Page 11 of Mismatched Mates (Special Bear Protectors)

JANE

I squirmed in the chair, my fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on my lap as I sat with my eyes closed in front of the vanity. When Victoria heard about the gala, she’d insisted on coming over and making sure I looked my absolute best.

"Hold still," Victoria chided gently, her expert hands wielding a brush with the precision of a surgeon. "I can't work miracles if you keep fidgeting."

"Miracles? Is that what we're calling this makeover?"

Victoria's lips quirked into a smile as she dusted powder across my cheekbones. "Well, considering your usual beauty routine consists of chapstick and a prayer, I'd say we're definitely in miracle territory."

"I feel ridiculous," I muttered, watching as she expertly blended foundation into my skin. "Like a kid playing dress-up in her mom's makeup."

Victoria's eyes met mine in the mirror, her gaze softening. "You're not ridiculous, Jane. You're stunning. And tonight, everyone else is going to see what I see."

I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. When she’d first come to Pine River as Luke’s date—then mate—I hadn’t been the most welcoming. As my older brother, and as a man whose marriage had already broken down once, I didn’t want him to be with anyone except his perfect person, and I hadn’t been able to imagine how this human woman could possibly match him. But I was wrong.

It was moments like these that reminded me how far we'd come - from wary strangers to something approaching friendship.

As Victoria continued her work, applying eyeshadow with delicate strokes, I found myself relaxing into the process. The gentle sweep of brushes against my skin became almost meditative.

"You know," I said quietly, "I never thought I'd be sitting here, letting you do... this." I gestured vaguely at my face. "Life's funny sometimes, isn't it?"

“It is,” she agreed.

At the time, I’d thought it was a bit of an assumption, maybe even an imposition, but seeing all the different brushes, pots, jars, tubes and colors spread out before me made me realize just how out of depth I was.

Sensing my discomfort, Victoria said, "They won't bite," her tone casual but layered with meaning. "Not the businessmen, not the wolves, not even Grant."

I snorted. "Grant might. He seems the type."

Victoria's laugh was light, but her eyes were knowing. "Only if you ask nicely."

I felt heat rush to my cheeks, grateful for the layers of makeup hiding my blush. As Victoria applied the final touches - a swipe of mascara here, a dab of lipstick there - I reflected on how surreal this felt.

"You know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "I never imagined myself stepping into Grant's world, a wolves world. I mean. It's so... different from everything I know."

Victoria's hands stilled for a moment. "Different doesn't always mean bad, Jane. Sometimes it's just... an adventure waiting to happen. Ask me how I know." She cocked her head sideways playfully; she hadn’t know about Luke being a shifter when they’d started dating.

I nodded, letting her words sink in. The soft click of the lipstick cap seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room.

I kept my eyes closed as Victoria finished supplanting my skin, and finally spritzed me. “There you go,” she said, unmistakable pride in her voice. “Open your eyes."

I hesitated, almost afraid of what I'd see. Would I even recognize myself? Slowly, I opened my eyes and gasped.

The woman in the mirror was... me. But also not me. Victoria hadn’t painted over my features, turned me into a delicate, unidentifiable version of myself. She’d just enhanced what was already there. My cheekbones looked sharper, my eyes more intense. My lips were fuller, painted a deep, rich color that made me think of ripe berries.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, too, you know.”

I bit back the urge to tell her that Grant and I weren’t a thing. The truth was, my stomach squirmed every time I thought about him—and it made no sense. We’d barely spent any time together. Kissed once, and even that was just for show.

Obviously I had a serious case of the nerves.

A sharp knock on the door made me jump. Victoria shot me a reassuring smile before slipping out to answer it.

When Victoria returned, she was holding a velvet garment bag with in one hand and a small, sleek envelope in the other. My stomach did a little flip.

"Looks like someone's been thinking about you," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

The metallic rasp the zipper sliding down the bag punctured the heavy silence.

"Oh," I whispered, unable to form a more coherent thought.

The dress was... stunning. Deep emerald silk that shimmered in the light, with a demure neckline and a back that... well, let's just say it left little to the imagination. As Victoria held it up, I caught a whiff of lavender - subtle and luxurious.

Victoria handed over the envelope. "I think this is for you."

With trembling fingers, I opened it, pulling out a small card. The handwriting was bold and sure: " For tonight. Make them look twice ."

I gripped the paper tighter, my mind racing. What was this? First, stepping in to help with Jason and now—this extravagant gift?

