To Wed a Werewolf (5 page)

Terror seared her soul, but if she was going down, it was with images of her sexy security guard running through her brain. She concentrated on every sensation he’d made her feel, and imagined his tongue between her legs.

Then for the first time ever, she touched and shaped the magic inside her.

Power blazed from her, and the vine swung her lower, set her gently on the ground, then retreated back into the innocent-looking mass of flowers and leaves.
Way to go, Rapunzel. Who needs Prince Charming when you can use magic to control the plant?
Once she had the sheet wrapped around her like a toga, she reclaimed her shoes, took a guess which way was north, and headed toward that forbidding, overgrown trail.

“Staying locked up in your stupid tower until after the wedding, am I? Think again, Mr. Arrogance, but I’d give anything to flash my way into the human world.”

Everything spun, and she felt like she’d fallen into the eye of a tornado. Finally the world stopped revolving, and she stood in a familiar hotel foyer—wrapped in a blasted bedsheet, for goodness’ sake. Voices wafted from the ballroom, too indistinct for her to recognize the words, but she’d know Mr. Arrogance’s laugh anywhere. When she peered through the doorway, a knot of women fawned over him, but it crushed her that her Lykae lover turned out as fickle as the Lykae prince who’d taken their nations back to the brink of war rather than marry her.

She’d long outgrown her schoolgirl crush, but a broken engagement would have rekindled the border war, so she’d resigned herself to a loveless marriage. Now her idiot fiancé had married someone else—and when word finally filtered back to the Fae, her brother’s army would mount their war dragons and swoop down on the unsuspecting border towns.

Somehow, Giles had convinced the Lykae clans he’d bought his way free of the engagement, but it was news to her. Surely her brother would have said something—even if it was to urge her into another unwanted marriage alliance. Maybe Giles had even bribed her security guard to ban her from the wedding, but they must know the Fae would discover the truth eventually. Then there’d be war. Another look at Mr. Arrogance and his giggling harem and she knew she was second-best again. The way he lapped up all that attention made her stomach churn harder than the transition between worlds. The pain his easy defection inflicted on her heart almost broke her, and if she’d any magic left, she’d have flashed out of there. Instead, she bolted up the marble stairway and into the first unlocked room she found.

“Well, hello.” The newly wed Daphne Drayton grinned as Sylvie shot into her suite. “Is this some obscure custom, because honestly I’m going nowhere without my clothes. Bedsheets are so last year, don’t you think?”

Sylvie recognized the sultry-lipped siren from her movie posters. “Thank God. I’m really sorry to gate-crash your big day, but Giles is engaged to me.”

“So you’re the fairy king’s sister.” Daphne’s fingernails stretched into claws. “You smell of sex, but you don’t look like a money-hungry temptress.”

“Me? A temptress? No way.” Sylvie pulled the sheet tighter and backed away from the furious Lykae. “I was a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl, all puppy fat and frizzy curls, when my brother thrust me into an alliance with a Lykae prince. But your Giles wouldn’t even kiss me to seal the deal. Let’s face it, as temptresses go, I’m way down at the bottom of the list.”

Daphne bared her teeth and let black fur cover her arms. She growled a warning, then returned to her fully human self. “So, you didn’t drive Giles crazy by withholding sex? And he didn’t borrow a fortune to buy his way into your bed?”

Sylvie swallowed hard and prayed Daphne didn’t go fully wolf. Where was Mr. Arrogance when she needed him? And why had she ever though her madcap scheme would work? Hackles up, the she-wolf circled her, seeking a weakness before she attacked.

“No way! Look, I’m sorry about all this, but I only got back from a month-long tour of Italy yesterday—a graduation present from my brother. I flicked through a gossip magazine in the Rome airport and recognized Giles’s photograph. This sounds shocking, but I thought if you postponed the wedding, we could smooth things over with the Fae. Only I couldn’t get past your damn security guard.”

“King Caleb’s already paid a blood price of gold and diamonds to get Giles out of that vow.”

“No way. Leo would have told me, and I’d have told him to get stuffed. I wanted out of that betrothal too, but I don’t want people to die because of it.”

“My new husband’s a beta wolf.” Fully human, Daphne sank on the bed and stared at Sylvie. “It makes him weak sometimes. I’m strong enough for both of us, but I didn’t realize he’d extorted a fortune from King Caleb with his lies. I think our coldhearted king might give you a hard time at first, but we’ll face him together. Friends it is.”

