Harden
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. What had come over him? The plan was to just go, have some food and some drink, and then leave. Without potentially embarrassing himself with rejection.
You aren’t going to get rejected.
That remained to be seen. His inner self was fairly confident of that fact, but Harden doubted it. In fact, he was doubting much of what he felt these days. Ever since he and his friends had been rescued from imprisonment, he’d felt…different. It had taken him some time to realize what the change was, but it had become apparent the first day he’d been allowed out and about onto the hospital grounds. In a fit of joy at the freedom, he’d called to his wolf and lunged forward toward the ground.
Where he’d promptly fallen on his face and eaten a mouthful of dirt and grass. His wolf, a constant companion for fourteen years, hadn’t come to him when he’d called. Harden had been shocked. Stunned. Confused. You name it, he’d felt it. Anger, fear, sadness, jealousy, hatred, depression, they’d all taken root, alternating in when they would affect him. He’d slowly come to terms with the fact that his wolf might never come back.
The odd part was, he still acted like a shifter. His senses were still superior, his strength stronger, and his speed quicker. He could heal faster and recover sooner. All of those remained with him. But he couldn’t shift into his wolf form. For a decade and a half he and his wolf had worked in tandem, as a team, tackling any problem, opportunity or situation that arose.
So now when he went to consult it for guidance, all he got was himself. Not that the animal could talk, but it could communicate in its own way, indicating approval or disapproval, urging him to do things or shying away from others. Now though, he was left with his conscience, and he was rapidly finding that it gave terrible, terrible advice.
Which is exactly why he expected that this beautiful woman in the stunning purple dress would blow him off, at best. At worst…well, he didn’t want to think of anything worse. Being rejected in front of everyone would be bad enough for his ego.
He reached up and tapped her gently on the delicate skin of her shoulder, admiring the faint bronzed tinge to it. It had the natural color acquired from being outdoors, not something she painted on, or been born with.
A faint shock leapt out from his fingertip and into her skin, making her spin probably faster than she would, looking down at her shoulder in consternation and then up at him, brown eyes flashing with a fire at being interrupted.
Oh shit. He’d known it was a bad idea. Known it from the start. Somehow he’d still found his way across the floor, the first shifter to risk her wrath. From the beginning he like every other shifter in there had sensed the off-putting vibe she’d been exuding, making it very clear she’d not wanted to be interrupted, talked to, or worst of all, what he was about to do, asking her to dance.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone bordering on that of rude, but maintaining just a smidgen of politeness to offset it.
Yep, not interested at all.
“Yes,” he replied, feeling his ego, confidence, and competitive spirit solidify and harden under her attack.
No, she wasn’t going to brush him off that easily. He wasn’t going to force her into anything, but neither was he about to back down. Whoever she was, she’d come to the ball, which meant deep down, on some level, she’d be okay with him approaching her. Okay, maybe not him, but somebody, and nobody else had had the guts yet, so why not him? Besides, she’d also put effort into her appearance. Gorgeous auburn hair fell down her back in long spiraled locks, ending just below her shoulder blades. Makeup, faint and yet subtly bold, graced the curves of her face. Around her eyes it darkened just a bit, accentuating her catlike brown circles.
“And how is that?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to make small talk for a few minutes while you finish your drink and digest your food. Then, after that has concluded, I’d like to guide you about the dance floor in a routine that I know intricately and you not at all, but that we’ll somehow manage to come together to make look graceful. After that, we get to my real goal, which—”
“Listen, I’m flattered, but it takes more than a dance to get me into bed with you,” she interrupted.
“—is to return here and gorge ourselves on some more food,” he finished as if she hadn’t spoken at all.
Her face turned from dismissive, well, he hated to use the word bitch, but it was an apt description, to shock, to bright pink with embarrassment.
“Oh,” she said.
“I’m Harden,” he said. “Harden Archer.” He might not get much more out of her, but she at least owed him her name now, for making such a rude assumption about his intent.
“Erika Rey,” she said, taking his hand. “Sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I guess. But you should know, Erika Rey, that most of the shifters here—in fact I’d say the large majority—would be more in line with my interests than your assumptions. Don’t get me wrong…we love sex, and you are gorgeous, but our society isn’t quite as liberal about it as yours. Not on a night like tonight, at least. Tonight is about finding that someone.”
“A mate,” she said, supplying the word for him.
“Yes. A mate,” he admitted. “It’s unlikely, a long shot really, but with so many women in one room, it’s likely that some of us will find that connection. If so, who knows where it may lead. But you can rest easy that most of us are interested in more than a night with you.”
