To Wed a Werewolf (6 page)

Only deep down, Caleb knew there wasn’t one. Giles never thought things through, and his self-centered impulses always landed him in hot water. He could never have raised enough money to buy the wolf jewel back from the Fae. Which meant…

Elves’ blood, the idiot never handed it over in the first place.

Giles had sent his entourage home before he’d reached the Fae court, but what if he’d never visited them at all? What if he’d kept the Lykae treasures for himself? Damn it, the Fae king probably still believed Sylvie and Giles were engaged. That meant the Lykae had broken the treaty that put a stop to the border wars.

The Fae wouldn’t take that lightly, and people would die for his brother’s stupidity. Caleb needed to convene the Lykae council and work out their best strategy. Damn it, this put a whole different light on Sylvie’s behavior. Maybe she hadn’t come for a payoff. Maybe she’d heard about the wedding and wanted to find a way to keep the peace? Only why hadn’t she told him the truth?

Maybe she’d tried, but he’d subdued her with a sleeper hold, tied her up, and seduced her until neither of them was entirely sane. Their sex had transcended anything he’d ever experienced but left them too weary to talk—until he insulted her and left her locked in his otherworld hunting lodge. His cold, calculating persona crushed him as never before, and both his wolf forms growled their disappointment. His human side had enjoyed the wicked, sensual things he’d done with Sylvie’s body, and while he couldn’t wait to love her again, she must hate him for the way he’d abused her.

Sylvie’s pale cheeks and shaking hands had showed her pain when Daphne had addressed him as “sire.” Then she’d stiffened her spine and challenged him with her gaze. That hurt look she’d tried so hard to disguise would haunt him for years. When she’d come down the stairs at Daphne’s side, she’d seemed so confident. She’d even given him a triumphant glare, but when she discovered he was a king, not a security guard, she’d momentarily lost her swagger. He should have told her the truth from the start. Instead he’d condemned her as a scheming blackmailer when she was the heroine here. And that made him the villain of this piece.

He acknowledged Daphne with a small smile and slipped the jewel into his pocket. “Thank you. It took courage to come clean like that.”

He noted her relieved expression, glad she had enough common sense to keep Giles and his ill-thought-out schemes in check. Before she answered, a brief commotion broke out at the bar.

She dipped another slight curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, sire, I’d best go and see if I can calm my cousin Ron down.”

He barely realized she’d left him as his gaze followed Sylvie around the dance floor. He needed to make amends, fall to his knees and grovel at her feet if that’s what it took to win her, but maybe he could impress her with his lineage. Maybe she’d want him more now she knew he was a king. Elves’ blood, every other woman seemed to—only Sylvie had wanted him for who he was, not what he was.

As if on cue, two buxom Lykae ladies sidled up to him, laughing as they wrapped their sinuous arms around him. Their come-on smiles were an invitation he’d usually accept, but tonight he turned aside with a snarl. His furrowed brow and angry glare kept other women at bay as he leaned against the wall and watched every move his true-mate made.

His primal beast wanted to gut Giles for holding her close, and unbidden, his fingernails extended into claws. Embarrassed by the loss of control, he slammed his hands into his pockets. He should have marked her and let his brand warn other males she was his alone, not ridden roughshod over her feelings and spanked her into heartbroken tears. And still she turned up to help stop the war his stupid brother almost restarted. Caleb needed time to think and plan, to find a way to keep his people safe, but like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn’t let Sylvie out of his sight.

Courageous, confusing fairy. Mine.

Her strength and determination astounded him; he couldn’t ask for a better queen, but she looked too comfortable in Giles’s arms. Caleb’s inner wolf growled its displeasure and urged him to carry her off once more. Elves’ blood, he wanted to, but he needed to win her, not force himself on her again.

And what the hell was Giles doing, wrapping his arms so tight around her waist and laughing as if he hadn’t a care in the world? His brother wasn’t fit to kiss the Fae princess’s feet. Only, after the way Caleb had abused her with violence and sexual frustration, he wanted to crawl away and lick his wounds. Or better still, lick hers—not that she’d let him now.

