Page 4

Ruby

I stay frozen in Percy’s closet, barely breathing as Hamilton and Percy leave the room. Hamilton drones on about construction permits and profit margins.

After what feels like an eternity of budget talk (though my wolf hearing catches every damning detail about their plans for Wolfstone, even though Percy closed the door), Hamilton shifts to a tone I recognize all too well from city council meetings—the condescending big-brother voice.

“Remember what happened last time you went soft on a project, Percy,” he says, his voice lower but still audible to my wolf ears.

“The Riverside fiasco cost us millions because you insisted on ‘preserving the ecosystem.’” He practically spits the last words.

“Dad put me in charge for a reason. Don’t forget that.

” Percy’s response is too quiet to hear, but his tone sounds tight, defensive.

Hamilton whispers something else in Percy’s ear—I catch only fragments about “family reputation”—but it sounds clipped, threatening.

Then, he finally grunts his goodbye, the door slamming closed with unnecessary force.

Silence fills the penthouse for three long beats before Percy whispers, “Ruby? He’s gone.”

I push the closet door open with more force than necessary, nearly sending it flying off its hinges. Percy stands there in his silk boxers, looking equal parts relieved and apprehensive.

“So,” I say, clutching my clothes to my chest like armour, “that was enlightening. You’re not just building luxury condos—you’re adding a ‘predator-secure’ shopping district with anti-wolf security measures. How progressive.”

Percy, at least, has the decency to look uncomfortable. “Ham likes to exaggerate the security features for investors.”

“Really? Because it sounded like you’re installing silver-infused perimeter fencing. Silver , Percy. Do you know what that does to wolf skin?” My voice rises with each word, my nakedness forgotten in my anger.

“It burns us. Scars us. Some wolves never recover from silver exposure.”

“It was never my idea,” he says, stepping closer. “Hamilton pushes the anti-predator angle. I just design the buildings.”

“Just following orders?” I sneer. “How noble.”

He runs a hand over his face. “It’s complicated.”

“It really isn’t, Percy,” I snap. “What you and your brothers are proposing will destroy my heritage.”

I yank on my clothes, my hands trembling with the effort to focus. The heat is still there, humming under my skin, but my anger cuts through it.

For once, fury wins over instinct.

Percy watches me dress with a mixture of disappointment and something else—something that looks suspiciously like admiration. “Wolfstone is really important to you.”

Is he dense, or do the Porkwell brothers all share the same brain cell?

“Of course it’s important!” I bark, struggling with my bra clasp in my agitation.

“It’s the last place where wolves can just…

be wolves, where we don’t have to pretend to be something we’re not to make prey species comfortable.

Where our pups can run free without being registered and tagged like criminals. ”

Before I realize what’s happening, Percy is behind me, his fingers gently taking over my mangling clasp. “Let me.”

His touch on my bare back sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. Despite everything I’ve just heard, my traitorous body still responds to him.

“I really did want to show you the development plans,” he says softly, his breath warm against my neck. “I’ve been working on alterations to Hamilton’s original vision, preserving more of the natural landscape, incorporating wolf-friendly spaces.”

The clasp clicks into place, but his hands don’t leave my skin. They rest lightly on my shoulders, neither demanding nor retreating.

“Why would you do that?” I ask, turning to face him, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing.

His eyes meet mine, unusually serious. “Because your article was right. Not about my family being terrorists—that was excessive—but about the importance of preserving heritage. I’ve been researching wolf cultural sites.”

I blink, genuinely surprised. “You have?”

“I’m an architect, Ruby. I respect history, structure… Meaning.” His thumb traces a small circle on my shoulder. “I’m not the villain you think I am.”

I should step away. I should finish dressing and leave. Instead, I find myself searching his face for deception and finding none. “Prove it,” I challenge.

“How?”

“Show me these alleged alterations.” My chin lifts defiantly. “Right now.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “They’re in my office. Down the hall.”

Part of me—the advocate, the protector, the voice for my pack—genuinely wants to see these plans. But another part—the wolf in heat, the female responding to a powerful male—just wants an excuse to stay.

“Lead the way,” I say, leaving my unbuttoned blouse open over my bra.