She looked flustered, and he took pity on her.
“So can I use your embarrassment and regret to guilt you into a dance and some food?” he asked, smiling widely to let her know he was just teasing.
Erika considered his question for several long moments, clearly taking the time to evaluate her. So Harden did the same back to her. From up close she was even more gorgeous than he’d thought. A round face was highlighted by the thin reddish-brown hair, several tresses falling in front of her shoulders as well. Freckles dotted her face, combined with the slight bronze tinge to what he assumed was normally pale skin giving her a beautiful fresh look that she’d seen fit not to cover up with pounds of makeup.
The dress hid what he figured to be rather shapely legs, from what he’d seen as she’d walked over. Her stomach wasn’t flat, nor was it swollen with pregnancy, hovering somewhere in between. The hemline wasn’t cleavage-baring, though it was tight enough that he could see the curves of her breasts underneath. It was the bared shoulder that caught his attention most, a tantalizing bit of skin that seemed so ordinary, until attention was brought to it. Harden had meant what he said when he’d told her that he was interested in more than just a romp in the sheets, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in that as well. She was seductively gorgeous in an alluring, almost classic way.
Whatever it was, it was driving him crazy, and he didn’t even know if she was going to give him a chance yet. Her eyes came alive at last, the light of a decision reflected in them. Harden braced himself, knowing that no matter what she said, he would be polite and respect that decision.
“One dance,” she said. “Don’t try to push it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he all but purred, extending his hand, trying to contain his jubilation.
“Right,” she snorted. “And I’m Santa Claus.”
Harden just grinned. He liked her. “So that’s a yes then?”
Erika smiled, and he knew he had her. For one dance at least.
“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” she said, lifting her hand and placing it in his outstretched palm.
“I’m not big on rushing things,” he quipped, guiding her toward the dance floor.
“Let me guess, you are big on puns,” she returned dryly.
“Well, big on something,” he said with a grin as they reached the dance floor.
Erika groaned, but she didn’t resist as he gently spun her to face him, placing his hand on her hip and holding the other out to the side. The music was just winding down from one song, so they gently swayed together while waiting for the next tune to pick up. He tried not to give away the fact that his heart was jumping, threatening to give out on him.
Relax. You know how to dance. You’re decent at it. Stop freaking out. She said yes to the dance, which is a miracle in itself. Just enjoy it, and don’t make a fool of yourself. Also, don’t trip.
One time. One measly time he’d tripped while still much younger and coming to terms with his sudden growth spurt and awkwardly large new body. The girl he’d been with hadn’t even laughed, though she’d smiled. Yet all these years later, and his brain still chose to remind him, making him cringe at the memory.
Thanks brain.
The band began to play, plucking at strings of their various instruments, and a slow, almost haunting melody drifted out over the crowd. After so many upbeat songs in a row, it was time to slow it down. So he gently swayed with Erika, trying desperately to think of something to say, while enjoying the delicate touch of her hand on his shoulder, or the soft skin of her hand that he held.
“I’m disappointed,” she said.
“What?” Why? Why would she be disappointed? What had gone wrong? Harden thought furiously, trying to think of what had happened, where he’d misstepped.
“I was actually looking forward to doing one of those faster ones, where you have to lift me and basically carry me around the floor,” she said.
He grinned. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to find it within yourself to stick around for a second dance then, won’t you?”
Erika’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, but after a second they softened and she smiled. “Maybe. You’ve managed to keep your hand at a proper level on my back, which is a good sign in my books.”
Harden almost snorted, but then changed it into something a little more restrained, simply blowing air from his mouth slowly. “I’ve got more respect for you than that,” he replied.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” she shot back, not so much an accusation but as a statement.
“Erika Rey, you are the most beautiful woman here. Of course I want to slip my hand lower. But most of the people here are good people, who will respect your boundaries. I’m not sure why you think so little of so many of us, but I promise you, the majority are good, decent men.”
She arched a single eyebrow, a skill he’d never been able to manage, awakening a sliver of jealousy within him.
“Do you know these people then?” she asked. “Can you vouch for them?”
“Ah, no,” he admitted. “In fact, I know almost none of them, truth be told.”
“Really? But don’t you all come from Cadia?”
He nodded cautiously, not sure he wanted to get into his backstory yet. Maybe later. It wasn’t exactly polite dinner conversation. A lot of the things he’d done were…less than honorable. “Yes,” he answered at last. “But, Cadia’s a big place.”
It wasn’t a flat out lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. It would have to do, until he decided to tell her about him or not.
“So then you don’t know if they’ll respect me or not.”