"Well?" Victoria prompted, grinning. "Are you going to try it on or what?"

I hesitated, torn between excitement and trepidation. "I don't know, Victoria. This isn't really me."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, live a little!"

Before I could protest further, she was helping me out of my clothes and into the dress. The silk felt cool against my skin at first, but quickly warmed, molding to my body like it was made for me. Which, I realized with a start, it probably was."How did he know my size?" I murmured, more to myself than Victoria.

She shrugged, fastening a delicate necklace around my throat.

"Does it matter? Now, take a look."

I turned to the mirror and felt my breath catch. The woman staring back at me was... a stranger. A gorgeous, confident stranger who looked like she could take on the world. Or at least a room full of billionaires.

A part of me felt like an imposter, playing dress-up in clothes I had no business wearing. But another part... another part felt a thrill of excitement. "Jason never did anything like this," I found myself saying. "In our entire marriage, he never once..."

I trailed off, suddenly unsure. Was this really Grant's doing? Or did the Elston family have an army of personal shoppers to handle these things?

"Jane," Victoria said gently, "stop overthinking it.”

“I think he’s here,” Victoria murmured, glancing from the door towards the window. Her face split into a mischievous grin. “Go get your man.”

I took a deep breath and opened the door. And promptly forgot how to breathe altogether.

Grant stood there, looking like sin incarnate in a fitted black Henley that clung to his muscular frame in ways that should be illegal. The sight of his tanned skin peeking out at the collar made my mouth go dry. My stomach dipped like it had gotten on a rollercoaster ride without me.

Without a word, I slammed the door shut in his face.I whirled to face Victoria, my eyes wide with panic. "I can't do this," I hissed.

She raised an eyebrow. "You just slammed the door in his face."

"I know!" I groaned. "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Victoria said, fighting back a laugh. "You're just... reacting to some very potent pheromones. Now open that door and knock his socks off."

Nothing about my reaction to this, or him, made sense, and the thought twisted me up into tighter knots. I felt more nervous than I’d been on my wedding day.

I nodded, trying to regain my composure. I could do this. I was a grown woman. I opened the door again, pasting on what I hoped was a confident smile.

"Hi," I managed. "Sorry about that. I, uh... thought I saw a spider."

Grant's lips quirked up in amusement. "A spider. Right."

The scent of wild pine washed over me, making my bear paw with approval. I fought to keep my voice steady. "You look... nice."

Nice? He looked like he'd stepped out of thriller movie poster, all dangerous allure and raw power. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

His gray eyes held a hint of the storm that had captivated me the very first time we’d met, and the scar on his lip twisted into a grin as he looked me up and down appreciatively.

“You,” he told me, reaching for my hand, “are going to make tongues wag tonight, and I wholly approve.”

The last time I’d worn a dress had been probably a few years ago, and it had been even longer since I’d last worn heels. But I was a girl who kickboxed every other day, and I wasn’t about to let a pair of stilettos get the best of me.

“I see even a company event can’t entice you into a suit,” I teased as we headed down the path for the car. Driven, no doubt, by Winslow.

“Suits are for my brothers,” Grant said, handing me into the back seat. “I’m the black sheep of the family—got to keep reminding people or they might forget.” He kept hold of my hand, tucking it against his chest. “Sorry I haven’t been more available. Work’s been crazy.”

“Guarding celebrities?”

“Not quite that glamorous,” he said wryly. I could feel the thud of his heart against the back of my hand, and the sensation sent a new awareness blooming through me. My skin tingled. I knew I should rip my hand away, but there was something nice about being held. After Jason left, I’d stuck to myself, and that was a good thing. No girl needed a man.

But sometimes it was nice to have one anyway.

“How did your family take it?” I asked.

He chuckled. “About as well as you’d expected. Konrad thought it was hilarious—both the coincidence and my defiance—but my Father was less impressed. My sister, actually, was angrier than I thought.”

“You have a sister? The press doesn’t say much about her.”

“Yeah. There’s about eight years between us, but she’s the kind of person you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

I thought about Konrad, how he had broken Heather’s heart and never looked back. The family, richer than anyone had the right to be. And the man beside me, who was the opposite of everything I thought the Elstons stood for.

There was a lump in my throat that I didn’t quite understand. My skin was sensitizing under my clothes, hot in a way I hadn’t been since our date and that kiss.

