As I wander down the path behind Helios, the crushed shells beneath my feet make a gritty crunching noise. Heels aren’t the best choice for a midnight walk through the garden, but I refuse to wear hiking boots with my evening gown. Made of black silk with a black lace overlay, it’s far too lovely to mar with ugly footwear.

Earlier in the evening, an unexpected storm blew in, wiping out the oppressive heat and humidity that’d hung over the countryside for days and showering the estate with rain. Now the cool air carries the scent of fresh water, damp earth, and sweet-smelling flowers.

The massive house comes into view, lit up like a birthday cake with hundreds of candles. Reaching behind my head, I double-check the knot that keeps my mask in place and readjust it so I can see a little better.

Up ahead, I spot a gentleman sauntering down the path, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress pants. Like me, he’s wearing a mask, but he’s too far away to discern what it is.

As he moves closer, I see it’s a white wolf mask that covers everything except his mouth and chin. Pointy ears poke out the top and a long snout protrudes over his nose.

He comes to a stop in front of me, and I take note of the broad shoulders and muscular arms outlined by his black tuxedo shirt. His V-shaped torso tapers into a lean waist and long legs.

“Good evening,” he says.

His deep voice rasps over my nerve endings, sending goose bumps skittering along my bare shoulders and arms.

“Hello.”

“Nice night for a stroll.”

“Yes, it is,” I agree.

“I like your mask. A bumblebee, right?”

I touch the top of one of the antennae that juts from the top of my mask. “Yes.”

“Ever been stung by one?”

“No. You?”

“One flew down the collar of my shirt when I was a teenager and stung me seventeen times.”

“Ouch. That sounds horribly painful.”

“Did you know there are over two hundred species of bumblebees?” he asks.

“I had no idea.” I touch the end of the wolf’s snout, just an inch above the man’s sexy lips. “I like your mask too. Are you a lone wolf?”

“No. I’m part of a fairly large pack. Did you know each and every wolf has its own unique howl so other members of the pack can identify it?”

“Really? That’s fascinating.”

He moves a little closer, and I catch a whiff of him, a spicy smell that literally makes my mouth water. “I seem to have lost my cufflink. Would you help me search for it?”

“Do you remember where you saw it last?”

“Near the folly, I think.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “A folly is an outdoor building that has no purpose other than decoration.”

“I know what a folly is.” I tilt my head. “You expect me to go somewhere secluded, in the dark, with you?”

His mouth kicks up in a wicked smile. “I’m quite harmless, I assure you.”

“And yet you’re wearing a mask of a deadly predator.”

“Wolves have a bad reputation, but they’re actually very loyal and affectionate. They’re social animals.” He runs the rough pad of his forefinger across my collarbone, and my nipples pucker inside my bustier. “Did you know wolves mate for life?”

“No.”

“It’s true,” he murmurs. “They find that one special wolf and never stray.”

“In that regard, I’m exactly like a wolf.”

“As am I.” He sweeps his arm to the side. “Shall we make our way toward the folly?”

When I nod, he flattens his palm against my lower back and ushers me forward. The heat from his hand radiates through my dress, sparking a simmer low in my pelvis.

“Is this the first time you’re attending the masquerade ball?” he asks, shortening his strides to keep pace with mine. “I don’t recognize you.”

“No. I attend every year.”

“You’re well-acquainted with the royal family then?”

I suppress a smile. “I would say so, yes.”

“I heard that Prince Marco and his wife, Cassandra, aren’t in attendance this evening.”

“I heard that as well. I wonder why they aren’t here.”

“Most likely because they have a new baby at home. Prince Rafael.”

“If I’m not mistaken, his first birthday is next month.”

“I believe you’re correct. Perhaps his parents aren’t able to attend the ball because he’s teething and cranky and cries piteously unless his father carries him around until he can’t feel his arms.”

“Perhaps,” I agree, choking back my laughter. “I’ve heard Prince Marco is a wonderful father ... very devoted to his children. One might even say he spoils them.”

“Hmm. I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.” He slants a sideways glance toward me. “And how many children do they have now?”

“It’s hard to keep track, they have so many.” I hold up my hand and start ticking off names. “There’s Sofia, who was born only four months after they wed in secret. Then there’s Adela, Mariella, Zara, and the baby—the only boy—Rafael. So that’s five.”

He whistles, clearly awed by the prince’s prolificacy. I’m rather impressed with it myself.

“Was that a wolf whistle?” I tease.

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Guess it was.” He shakes his head. “Five children in ten years. Scandalous. Absolutely scandalous.”

Through the darkness, the light gray stones of the folly appear. I slow my steps, wanting to prolong my time with this man whose laugh makes me feel as if I have champagne running through my veins instead of blood. 

“Prince Marco must not be able to keep his hands off his wife,” he says. “I can’t blame him though. Have you seen her? She’s stunning.”

“After all those children, she’s getting a little ... plump, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he retorts. “Everything about her is stunning.”

I snort. “If anyone’s stunning, it’s her husband. Maybe she’s the one who can’t keep her hands off him.”

Under the edge of his mask, his lips twitch. “Maybe.” He folds his cuff and begins to roll it up his forearm. “I’ve heard that Prince Marco is absolutely besotted with his wife, even after a decade of marriage.”

“Interesting,” I say. “I’ve heard it’s the other way around—she’s besotted with him.”

“I think they share many of the same interests.”

“You’re referring to the foundation they established a few years ago—the one that supports the mental health of young children and adolescents?”

“Yes,” he answers. “It’s a good cause.”

Satisfaction trickles through me. I became a teacher because I wanted to help children reach their potential, and the foundation is improving the lives of children in Alsania and around the world. 

“Supposedly, Prince Marco is shameless when it comes to soliciting donations from his obscenely wealthy friends and acquaintances,” I say.

The masked man snorts loudly. “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s shameless when it comes to a lot of things.”

We reach the base of the stairs leading to the folly, and the man in the wolf mask silently offers his arm to me. I take it, curving one hand over the muscles of his forearm and lifting the skirt of my gown with my other one.

With every step up, my heart beats faster and faster until it’s pounding furiously. The moment we pass through the folly’s arched doorway, he spins me around and propels me backward until my spine bumps into cold stones.

Trapped between his body and the wall, I hook the edge of my fingers into the waistband of his pants, just above the clasp. Arousal drips from my body, and without the barrier of panties, it glazes the insides of my thighs. 

“Wolf,” I breathe. 

“Bumblebee.”

He removes my mask and then removes his own. It’s too dark to see his face clearly, but I know exactly who’s pressed against me, so close I can feel the hard jut of his erect cock.

“Wife,” he growls.

“Husband.”

He leans down until our mouths touch. Against my lips he whispers, “Mine.”

“Always.”