Thank God this fearsome she-wolf had seen sense. What a pity Mr. Arrogance hadn’t done the same. And that took Sylvie straight back to the way he’d petted her body into multiple orgasms. God, her heart beat faster at the thought, but no way would she be part of some giggling harem.

“Hey.” Daphne managed a weak grin. “Stop daydreaming and take a look at this.” She stroked a velvet-covered jewel box, sighed, and flicked it open. “It’s my wedding present from Giles, but he asked me to wear it later along with a smile, perfume, and nothing else. I knew he couldn’t afford it, but now I think it was part of the blood price he was supposed to pay your brother to break the betrothal. Tell me everything whilst I find you something to wear.”

Chapter Five

Intricate carvings of wolves, all fluid movement and intrinsic grace, surrounded the biggest stone Sylvie had ever seen. She hadn’t known diamonds that big existed.
With its glinting facets and rainbow lights it must be worth a king’s ransom.
Certainly worth enough to get Giles out of an unwanted betrothal, but his giving it to Daphne rather than offering it up to the Fae king took their respective nations to the brink of war.

Sylvie tore her eyes off the gemstone Caleb thought he’d sacrificed to buy his brother’s freedom. “If I danced at your wedding, we might limit the damage. Sort of a very public ‘off with the old and on with the new,’ where everyone stays really good friends. It’s not much of a plan, but I’ve had one hell of a day and it’s the best I can manage.”

“Daphne?” A bridesmaid too small to be a Lykae female peeped around the door. Pale-cheeked and large-eyed, she blinked back tears of fright. “I’ve come to help you get changed.”

“Don’t worry, Megan.” With a stage wink at Sylvie, Daphne accepted her explanation completely and threw herself into a new role. She dismissed the terrified bridesmaid with a wave of her hand. “My bestest friend in the world is here now, and she’ll give me any help I need.”

Megan jumped back so quickly she stumbled over her feet, hastily righted herself, and scurried away.

“I think”—Daphne sighed—“that I shouldn’t have told my cousins about my father being a werewolf. Megan’s terrified, and Ron claims I’ve married a monster—only if I have, what does that make me?”

“You told humans? And they believed you?”

“Only the two of them, and only after I transformed,” Daphne admitted, “but it really was a mistake. Now, no way am I giving up on my new husband, but his lies have hurt people.” She looked longingly at the wolf medallion. “Even me. We should show him the beautiful, gracious woman he missed out on, so let me fix your hair and makeup. Then I suppose I’ll have to give my beautiful diamond back to Caleb the Cold, but I don’t quite know how to tell him about Giles.”

Sylvie’s shoulders sagged as if someone had lifted a weight from them, but she mustered a shaky smile. Finally something was going right, but after the way Mr. Arrogance had fucked her into exhaustion, she just wanted to lie down and sleep. Instead, she admitted to Daphne how she’d been kidnapped and seduced by a security guard, and just barely stopped herself from calling him a user like Giles. Then she remembered Mr. Arrogance surrounded by his harem. Damn it, why did Lykae men always make her feel second-class?

“King Caleb will rip your kidnapper’s guts from his belly and tie them around his neck like a lead.” Daphne’s fangs lengthened, and her face stretched longer and thinner with a hint of a snout. “Unless I get to him first.”

Sylvie smiled at the idea of Mr. Arrogance on a lead; then Daphne dropped a full- skirted, scarlet dress over her shoulders and bunched in the waist with a broad black belt. Sylvie couldn’t wait to see Mr. Arrogance’s face when she swept down the stairs at Daphne’s side—and he’d already told her that red was his favorite color.

Daphne linked arms with her new best friend. “This wedding is Giles’s chance to impress my human family. Let’s not spoil that for him, especially since my cousins are already intimidated by the Lykae thing.”

“I don’t want anything but for him to be happy, and our respective nations not to go to war.”

“Right, girlfriend.” Daphne grinned. “Up and at ‘em.”

* * * *

Caleb the Cold was bored. He couldn’t wait for this endless reception to finish; then he’d grab a handful of jewels from the royal treasury and bribe his fascinating Fae princess into forgiving him. Meanwhile he stood by his brother, full of hearty good humor, while thoughts of Sylvie locked in his otherworld hunting lodge set his balls aching with need. The quicker he waved the newlyweds off on their honeymoon, the quicker he could leave.

