Page 18

SERAPHINA

T he lilacs were all wilted. I swear they were alright when I gathered them yesterday.

I run down the cobbled path, the woven basket heavy enough to tear my arms from their sockets. I'm fucked if Nora finds me out here. It's been two years since I joined the Red Wolf Pack as additional staff, but on most days, it still feels like a probationary employment.

Maids shouldn't wander near the carpeted paths taken by the guests—especially not one who looked half as bedraggled as I do right now—but Luna Kaida suddenly decided she wanted the lilacs she'd thrashed yesterday, instead of the roses. And lilacs only grow on this side of the manor.

I scowl, plucking the last flower and my stomach roils in disgust as I throw it into the basket. I never really did like flowers, but the last few days have made me wish never to set eyes on them again.

At least, I'll get some reprieve tonight, once the Soirée begins.

Maids are scarcely needed at events held solely for the sake of unmated wolves mingling—by unmated wolves, I mean the Alpha's son, Ronan.

This is his father's guise of finding him a wife—and even if they are, I wouldn't be at the top of that list.

Something sweet suddenly invades my senses, making my mouth water.

My stomach grumbles in hunger, reminding me of the several skipped meals in the past week.

I start for the entrance of the manor but my body seems to have a mind of its own, deciding that not only am I hungry, but I am in such a painful state of thirst that I can barely think of anything else but the need to satiate it.

I am moving, towards the source of that scent before I can stop myself, heading deeper towards the orchard. What is it? Overripe peaches? Wild honey? Is that...spice? Myrrh?

The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I feel a pressure on my back—the distinct feeling of being watched.

Turning and wincing at the ache running up my arms, I barely notice the higher ground until the worn toe of my boots snags against the concrete and in an attempt to catch myself, I twist on my ankle.

I barely have enough presence to catch the basket before its contents spill across the cobblestones, and my teeth sink wickedly into my bottom lip to prevent a pained whimper from escaping.

Pain has my ankle in a vise and my eyes water as I pull down my sock to examine the flesh.

" You broke it, didn't you?"

I yelp, turning on my bad leg and this time, a sharp hiss does escape me. I glance up and freeze.

I've seen him several times from afar. Hair that shone like spurned gold, skin like polished bronze, a wickedly handsome face and a smile that spoke volumes of his confidence. I've never quite swooned over Ronan Callahan like the others because I have learned that beautiful things are deadly.

But looking at him up close, I admit that he is quite endearing to look upon. One might forget their eyes on him without effort.

Lean yet muscular, the Alpha's son is dressed in a black tuxedo, whose cuffs match the color of his hair. The waist is tapered and his shoulders broad in a way that tells me his most attractive feature yet might be his back.

His ringed fingers are held tightly around a cellphone, as though he'd been out here making a call.

I duck my head almost immediately, pondering on the scent that the wind keeps throwing my way, wondering at the way I can barely breathe in my own body.

" No, it's only a scratch," I start to say but I gasp instead when I feel the warmth of his fingers around my ankle. He's on one knee, inspecting my foot.

Alpha Callahan's only child is on one knee—he is touching my foot.

I shuffle back, startled, embarrassed and slightly annoyed at myself for not noticing the movement. I'm usually more attuned to everything that goes on around me. "Don't touch me."

Ronan Callahan draws up to his full height, towering above me like a fucking tree.

I'm a little over 5'5. Nearly everyone towers above me.

It should be nothing special but there is something awfully wrong with this.

The way I have to crane my head back to look at him, and the way his eyes peer down at me, like he doesn't quite mind it.

I'd heard somewhere that he had a thing for taller women. That must not be true, if the way he is looking at me is any indication.

" What is your name?"

My hold tightens on the basket and I keep my gaze focused on the ground. "Nothing worth your time, Alpha." I walk past him. More like limp, but that is not the point.

A small amused laugh stops me mid-limp. "Tell me, what were you searching for this far from the manor?"

I look around and my eyes widen. I didn't notice how far I had walked. How the hell am I supposed to make it back carrying this and walking on an obviously twisted ankle? I grit my teeth, not bothering with a lie. "I smelled something ? —"

" Sweet," he surmises and I turn to look at him, finally. My gaze meets warm, lovely brown and my fingers shake on woven edges. He tilts his head, eyes running down the length of my frame before returning to my face.

