The female…

The second she’d entered the room his wolf had leapt to attention and strained against his mind, growling and whining that they needed to get closer. Easier said than done when the female in question was his boss’s Valentine’s date. But then Dante had sent him for the woman’s luggage. Now the perfect excuse to see her again was rolling in a small black and gold carry-on bag behind him.

Her scent was exhilarating in a way he’d never experienced before. His skin prickled like thousands of tiny pins were being scraped slowly over every inch. His core temperature had risen and his wolf was being obnoxious.

“You’d be obnoxious too if you would just admit she’s our mate.” His wolf snapped.

She’s Dante’s date. No way is a royal female going to pay me any mind when she could have the Montague estate as her own.

“She might.”

Royals don’t listen to their wolves. She didn’t react when I came in the room. She didn’t feel the magick. Vance countered silently to his wolf.

“She met our gaze. She felt it,” his wolf answered.

Vance shook his head and leaned down to grip the handle of the suitcase. He lifted it from the floor and bounded up the stairs, hopeful the connection his wolf was imagining was as strong as he claimed. Following the line of the hallway into the left wing of the house, he stopped in front of the guest suite Montague had prepared for the American royal female.

The Montague royal had redecorated and re-designed the entire suite especially for this date. No expense had been spared. New carpets. New wall paper. New furnishings. And he’d had the kitchen preparing food for days for the dinner tonight. A special chef had been flown in. String players were arriving within the hour. Everyone was preparing for the date—a date that would start in less than four hours.

A date his wolf was disturbingly sure would never happen.

He stopped and knocked at her suite door.

No answer.

“Ma’am. Miss Demakis?” He raised his voice. Still no answer. Leaning his ear to the door, he heard the sound of running water and a woman’s voice. If she was in the bathroom suite, his chance to see her before dinner became non-existent. He turned the door knob and stepped into the empty room. “Miss Demakis? I have your bag.” He called again, raising his voice again—loud enough to be heard over the running water. At least he hoped.

The bedroom door hung ajar. The clothes she’d been wearing only a few minutes ago were strewn across the white bedspread. His wolf growled and he tried to envision grandmothers in bathing suits to ward off the rapidly growing erection inside his slacks. It didn’t work. All he could see in his mind was a vision of her creamy white skin. Bared to him. Pink and warm and wet.

The water shut off and the bathroom door swung open. “Could you just put it—”

Her long blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her blue eyes flashed and she clutched the fluffy white robe around her neck a little tighter, making her knuckles whiten. Her throat tightened and her lips parted into a small O. She was beautiful. Her scent filled the room and he had to remind himself to exhale. The magick he’d felt in their brief passing downstairs flooded his system again

“In the bedroom?” He asked, struggling to keep his voice from breaking like a hormonal teenage boy’s.

“Yes. Thank you. Just beside the bed is fine.”

He hurried past her, into the bedroom and set the bag on the floor at the foot of the large four poster mahogany bed frame. When he turned to go back into the sitting area of the guest suite she stood in the doorway. Watching him. Staring so intently he thought he could feel it in his soul.

“Touch her,” his wolf whispered. “Everything will be clear once you touch her.”

She was more beautiful than any woman. Though perhaps she was so stunning because of the magick drawing him toward her. Perhaps the magick made sure that once two fated mates found each other, every other memory of the opposite sex paled in comparison.

“Who are you?” The female’s voice—her name was Hallie—rasped with a sexy intonation that threatened to send his heart pounding straight out of his chest. “Why do I feel like…” She took one step forward before freezing in place again. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No. He can’t—”

He tipped his chin toward her, confused by her words. She speaks to her wolf. Royals ignore and drown out their animal soul. Everyone says this…

“Well she’s either wearing an earpiece or she’s talking to her wolf,” Vance’s wolf snapped back sarcastically and with a tone of smug satisfaction. “Touch her. We need her.”

Vance closed the space between them and extended his hand. “Vance Laughton.”

She reached out and slipped her hand into his. The spark between them on contact nearly made him jump. “H-Hallie Demakis.”

Her hand trembled within his fingers. Her scent permeated the air around him and he could think of nothing more than how wrong it was that she was a royal and destined for a man he served and detested. Dante Montague was a self-righteous-arrogant-royal-prick who slept with anything that would part their legs for him. She deserved better. Hell, any woman deserved better than Montague.

“She is our mate. Do not let her leave.”

“You feel the magick between us. I know you can. I can see it in your eyes.” Vance tightened his grip on her hand. The mate bond had already started to form—just a hint of a bridge had entwined itself between them. Just enough that he was able to feel how much she was attracted to him. As much or more as he was to her.

“I can’t,” she said, attempting to tug her hand away. “This isn’t. My pack expects. I—”

“I would treasure you beyond what you could ever imagine, Hallie. We are meant for each other. Destined by Fate herself.” He stepped closer and buried his nose against her neck, just below her ear. Breathing in her scent was heavenly. He parted his lips and let his tongue flick out to taste just the smallest bit of her skin. So sweet with just a hint of citrus. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Her breath panted out in short gasps. Her heart raced, matching his beat for beat.

Vance nuzzled her cheek, working his lips over the soft skin of her jawline slowly toward her mouth, desperately praying she wouldn’t bolt and run or tell him to leave. She tasted like heaven and his future wrapped into one decadent dessert.

The stiffness in her body released and she put her free palm against his chest as she melted against him. A small moan slipped from between her lips just before he captured her mouth with his. His tongue drove deep, the slow exploration turned primal. Hungry. This was his moment to convince her Fate was worth more than pack position. That magick didn’t make mistakes. Ever.

She came to life beneath his mouth, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, matching his desire stroke for stroke. Hope swelled in his chest. He released her hand and slid his palms down her sides, over the curve of her luscious hips. Parting the robe, he moved his hands around her waist and down to cup her generous round ass. Pulling her tight, he ground her body against his hard length until she whimpered into his mouth.

A moment later perfection shattered. Hallie tensed and pushed away. Worry flashed in her pale blue eyes. She stepped backward, wrapping the robe tightly around her body to conceal everything he’d seen and touched. Everything he’d ever dreamed of having. A fated mate was a gift from the gods. Not something that came along for everyone.

“We are fated.”

She shook her head, tears glistening and falling down her cheeks taking his hopes with them. “I can’t. My responsibilities prevent me from…from letting this interfere. You have to go.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was firm. Her arms were clasped tightly around her body, closing it off from any further advances. “This was a mistake. I can’t—”

“This was not a mistake,” he said, his voice taking on the growl of his wolf. He stepped closer, matching her step for step as she backed out of the bedroom. “You having dinner with that royal piss-ant downstairs would be a mistake though. Throwing away the connection we have. That would be a mistake.” He fought to keep his voice angry. Fought to hide the pain knifing his chest. Strangling his wolf. Choking out his will to exist without her. Nothing on earth would enable him to continue working in the Montague house if she became Dante’s mate.