All eyes fixed on Daphne as she swept back into the room—with Sylvie at her side.

Elves’ blood!
Caleb nearly dropped his wine goblet.
She swore she couldn’t flash between worlds, so how the hell did she get here? And what does she want now? There’s unfinished business between us, but damn it, she lied to me. Her true-mate.

“Your bride looks stunning, Giles, but”—Caleb growled and showed too much fang—“what the fuck is your ex doing here?”

Giles’s welcoming smile withered on his lips. Beneath his carefully cultivated tan, his complexion turned a sickly green. Then Sylvie said something sotto voce that made his bride laugh with delight.

“Giles, darling.” Daphne’s movie-star voice was perfectly pitched to resonate around the room. “Look who finally made it.” All heads turned in their direction, so Daphne improvised quickly. “Since Sylvie introduced us after that method-acting workshop, I’d hate not to have seen her today. Apparently she’d have been here sooner, but she had a run-in with one of your high-handed security guards.”

Daphne’s smile radiated around him like a two-hundred-watt bulb, but Caleb narrowed his eyes, bared his fangs, and stared down his nose. He grabbed Sylvie’s elbow and snarled. “You just can’t help yourself. Can you?”

A STUNNED, SICK feeling numbed Sylvie’s stomach. Shock, she supposed. Shouldn’t her security guard be patrolling the grounds or something? Instead he was attending the wedding like an honored guest. Still, she was Fae royalty, and she wouldn’t let Mr. Arrogance undermine her—even if she was only a half-blood princess.

“Shouldn’t you be out bullying some helpless female?” She kept her voice saccharine sweet. Then she shook him off and kissed Giles’s cheek. “Congratulations. I’m just sorry I missed the ceremony.”

“Really, sire.” Daphne giggled. “Must you manhandle my best friend?”

Sire! Did Daphne just call him sire?
Sylvie had come here to defy a security guard and stop an interspecies war, not to have a showdown with the Lykae king. And why hadn’t he told her who he was? No wonder they called him Caleb the Cold. Caleb the Conniving Cheat, more like.

He growled under his breath. “Money-grubbing bitch, you mean, but I’ve paid her off once, and I’m damned if I’ll do it again.”

Sylvie gasped, and tears threatened. Damn it, she refused to let him see how badly his words hurt her. She turned to Caleb, ready to give as good as she got, but Daphne stepped in, seemingly eager to keep things civil. “Sire. Please don’t say anything you might regret. Giles, darling, why don’t you dance with your former fiancée whilst I chat with your bad-mannered brother.”

Sylvie smirked in Caleb’s face, gave Giles a warmer smile than he deserved, and stepped into his arms. With obvious reluctance, he led her onto the dance floor.

CALEB RAKED SYLVIE with a cold stare. She was up to something. He was certain of it. He just couldn’t figure out what. His true-mate outshone every woman in the room, but it should be him that held her close. He started toward the dance floor to claim her, but she gave him a pinkie wave as she waltzed by in his brother’s arms.

Now she was laughing at some flippant remark his brother made. Caleb’s primal beast roared and demanded Giles’s blood, but the Gods alone knew what game she was playing, turning up at Daphne’s side. And did Giles have to hold her so damned close?

Daphne dipped a small curtsy. “Sire. How do you like my wedding present from Giles?”

“Charming,” he snapped, but he was too busy watching Sylvie relax in his brother’s arms to spare Daphne a glance.

Determined to get his attention, she swung the wolf jewel in front of his face. “I thought so too; then I realized a spendthrift like my adorable new husband could never afford such a huge diamond. The setting’s antique of course, with a whole pack of wolves embossed in the gold.”

“Let me see.” Caleb almost snatched it from her hand. Fuck it, that setting was familiar—and he knew every nuance of the design. It had been part of the blood price to free his brother from a stupid betrothal and avert an interspecies war. Caleb had fretted and seethed when he’d handed part of the Lykae nation’s heritage over to Giles to pay off the Fae king, but better to part with a trinket than go to war.

How the hell had Giles gotten his paws on it again, let alone given it to Daphne? Suspicion darkened Caleb’s thoughts as he stared at the jewel. Much as he loved his brother, he knew Giles too well.
“A spendthrift, conniving wastrel with more fur than brains,”
was what their father had called him—and it wasn’t far from the truth. Daphne would be the making of him, once he offered Caleb a sensible explanation.