Percy’s office is what you’d expect from a high-end architect—drafting table, multiple monitors, and scale models of various buildings. But what catches my eye is the detailed Wolfstone Preserve model, complete with miniature trees, the winding creek, and even the sacred rock.

“This is your plan?” I ask, leaning over the model.

Percy moves behind me, pointing to various sections.

“Hamilton wanted to clear-cut everything, but I’ve redesigned it to preserve the old-growth forest on the north ridge.

And these areas—” he indicates several green spaces “—would remain untouched natural zones. Including the traditional den sites.”

I look up at him in surprise. “How did you know where the den sites are? Prey shifters never enter wolf territory.”

A slight flush colors his cheeks. “I might have spent some nights hiking the area—observing, learning.”

The image of Percy Porkwell trudging through wolf territory in the dark, probably in expensive hiking boots utterly unsuited for the terrain, makes something warm bloom in my chest.

“You could have been hurt,” I say, oddly touched. “Lone pig in wolf territory after dark… not everyone would recognize you as a Porkwell.”

“Worth the risk.” His eyes hold mine, and suddenly, we’re not talking about architectural plans anymore.

Heat surges through me—a jolt of lust that leaves me slightly dizzy. My skin tingles, hyper-aware of his closeness, his scent, the warm breath that grazes my cheek as he speaks.This thoughtful side of him is both surprising and dangerous, burning through my defenses effortlessly.

He leans around me to point at something on the model, and my body betrays me—arching into him, pressing my ass against him, craving his touch, his cock.

I don’t know who moves first.

One moment we’re discussing land use, and the next, his mouth is on mine—hungry, insistent, possessive. My back hits the drafting table, sending pencils scattering across the floor. I should care about the Wolfstone model, which sits mere inches from being crushed beneath us.

I don’t.

“This doesn’t mean I agree with your plans,” I gasp as his mouth travels down my neck.

“Noted.” His tusks graze my collarbone, sending shivers across my skin. “Consider this a preliminary negotiation.”

My laugh turns into a moan as his hands push my open shirt off my shoulders. “Is this how the Porkwell’s do all their business?”

“Only with very special partners.” His mouth captures mine again as his hands make quick work of my bra.

The feeling is different from our earlier encounter.

Before, it was all heat-driven urgency and shock at our own actions. Now, there’s an undercurrent of something else— curiosity and exploration. His hands are more deliberate, and my responses are more honest.

When he cups my breasts, I arch into his touch, willingly savouring the softness of his hands. My fingers trace the muscled expanse of his back, and I feel him shudder; the reaction feels unguarded.

We’re discovering each other beyond the species stereotypes, beyond the professional antagonism.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every inch of you.”

Coming from anyone else, I’d scoff at the line. But Percy’s voice holds wonder, as though he’s genuinely surprised by his own reaction to me.

I pull back enough to look at him. “You don’t have to sound so shocked.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating pleasantly against my chest. “I’ve spent years looking at architectural perfection, Ruby. I know beauty when I see it—even when it comes in unexpected packages.”

“Sweet talker.” I push him back toward the leather office chair, surprising both of us with my boldness. “Sit.”

He complies without hesitation, and the significance isn’t lost on me.

In the boardroom, in public spaces, prey species never yield to predators.

They’ve built an entire society around making sure we know our place.

Yet here, in this intimate space, Percy—heir to the Porkwell empire—follows my lead without question.

The power of it sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with my heat cycle, and everything to do with being acknowledged as an equal.

Or maybe, in this moment, even something more.

I straddle his lap feeling a rush of heat as his eyes widen. His hands immediately find my hips, steadying me as I grind my soaking panties against the impressive bulge in his boxers.

For once, I’m not the wolf trying to be heard in rooms designed to silence me. Here, he listens to every move, every sound I make.

He is completely at my mercy.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin.

“Just thinking about how different this is,” I admit. “Out there, I’m just the angry wolf activist. In here…”

“In here, you’re Ruby,” he finishes. “And I’m just Percy. No family legacies, no species politics. Just us.”

It’s a beautiful thought. I wonder how long it can last.

“This is better than our meetings at City Hall,” he says, voice strained.

I nip at his ear, letting my teeth graze the sensitive flesh. “Speak for yourself. I enjoy watching you squirm during my public comments.”