Hunt Mates

by Mary Hughes

  Continue reading for the first chapter from Prophecy Mates, Heart Mates, and Mind Mates.

  Prophecy Mates

  Pull of the Moon

  © 2015, 2017 Mary Hughes

  The masks are coming off.

  Daniel Light is a powerful wizard prince on the hunt for a dangerous prophecy—only to find it’s in the hands of Zoe Blackwood, the woman he’d adored, and who’d firmly friend-zoned him, when he was a gangly teen. Daniel can get his hands on the prophecy by seducing Zoe at a masked ball, settling accounts with her. Yet he finds he wants to woo her.

  Wolf shifter Zoe throws a classy, grand masked ball as her last chance at romance before her wolf forces her to mate. She remembers Daniel as that rich, awkward boy she could always count on yet never really noticed. When he shocks her by showing up at her ball, he's still rich but not awkward at all, and she notices his deadly grace plenty. But can she still count on him?

  Then an evil fire wizard crashes the party, eager to get his hot hands on Zoe—and her prize, an ancient parchment. She’s horrified to discover both men are really after the parchment for its hidden prophecy—and she’s caught in the crosshairs.

  Over the top, fun and action-packed, short and hot! If you like your heroes staunch, powerful, and faithful, this is the one for you!

  Enjoy the following chapter from Prophecy Mates:

  “Damn it.” Wizard prince Daniel Light zipped his Ferrari along Lincoln Memorial Drive, the lapping waters of Lake Michigan to his right—along with a solid line of parked cars. He spoke into his wireless hands-free, connected to the phone in his tuxedo jacket pocket. “Not a single open space between here and the moon. And me, late for the party.”

  “Isn’t being late for a party a good thing?” Cousin Sophia said in his ear, her voice like honeyed whiskey.

  “Not with that prophecy ticking.”

  An old parchment bearing a nasty prophecy was tonight’s prize for romancing a beautiful woman—a masked-ball Bachelorette contest. Daniel took the event as a challenge, to see how far he’d come from his painful high school days.

  Seemed the real challenge was finding parking.

  “Double damn with a side of blast. I don’t have time for this.” He spun a U-turn and slid his car into a tow-away spot smack in front of a waterfall of stairs, the back entrance to a mansion villa high atop a bluff. “I’m here.”

  “You found legal parking?” Sophia asked.

  “I found parking. Legal is more of a movable concept. If that prophecy is as dangerous as we think it is, I might need a quick getaway.”

  “Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?” A smile was in her tone.

  He laughed. “Oh believe me, I do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

  The clop-clop of horse’s hooves along asphalt caught his attention.

  “Hell’s bells. Hold on.” He glanced into his rearview mirror. A large, dark shadow moved between pools of light. He twisted in his seat to see better.

  Bearing down on him was a mounted police officer, her mouth pressed in a tight line.

  “What’s wrong?” Sophia’s voice was breathy and anxious in his ear. “Is it a mugger? A demon?”

  “A cop.”

  “Oh.” A self-conscious laugh. “That’s almost worse, considering your ‘movable’ legality. I hope it’s not a bad omen.”

  “You wound me. When has my luck been anything but great?”

  “In high school—”

  “Yes, yes, all right. But I’ve come a long way from my dork prince days.”

  These days, no one could play the game of love better than Daniel. He’d honed his body, gathered a fortune, and polished his social graces until most every woman loved him.

  All to shield his fragile heart.

  Daniel sprang out of the Ferrari in his immaculate black tux. “Good evening, officer.”

  “Sir, you can’t park here.” The woman reined in, gaze hard.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m late for an important event.” He stepped into a streetlamp’s golden glow, tilted his head at just the right angle for the light to kiss his blond hair, and gave her his best smile, enhanced with a twinkle of magic.

  Her eyes widened. She blinked a few times, and there was a creak as she adjusted her seat as if her saddle was too hot. “Sir, this is a tow-away zone.”

  “I’m sorry,” He said again, reaching reached a hand toward her horse. “May I?”