A lead weight settled in his stomach. He’d not felt this bad since just after his fifteenth birthday when Rosamund had demanded money and jewels after a night in his teenage bed. He’d thought she admired his warrior nature, but after she’d taken his virginity, she’d laughed at his lack of prowess. After that, he’d spurned love and concentrated on family. His father had paid her off and banished her from the court, but the damage was already done. Caleb gave up on finding his true-mate, and only his brother realized his first love had scarred his emotions more than any battles had scarred his body.

Caleb used the court’s willing women like toys, and although he’d soon learned how to please them, he never offered up his heart again—until Sylvie. Then he drove her away with cruel games and heartless seduction. Gods, when had he turned into such an arrogant prick?

Maybe he’d been too soft on Giles, but he’d always felt guilty over the way their father had despised his beta-natured, younger son. Only if Giles betrayed the Lykae nation over the blood price, what other lies had he told? When this endless dance finished, he’d drag his brother outside and beat the blasted truth out of him.

He’d believed Giles when he said Sylvie had driven him crazy with sensual promises and unfulfilled sex, but what if she was the innocent she’d seemed?

He ran his finger around his collar and wondered why he’d fastened the damn thing so tight. His other hand curled around the wolf necklace, but now he wanted to see it around Sylvie’s neck, the diamond shimmering as it hung between her breasts.

* * * *

“Why did you do it, Giles?” Sylvie kept her smile fixed as he swirled her around the dance floor.

He missed a step and stumbled over her feet. “Why did I do what?”

“Anything. Everything. Propose to me, marry someone else, and almost start a war. And smile, we’re close friends celebrating your marriage to the woman I introduced you to, remember?”

“We are?” For a moment he looked puzzled. “Well, if you say so.”

“Good, because we need a good story to fool my brother.”

“And mine.” He gulped when he spotted the wolf necklace in Caleb’s hand.

They waltzed on in silence; then one of Daphne’s human relations cut in and claimed Sylvie for the last few steps of the dance. She smiled sweetly, and when she waved at Daphne, the bride blew her a kiss. They were only pretending to be best friends, and much as Sylvie warmed to her, she’d keep her distance after today. Anything to avoid Caleb the Cold and his red-hot, sensual games. How had her sexy security guard turned into a king? Apparently he was a liar as well as a louse.

Now that she knew his true status, any chance of her happily ever after went flying out the window. She wrapped her pride around herself like a cloak and forced a smile out, but God, she hurt inside. She might be a suitable bride for a beta-natured prince, but an alpha king deserved a perfect queen. Not a half blood like her.

“I hate to see a beautiful woman frowning.” Her new dance partner flirted. “I’m Ron Drayton, Daphne’s cousin, and as the bride’s closest male relative, it falls to me to entertain her best friend.”

Sylvie almost laughed, but the way Caleb had lied to her and then used her for casual sex left an open wound on her heart. After a moment’s thought, she answered, “I’ll settle for some distance between me and Giles’s brother.”

“No problemo.”

His hand closed around hers, but she hated the overly familiar way his thumb stroked over her pulse. She almost pulled away and refused to follow, but she spotted Caleb the Bloody Conniving watching, so she widened her eyes and stared into Ron’s face, apparently engrossed in their conversation as he led her toward the bar. Ron threaded his way through the five-deep crowd, then helped her onto a bar stool. “Now you can tell me how you’re Daphne’s best friend, but I’ve never heard her say a word about you.”

Daphne appeared at their side. “What next, Ron, thumbscrews? Sylvie’s my drama coach, not a werewolf, but your paranoia’s starting to show. And for God’s sake, keep your voice down.”

“I’m surrounded by fucking weird creatures with fur and fangs,” Ron hissed, “and my own damn cousin’s one of them.” Daphne’s shocked gasp and angry glower made him backpedal. “Okay, that came out harsher than I intended, and I’m sorry. Anyway, your pretty friend is too petite to be a Lykae, so I suppose that makes Sylvie as human as me.”

Sylvie stiffened slightly, ready to defend Daphne even though they’d only just met. Since it was too late to stop the wedding, she needed to build bridges between the Lykae and the Fae. Anything to ease her half brother’s wrath when he learned Giles had married someone else while he was still engaged to her. But Ron was slurring his words slightly, and she realized it was the alcohol talking. Rather than answer directly, she dodged the question. “An English language graduate with a PhD in acting from University of East London, and happy to meet another not-were.”

“Fucking dogs, the lot of them, and that goes double for Giles and his uptight brother. Did you know”—he nodded toward Daphne—“when you introduced them?”