I expect a scowl, a grimace, or a flared nostril.

What I do not, however, expect is his leaning forward to.

..to sniff me. He moves so fast, I can barely follow, and before I can stop him, his nose is buried in my neck.

"You're an Omega, and your wolf is barely there.

" His voice is a deep rumble against my skin, heating it up with his minty breath. "That must be why you cannot yet tell."

The basket falls from where I have wedged it as close as possible to my left hip. I bring my hands to push him off, but he catches my fists easily, pressing his nose against my ear. "You smell good, stranger. Will you tell me your name?"

Surreal. It's fucking surreal that this is happening. Even worse is the heat making my legs immobile and my stomach cramp tightly. It's the rush that fills my veins like a deadly fever and my name falls from my lips without my consent. "Fina."

" Short for Seraphina," he mutters against my skin, and his fingers make quick work of my braids, loosening it. "Fitting."

It is too much to process. Him. His confusing words.

His touch. The force of his aura pressing down on my senses, weakening it and shoving himself all in.

His scent is spicy, like myrrh, but the sweetness surrounds him, us, teasing me in the cruelest of ways—stripping me of my thinking faculties.

"If you could just..." I pant. His hands are in my hair, tugging back. "Please stop."

" Do you want me to?" His words burn against my pulse point in the same moment his canines scrape my skin.

No. "Yes."

He chuckles, stopping his kisses but his hands remain where they are. "I do love a little liar, sometimes." A little pause. "You are nothing at all like I expected."

Remember, I think. Remember why you shouldn't be standing in the dark, alone with a man you don't know. Remember what he is. Remember why this is a terrible situation.

But my brain has gone to rest early today and all I can say is, "You've been...expecting me?"

" Why, Fina, I would think everyone out there looks forward to the day they meet their mates."

I freeze. I must have heard the particular word wrong. Surely, he didn't mean...of course not. There is no way... "What did you say?"

He steps away from me and I catch a smile on his face as he looks me over.

His eyes are bright with such joy, I am unsure how to handle it.

I'm pretty sure the last person who ever smiled at me like that was my mother.

"Mates. You are my mate." He reaches for me and I sway, feeling lightheaded and ill at the proclamation.

At the thought that the Goddess thought we were a perfect fit. At the thought of what might come next.

A rejection. I hear it hurts like a bitch for the first few months until time takes the pain away. But it would be more than ideal for me. I haven't included having a man or children into my future. What the hell am I going to do with a mate? Not just an Alpha, but the Head Alpha?

It goes against every plan I've thought up. I hate this place. I can barely even stand working here for another year. I have no interest in being his Luna or a side-piece or a fuck-buddy.

On the other hand, what if he accepted the bond?

Laughter bubbles in my chest. He wouldn't. The dress I have on is covered in holes.

I smell like sweat and soup. My hair is.

..well, there's a lot going on up there.

I don't remember the last time I tried combing through the tresses.

Or plucked the hair off my legs. Hell, I don't remember the last time I ever cared for my appearance. My shoes are worn and near death.

I look like a fucking hobo.

A blonde brow arches when I keep laughing. "That is not a reaction I would have expected either." His brilliant gaze drops to my foot. "It is dislocated. I would set it back right now, but I'd much prefer doing it somewhere with less eyes."

My voice returns to me and I clear my throat. "This has been...entertaining, but I must return to—hey!"

The world is swept from underneath my feet as he hooks a hand under my knees, wraps his fingers around my shoulders and lifts me. "You are going to get me fired!" I yell. "Put me down!"

His amusement only grows. "You're possibly the only woman I have met who would make such an absurd demand."

" The basket ? —"

" Someone else can cater to Mother's unnecessary demands." He cradles me closer to his chest. Tighter. And when he looks down at me, the edges of my vision blur...and glitch.

His lips move but it feels as though my head is under water and the image starts to slip. Why was I out here again? Where am I? Why was the basket of lilacs so important? And...what was his name again?

Ronan...Ron.