  When she nodded, he ran his palm along its sleek neck. The gelding nickered.

  “A fine Morgan,” he said.

  Her expression softened. “You know horses?”

  “I have a way with animals.” He continued to stroke. “Officer, I know I shouldn’t ask this, but I’m late, and it’s extremely important I get to this event.” He raised his eyes to meet hers, not a soulgaze, but he was a wizard prince, and his power gave his eyes a certain charisma. “Just this once?”

  “Well…” She blushed. “Just this once.”

  “Thank you. You won’t regret it.” As he mounted the first of several long flights of stairs up the bluff , he ticked a mental note to discover what charities her department supported. He’d make some sizeable contributions in thanks. Anonymous, of course.

  “Still stunning them with your good looks, Cuz?” Sophia’s amusement sparkled in her voice.

  “If you’ve got it, use it, or lose it.”

  She tsked. “You’re mixing your metaphors again.”

  “Metaphors are like alcohol. They should be mixed early and often. In this case, though, a little magical suggestion helped.”

  “That’s cheating.”

  “Enhancing,’ he countered.

  “Cheating,” she said firmly. “I think I miss the old, serious Daniel. Witchkind—hell, magic itself—is at stake if we don’t find Jean-Dion d’Avignon’s lost prophecy…and you’re playing at a party.”

  “Halloween masked ball, actually.” He crested onto a terrace. Reaching into his tuxedo’s jetted side pocket, he pulled out a Zorro-style black mask then tied it on as he crossed the terrace. “This is work, not play. The prophecy is here.”

  She sucked in a breath. “At a ball?”

  “Tonight’s prize is a parchment.” He bounded lightly up another angle-bracket stairs, one of a pair that scissored to the top. “The parchment bears the Avignon Quatrain.”

  “You know this, how?”

  “How else? Arianna told me. It’s quite convenient to have a family seer.”

  “Convenient.” Sophia sniffed. “You obviously never played poker with her. How do you win this prize parchment?”

  “By tenderly, passionately wooing a woman.” He reached the upper terrace, threading his way through sumptuous sculpture, topiary, and a swarm of women in silky gowns and men in severe suits.

  He continued, “At midnight, the hostess, the Queen of Hearts, is offering a ‘valuable antiquity’ as a prize. She doesn’t know how valuable.”

  Sophia whistled. “But it’s a masked ball. How will you know which woman to woo?”

  He joined the stream of glitterati entering the villa. “Considering the stakes—I’ll make love to them all.”

  “That’ll try your stamina.”

  “But ah, such a trial.”

  She laughed then said goodbye. He ended the call and slipped the earbud into his tuxedo’s breast pocket.

  The ballroom doors were closed. He glided through the waiting throng. Beautiful women surrounded him, smiling and nodding. As he considered which he’d woo first, his body tingled pleasantly in anticipation.

  Memory of rich mahogany hair, gorgeous curves, and a generous smile stopped him. His high school crush, who’d never noticed him—a woman he’d never forgotten.

  Zoe Blackwood.

  He sighed. Maybe he’d wait until the doors opened to start wooing.

  * * *

  “Dammit, Dorine, how can I have forgotten to turn on the champagne fountain?” Zoe Singer Blackwood, motorcycle-dealership owner and secr
et wolf shifter, sailed through the back of the ballroom, dodging wait staff tending the laden buffet tables.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Blackwood.” Her stalwart event planner, clutching her ever-present clipboard, scurried to keep pace. “That was my job.”

  “Your job—my responsibility. Granted, I’m not expecting much, romance-wise, from tonight’s crop of bachelors, but I’d like to give them a chance. Speaking of…” Zoe caught sight of her nearly naked breasts in the wall of gold-encrusted mirrors. “Your taste in decorations is impeccable. Your advice in clothes, not so much.” She tugged up the spangled bodice of her little black strapless number. On the model, it was cut to showcase feminine assets; on Zoe’s lush figure, it was a rubber band with a ruffle. “I want to make romance, not a porno.”