He couldn’t know how much I’d been fantasizing about that kiss. How amazing it was. For someone like him, who could have a new girl every night, it was probably nothing special. I was just severely lacking in experience.

“I can practically feel you thinking,” Grant said, his voice low. The sound of it melded with the hum of the car’s engine, and it sank deep inside me, hitting places mere sound shouldn’t. He shifted, clothes rustling as he raised the back of my hand to his mouth. His lips were soft and my breath caught.

He heard it.

“There’ll be lots of cameras tonight,” he said, turning my hand so he was whispering the words against the delicate skin of my wrist. He inhaled, and another bolt of desire went through me. I shifted in my seat, although as a shifter—he could probably smell my arousal.

Maybe that was what he wanted. After all, his pack would be there, and his Father was a wolf. I was his statement piece.

“Pretend like it’s us against the world,” he said.

How did he make that sound so good? We were sitting in the dark, barely touching, barely speaking, and I could feel my pulse thrumming between my legs. I drew in a sharp breath, bringing with it the scent of musk. “Okay. Won’t your driver tell?”

“Winslow knows how to keep a secret, believe me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Winslow called from the front. “As far as I’m concerned, I see nothing, hear nothing.”

“Plausible deniability.” Grant grinned.

“Exactly,” Winslow concurred, and I caught a flash of his smile in the rearview mirror. This relationship was so different from what I’d been expecting—familiar, friendly even—that I didn’t know what to think. Rich guys were supposed to be assholes. That was the rule, and it was certainly the game Konrad had ended up playing with Heather back when they were dating.

But Grant seemed different.

My heart did a little flip, and I cursed inwardly. This man was dangerous in ways I hadn't anticipated.

The car rounded a corner and the momentum swung me into Grant. His laugh flowered across my cheek. “Easy, sweetheart.”

Flushing, I drew back, but the bear inside me growled in delight. She wanted him to call me sweetheart, and by the feel of it she wanted a whole lot more than that, but I clamped down on the sensations before they could progress any further through my body.

Business. Business only .

The car glided to a stop, and my stomach lurched with it. Show time.

"Ready?" Grant's voice was low, his hand warm on mine.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The door opened, and suddenly, the world exploded into chaos.

Flashes erupted like lightning, momentarily blinding me. The roar of voices hit next—a din of shouted questions and excited chatter. I blinked rapidly, trying to orient myself as Grant's hand found the small of my back, guiding me forward.

His touch on my bare skin sent a jolt through me, grounding and electrifying all at once. I fought the urge to lean into him, acutely aware of the dozens of eyes on us.

"Smile," Grant murmured, his lips barely moving. "You look stunning."

I plastered on what I hoped was a confident grin, channeling my inner Victoria. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

This certainly didn’t feel just like business. Not when his gaze traveled up and down my body with the slow assurance of a man who doesn’t mind who knows that he likes what he sees.

Not when he took my hand and laced our fingers together. The place stank of wolf, and under ordinary circumstances, I’d have rebelled against it. Found it disgusting, maybe. But my nostrils were filled with Grant’s scent, masking musk from the wolves, making it bearable. Almost pleasant.

We ascended the grand staircase, passing under an archway dripping with crystal chandeliers. The opulence was staggering—it felt like stepping into another world.

As we entered, a murmur of whispers followed us. I felt a prickling along my spine, my bear restless. A few wolves send us appraising glances, making no attempt to hide their contempt.

This should be fun.

“I’m going to introduce you to my Father first,” he murmured. “Then I’m going to take a seat and you’re going to look at me like you can’t wait to get home and fuck me.”

Fuck me.

It felt as if his words carved themselves into my skin. The crude term bounced around my brain as he led me to his father, and I almost forgot to be afraid of the alpha as he looked me up and down.

Vince Elston was every bit as intimidating as I'd imagined—tall, broad-shouldered, with steel-gray hair and eyes. Eyes that Grant had obviously inherited. There were deep, pale crow’s feet around his eyes, and his mouth was bracketed by lines. Even so, his broad shoulders intimated he could probably beat me in a fight from willpower alone, if he wished.

“Father,” Grant said, and the sound of his voice grounded me. “This is Jane. My girlfriend.” How he managed to sound possessive with that title, I didn’t know, but it made my stomach flip.

His handshake was firm, bordering on painful. I refused to wince, even as my bear stirred. Yup, I’m a bear. We’re sworn enemies, but now all I can think about is all the inappropriate things I want to do to your son, and I should probably be blushing, but that would be a sign of weakness, and there is no way I’m giving you even a hint of that .

