran his fingers through my hair, cradling my head, holding me to him. Each breath became a gasp as he thoroughly tasted me.

  My body warmed, relaxing into him even as fresh desire bound my womb.

  “Emma, I need you. I need to know you’re mine. Will you be mine?”

  I froze. Ten minutes ago I had a flash of marriage and forever, but when it came time to commit… Desire slipped away as fear coiled within. What’s wrong with me? I knew he would always be there, like he said. I knew he would always rescue me, as he promised. I knew this, yet I couldn’t say that one word.