  “Still getting dressed?” The deep voice in her earbud was amused. “Hasn’t your shindig already started?”

  “Bite me, Noah.” She adjusted the earpiece, trying not to tangle it in the elastic holding her thin black domino mask in place. The phone itself was in her purse in one of the prep rooms a hundred or so feet away. For the first time, she wished the earbud’s range wasn’t quite so far.

  “I can’t bite you,” he said reasonably. “We’re related.”

  “Just because you’re going to be my alpha one day doesn’t mean you can be a jackass.”

  Zoe headed for the center table dominated by a three-tiered crystal fountain, currently dark and silent. She crawled under a white-linen tablecloth to flip the fountain’s rocker switch. The burble of liquid started, then splashed as champagne cascaded.

  As she backed out, she found Dorine staring at her backside, embarrassment clear on her maskless face.

  “You might be right about the dress,” the planner said. “Um, cute panties.”

  “Thanks,” Zoe said dryly. She stood, brushed hands and knees, adjusted her mask, then tugged down her hem. Her breasts bobbled dangerously, and she sighed. “How’s the rest of that checklist?”

  “Good.” Dorine’s red face ebbed as she ticked efficiently on her clipboard. “Decorations complete, food laid out, bartenders here, and bars fully stocked. Orchestra assembling. We’re ready.” Her gaze flicked to Zoe’s bosom, and her cheeks practically went bomf. “Except for you, that is.”

  Zoe caught sight of herself in the mirrors. Her nipple waved hi. She tugged the dress up—which bared her stocking tops. She shook her head and gave up. “This party isn’t about me. This is for all the women like me who’ve had enough of pawing guys. Women who want romance—or at least a few candles and cuddles before the mauling.”

  “Candles and cuddles. Yes, Ms. Blackwood. I’ll go check on the greeters.”

  “Wait. I meant to say thanks. For everything. The place looks enchanting.”

  “You’re welcome.” With a small, pleased smile, Dorine left.

  Zoe’s gaze swept the room. Red streamers, sweet-smelling flowers, champagne, and choice tidbits of shrimp, cheese, and petits fours.

  If guys couldn’t get their romance on with all this, they weren’t trying.

  “Why a ball?” Noah asked in her ear.

  Because she’d had one glimpse of romance, in high school. One rich, classy, untouchable boy amid all the under-the-bleacher gropes. He’d shown her what real love was, the kind that didn’t have sex strings attached. That sweet-down-to-her-toes feeling was unforgettable. She was trying to recreate it with a rich, classy ball.

  But she didn’t know how to say all that in a way Noah would understand.

  “Didn’t you call to give me a pack update?” she asked, instead.

  “Avoiding the question? All right.”

  As he bullet-pointed the latest atrocities by their idiot alpha Scauth, she sailed around the ballroom, double-checking everything.

  When Noah finished, he said, “I wish you were here.”

  “Matinsfield needs my income more than it needs my jaws and paws. And with you there, the money I make with the motorcycle store is actually getting to hungry mothers and pups. Before, it only made it as far as Scauth’s liquor cabinet.”

  “Except for the cash you spend on fancy parties.”

  “Just this one,” she defended. “Doing sophisticated and romantic isn’t cheap, you know. I’ve got an orchestra with real strings and everything.”

  “All to find a date? Wasn’t MatchShift.com good enough?”

  “Noah, I’m thirty-nine. You know what that means. When I hit forty, my wolf will force me to take a mate.”

  “You’ve given up finding Mr. Right?”

  “Or even Mr. Good Enough. In one year, I’ll get Mr. Pup Daddy whether I want him or not.” She shuddered at the thought. “Before I do, you bet I’m gonna get me Some Enchanted Evenings.”

  “Zoe, you’re a shifter. You have your pick of men.”

  “Sure, my wolf gets me plenty of sex, but romance? I’ve seen too many beds—and couches and tabletops. My human knows there’s more. Roses and poetry and walks on moonlit beaches.”