“Hi, Mr. Elston. It’s so good to finally meet you. Grant has told me so much about you.” The cliched words smoothly rolled off my tongue, punctuated by a possessive touch of Grant’s shoulder. I beamed at him, my expression sugary.

Grant returned it with an adoring look. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with forced politeness. It was the expected response, after all.

But then he added, “I hope you’re going to be right for Grant.”

Grant stepped between us before any more veiled threats could be unleashed. “Come, let’s get ourselves situated,” he said, leading me away from the family party.

Briefly, I was alarmed that he was going to introduce me to Konrad and I was going to have to play both oblivious and nice, but Grant led me straight to our table in the ballroom.

The ballroom was an ode to the family’s wealth and power, but it achieved that effect quietly. The Elstons were old money after all; they were discretely opulent. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm, golden light, highlighting the ornate moldings and gilded accents. Plush velvet drapes in deep hues framed tall windows overlooking manicured gardens. Priceless paintings of nature and strength adorned the walls, nodding to their shifter heritage.

Each table was draped in linen and decorated with a large but simple bouquet of peonies—out of season but when money’s no object, that doesn’t matter. At one end stood a stage gleaming under soft spotlights as musicians played classical melodies. Waiters elegantly circulated with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne as Grant confidently made his way through the crowd. The party planner in me mentally tallied up the cost to host such an event.

A waiter appeared, offering champagne. I gratefully accepted a flute, the crisp bubbles a welcome distraction as they hit my tongue. Around us, the room buzzed with laughter and conversation.

“Here’s to defeating them at their game. And to your impressive acting skills,” Grant toasted.

“I follow instructions well, when it suits me.”

“Good thing our interests align. I’d hate to be on the opposing team.” His voice was a little rough, and when he drank, I watched the bob of his throat, half consumed with the desire to put my mouth against his skin. It felt as though we were opposite sides of a fuse, and we both held a match. All it would take was for one of us to light it, and we would burn.

I wanted to taste the flames.

Alcohol. Champagne. I took a large sip and tried to steady myself, not thinking about the way his fingers were trailing up the bare skin of my arms.

“This dress looks even better on you than I’d imagined,” he murmured, eyes hot and very, very dark. “But it has me wondering what lies underneath.”

This is a game . Except it felt more real than anything else had in years. My chest felt too tight. When did the pretending end and the truth begin?

“Thank you for that by the way—the dress I mean.”

I took another gulp of champagne and turned away, my palms sweating and my heart pounding. As I shifted, adjusting myself, he caught his breath and took hold of my hips, stilling me. I froze.

“My pleasure,” he rasped in my ear just as the doors opened and the majority of the guests began threading through the room.

I went hot and prickly all over. His hand slid along my waist, and I wriggled away. My bear grumbled her disapproval, but if I didn’t escape then, I wouldn’t have been able to move at all. My body ached for his in a way I’d never experienced before, like it wasn’t merely a desire but a need , red-hot and potent.

We weaved our way towards our table and took our seats. "Relax," he whispered, his breath warm against my neck. "You look like you're about to bolt."

I forced a smile, hyper-aware of his fingers tracing lazy circles on my leg. "Can you blame me? This isn't exactly my usual Friday night."

He laughed, the sound vibrating through me. "No, I suppose planning children's birthday parties is a bit different from rubbing elbows with Pine River's elite."

I elbowed him lightly. "Hey, you'd be surprised how cutthroat the world of balloon animals can be."

He flashed me a crooked grin. “Would you be okay if I put my hand on your leg during the speeches?”

I knew that from the outside, it was a subtle show of solidarity and unity. Possession. The dark thought sent another bolt of need through me. Jerkily, I nodded, and he placed his hand very properly on my leg, near the knee. Nowhere even near the ache.

As we bantered, I felt some of my earlier tension melt away. It was dangerous, this chemistry between us. I knew I should keep my guard up, remember that this was all for show. But with Grant's arms around me and his warmth seeping into my skin, it was getting harder and harder to remember why.

As predicted, the gala was just as long and as dull as I thought it would be. The only thing that kept my focus was the position of Grant’s hand on my leg. This wasn’t the person I was used to being, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus on the conversation, the dinner, the speeches, or anything.