“Hey, he’s my former fiancé,” Sylvie snapped, but inwardly she was delighted by the speed with which her and Daphne’s pretense had spread. “He’s still one of my very best friends, and so you don’t go getting the wrong idea, he thinks he’s perfect for Daphne. When I introduced them, I guess they just clicked.”

Ron looked crestfallen and slightly sheepish as if he realized he kept saying the wrong things—but he couldn’t help adding, “Then I wish they’d bloody unclick, but that Caleb bloke’s worse. You’d think he was a king or something the way these folks swarm around him.”

“He’s a no-good, lying louse,” Sylvie agreed a little too vehemently, “and I never want to see him again.”

Ron downed the last of his drink. “Girl after my own heart, but I’m afraid I’ve got to love you and leave you for now. How about we meet up later?”

“Ron,” Daphne yelped, “don’t you dare hit on my friend.”

“And what will you do if I ignore you?” He waved to the waiter for another beer. “Bite me? Wouldn’t that just make me one of your doggy elite?”

Daphne rolled her eyes at him. “I told you, it doesn’t work like that.”

“And don’t that just suck.”

“I’m sorry, Sylvie. My cousin’s a dick. Come and help me check that the porter’s collected all my cases; then once I’ve found Giles, I’m off on my honeymoon. Pity I didn’t get to see more of you, but thanks for coming to celebrate my wedding day. You should stick around for the rest of the party. I think things will get really crazy later on.”

“Wild horses and stupid security guards couldn’t have kept me away.” Sylvie carefully didn’t mention how her Lykae lover had turned out to be a coldhearted king. “But I need to hit the road too. A job interview looms now that my star pupil’s taken a hiatus.”

Soon the otherworld would be awash with tales of a Fae princess at her best friend’s wedding—and hopefully she’d done enough to prevent an interspecies war.

Chapter Six

“Outside.” Caleb grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Now.”

For once Giles’s easy charm deserted him, and he blustered empty excuses. Not that it did him any good. Caleb’s grip was an iron band that dug deep into his brother’s bones. Caleb knew the beta-natured prince would have sold his soul to stay in this comfortable ballroom and dance with his bride. Instead he propelled his brother outside, put one hand on the scruff of his neck, and dragged him into the most secluded part of the grounds.

Caleb slammed his fist into Giles’s jaw. “You want a war? You want to fight and die?” Another jackhammer punch staggered Giles backward, and he fell to the ground. “News flash, asshole, right now I’m willing to kill you where you lay.” He stood over his brother, fangs showing, diamond necklace dangling from his hand. “Let’s start with how Daphne got this.”

“I needed a wedding present. Besides, I never wanted the fairy brat in the first place.”

Fairy brat? Giles always claimed Sylvie had seduced him—for a price. Hell, Caleb had reimbursed his brother for the gold he’d claimed he borrowed to buy his way into her bed. Elves’ blood, he could kill Giles three times over. Once for insulting Sylvie, once for claiming he’d slept with her—
slept with Caleb’s true-mate, for Christ’s sake
—and once for brushing aside peace treaties and putting Lykae lives at risk. Of course the packs were always up for a fight, but as their king, Caleb had a duty to keep the peace. And he had a true-mate to win. How dare Giles say he didn’t want her when Caleb would give his right arm to charm her and start over. “Then why the hell did you agree to marry her?”

“Money, of course. It always comes down to money. Father always kept me short of the readies, and I’d already borrowed too much from my friends. He shoved me into that damned betrothal whether I’d wanted it or not. I meant to marry the podgy bitch eventually, and I thought a few white lies to my brother who had everything wouldn’t hurt.”

Caleb bared his teeth and snapped at Giles’s throat. The Lykae prince blanched, his body shook, and his eyes rolled about in their sockets. Giles’s natural wolf wanted to go to its belly, but his human side knew he should have thought things through.

“You could have come to me,” Caleb snarled.

An odd noise reverberated from Giles’s throat—half submissive whine, half human whimper—but still he tried to bluster his way out of trouble. “I wasn’t Father’s precious warrior son. You were too busy tramping down on your emotions to do anything but look down on me. If it helps, I’m glad I didn’t marry her, or when I met Daphne, she wouldn’t have come near me. Straight as a die, my wife, and means to make sure that from now on I’m the same.”