  “Lake Michigan? More like pebbles in your paws.” The humor dropped from his tone. “Throwing a ball with nice clothes and live music isn’t going to stop men from being men.”

  “Exactly why I need tonight.” Once she was mated, she and her mate would be pawing each other constantly. Tonight, before it was too late, she’d get a reminder of what romance felt like.

  She desperately needed to find and hang onto that feeling. So that, in the gritty beach of constant animal sex, she’d recognize the few grains of true love.

  “I have a cunning plan to encourage romance.”

  “Saltpeter in the mashed potatoes?” Noah suggested. “Meat-cleaver vasectomy?”

  “Ha. No, I’m offering a prize. My family heirloom, the Singer Parchment.” She turned toward the crown of the evening, resting in its glass case at the foot of the golden, bubbling champagne fountain. “Beautiful, full-color, illuminated capital letters. Authentic parchment and ink from the late House of Valois period in France. My father had it validated.”

  There it was, safe in its locked display.

  With the key…still in the lock.

  She straightened abruptly and shouted, “Dorine. Key!”

  “Ow.” Noah’s voice was pained.

  “Sorry. Damn my paws, where is that planner?”

  Dorine was nowhere to be seen. Zoe flew to the case, plucked out the small key, and dropped it in her décolletage. “Everything would be ruined if the prize was stolen.”

  “The Valuable Heirloom Parchment?” His tone was dry.

  “Laugh all you want, but it’ll work. The prize will go to whoever romances me the best—and here’s the best part. Since we’re all masked, the guys won’t know who I am. The men can’t be men. They’ll have to court all the women here. Cool, or what?”

  “Cool,” Noah admitted. “But why an antique for a prize? Wouldn’t the guys respond better to stadium tickets or free beer?”

  “Seriously? My kind of ‘man’ would respond better to chasing rabbits in the woods. But for sweet, romantic men, antiquities and art are a better lure.”

  “Considering the males you normally date, you know this, how?”

  “I met a nice boy, once,” she tried to explain. “A rich boy. He told me about a lavish, romantic ball his parents threw. White tie, orchestra, parchment party favors, the works— including a genuine antique door prize. Absolutely magical.”

  Trying to recreate that magic, she’d sent out two hundred invites to the city’s most sophisticated, eligible singles. Then, because all this only for her would be selfish, she’d personally invited the women from the local shelter where she volunteered. She wanted to give them the same chance she’d had—a glimpse of something better. To know, at least once, what it was like to be wooed by a truly attentive man.

  “That parchment has been in your family for generations. I’m surprised your mother agreed to it.”

  “It’s mine,” Zoe said quickly. “Dad’s family. Mom was just holding it for me.”


  “Meaning what?”

  She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Mom doesn’t actually know.”

  “She what?”

  Zoe winced. “Noah, please don’t blab to her. I kind of had to. You know that round little woman who runs the weird bookstore in Matinsfield, with all the crystals and stuff?”

  “Only by reputation.”

  “Old lady Blue is a fortuneteller on the side. I bumped into her on my last visit home, and she told me I needed to get rid of the parchment or else.”

  Actually, Blue said if Zoe didn’t get rid of the parchment—on Halloween, no less—an evil witch would come and probably kill whoever possessed it. Shifters couldn’t identify witches on sight, but they did know about them. Evil witches were nasty, nightmare stuff. Zoe couldn’t leave the parchment with her mom.

  “That doesn’t sound good.” All the playfulness left Noah’s deep voice. “Or else what?”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. You know seers. Gotta pump up the doom.” Zoe peered into the display case, expecting to see the usual four words, HEART, MIND, SOUL, and KEY.

  Letters blazed across the top, Give this to the Light, Zoe—then poofed the instant she’d read them, throwing her heart into her throat.

  She gasped.

  “Zoe? What’s going on?” Noah’s growl wasn’t the cousin requesting information, it was the alpha-to-be demanding it. So alpha it made her human wince, and her wolf whine.

  But if she told him, he’d be on the next bus into town, despite pack women up north needing him more. How could she dodge this silver bullet?