For the first time in my life, a man had utterly unsettled me, and as much as I hated the realization, I couldn’t bring myself to ignore him. There was a rakish quality to his broader interactions, that was undeniable, but his attentiveness spoke volumes; he made sure I always had water, that I wasn’t uncomfortable, and if anyone even insinuated that I didn’t belong here, his eyes lost their playful gleam and he shut it down with a ferocity that might have alarmed me if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on appearing normal.

Eventually, the inevitable happened and Grant was whisked away, leaving me on my own. “Excuse me,” I said to no one in particular, and left the ballroom in search of some fresh air. Outside, the waning moon grazed the tops of the trees, the air smelled of pine and woodsmoke and the fresh breeze that always swept down from the mountains.

My shoulders relaxed. A little of the fizzing in my belly subsided. I needed space from Grant, even if every atom in my body wanted to find him again, like our bodies were connected by elastic bands, and the space between us was making them draw tight.

Infatuation, that was all this was. No one had ever treated me like this, and I was getting carried away. Heather’s doom and gloom predictions echoed in my mind, which only strengthened my resolve to prove her wrong.

I was in control.

“Jane?” The elastic band snapped tight. His voice was a low purr. “I turned around and you were gone.”

Slowly, I turned, confronted with all six-foot-too-many of him in the doorway, the light shining behind him like he was some kind of angel. But we both knew better than that.

He strolled—no prowled —closer, and touched his finger to my cheek. “Do you want to go home?”

Good question, but I couldn’t bring myself to utter a sensible response. Yes , because this wasn’t the place where I belonged; all glam and glitz and compliments delivered with a sting. No , because if I went home, then that meant the evening would end, and I knew a part of me would miss him.

I wavered, unsure of what I wanted or needed in that moment. "I... I'm not sure," I finally admitted.

Grant's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his expression. He took a step closer, his hand lingering on my cheek. “Sometimes these events can be suffocating, especially when you're surrounded by people who don't truly see you for who you are."

I glanced up at him, searching for any hint of pretense or deception, but all I found was sincerity in his gaze. Was he talking about me or him?

“I'm not interested in anything casual,” I blurt out. Especially not with someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Grant echoed, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I looked up and met his gaze. "You know exactly what I mean. You're... trouble."

He didn't deny it. Instead, a slow smile spread across his face, making him look even more infuriatingly handsome. "Maybe. But maybe a little trouble is exactly what you need."

I laughed, but there's an edge of truth to his words that I can't quite shake. "You really think you know me, don’t you?"

He tilted his head, studying me. "I think I know enough to see that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I think you've spent a lot of time putting everyone else first."

The air between us shifted, the teasing banter giving way to something more serious. I felt the tension tightening like a wire, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I want to pull away or lean in.

"You don't know anything about me," I protested, though my voice wavered just a little.

Grant's expression softened, his smirk fading. "Maybe not everything. But I know you deserve more than what you’ve been settling for."

The words hit harder than I expected, and I swallowed, trying to brush off the sudden lump in my throat. "And what, exactly, do you think I’ve been settling for?"

His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "A life that doesn't make you happy.

For a moment, I’m speechless. It’s like he saw through all the walls I’ve spent years building, straight to the raw parts of me I’ve tried so hard to hide. Part of me wanted to tell him he’s wrong, that I’m fine, that I don’t need rescuing. But another part of me—a quieter, more honest part—knew that he wasn’t entirely off the mark.

"I don't need saving," I finally said, my voice firmer than I felt.

Grant held my gaze, his expression unreadable. "I’m not trying to save you, Jane. I’m just offering you a chance to remember what it’s like to feel... something more." He brushed his thumb against the corner of my mouth. Then, even though no one was watching, even though we didn’t need to pretend, he bent down and kissed me. Soft. Full on the mouth. His fingers strayed to the hinge of my jaw, strong and sure, and although I knew better than to get my panties in a twist over a man who put the casual in one night stand, I found myself tilting my head back, opening myself up to him.

He made a low sound in the back of his throat and kissed me harder.

My bear rolled over, presenting herself, and I felt the way my body did the same: softening, molding myself to him.

This wasn't like the performative peck we'd shared earlier for the benefit of prying eyes. This was real, raw, and it ignited something in me I thought I might never find.

“Fuck,” he breathed, leaning back, eyes shining, beautifully dark. A beautiful woman could be criminal, but a beautiful man? He was punishment personified. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

I tugged him back against me. “Then don’t stop.”