“I know shifters though,” he said. “And you’ll be okay.”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry you’re so jaded about us.”
“I’ve had a bit of a bad experience,” she said slowly. “So, it might take a while before I open up.”
Harden declined to pry further. There would be time later to delve into each other’s lives, if things went well. For now, he focused on the dance, extending his arm with her hand in it out and above her head, gently spinning her around. Erika made a delighted noise that went straight to his heart, buoying his spirits and spurring on a fresh feeling of giddiness about dancing with her.
As he stepped close to her and pulled her in once more, the music transitioned, slowly picking up the beat as the musicians excellently moved from one song to the other, a much livelier tune that he knew all the formal steps to.
“Ready?” he asked, and then lifted her from her feet without waiting as the first beats hit and the dance began. They spun around in a half circle where he lowered her to the ground, thoroughly enamored with the sheer joy displayed on her face, a far cry from mild glower she’d had before he’d approached her. Maybe he could ensure she enjoyed the night after all.
The song went on, all twirls, lifts, spins, and dips and a few other complicated maneuvers that relied entirely on him basically forcing her through it. Erika picked it up as she went though, and by the end she was moving with him, instead of him moving her. He would call out the next move to her, and they would flow through together. Several other pairs had pushed back and a small crowd was watching them by the time the music drew down.
Polite claps from at least half a dozen pairs were directed their way, and he made sure that they bowed and curtsied for their “fans” before heading off the floor.
“Phew,” she said, wiping her brow as their chests rose and fell, almost as much with excitement as exertion. “That was fun!”
He grinned. “Shall we get some water, some food, and then do it again?”
“Did you just ask me to a second dance?”
“Well, to be technical, actually it would be the third da…nce,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
“Too bad I don’t play by the rules there,” she said with a laugh. “Third dance, but still the first date, mister,” she told him, picking her finger into his chest. “But, you bought yourself a third one by saying the magic word.”
He frowned. “You know, I don’t recall actually saying please,” he admitted.
Erika swatted at his arm affectionately. “No, you didn’t. But I’m pregnant, and those words change when you are.”
It was obvious that she’d thrown the fact that she was pregnant out there to ensure that he knew, though every woman who’d arrived tonight was at some stage of pregnancy or another. Harden had known that coming in, having thought long and hard about it. The idea of being a father didn’t scare him. Not in the slightest. True, he’d always envisioned that the first child he called his would also be his genetically, but this was a unique situation.
All these human women had been roped in by an agency and lied to. They’d thought they were helping shifters, giving them a chance to survive and prosper. In reality they’d been designed simply to breed half-breeds, humans with enhanced qualities, who couldn’t actually shift.
When the shifters had brought down the Institute, as it had been called, they had found almost three hundred women in various stages of pregnancy, who now had nowhere to go. The Institute had said they were going to take care of them. So, Cadia had stepped in and said it would pay for them. The shifters had opened their vast coffers, pooling their resources and manpower together to create shelters and programs to help ensure each woman would be well cared for during and after her pregnancy.
The cooperation that had gone into such an undertaking still astounded Harden, even if he’d heard about it while recuperating from the torture he’d undergone at the hands of the Institute. Some things didn’t dull with time, and this was one of them. It was why he’d come, in the end. Both he and these women had suffered from the same organization. Perhaps there was a bit of fate in such a union, he didn’t know. Whatever it was, he didn’t care that she was with a child that wasn’t his own. No, the fact that he wasn’t sure he was the right type of person to be a father was his main concern. But he wasn’t ready to think about that right then and there.
“I must confess to not knowing pregnant human female magic words,” he admitted with a smile, letting her know he was aware of her condition. “I’ll be sure to read up on them for next time, but for now, could you perhaps humor me?”
“Food,” she said, making a beeline for the food tables, not waiting for him or even looking over her shoulder to see if he was coming.
Harden laughed and plunged into the crowd after her. She was fairly easy to follow, her purple dress shimmering and entrancing him, pulling him toward her. Erika was one interesting woman, he thought. They reached the tables, and he snagged a plate for both of them, handing her one so she could pile food on it instead of just eating it right from the tables.
“Manners,” he chided, earning him a mixed smile/glare, a look he wasn’t sure he could ever duplicate no matter how hard he tried.
“Thank you,” she said with exaggerated politeness, taking the plate from him.
The grin he felt coming died as he looked down the long lines of food tables at a pair of eyes that were staring at him intently, filled with a hatred he couldn’t understand.
“Erika,” he said, trying to keep his tone calm. “I’ll be right back. Just have to use the men’s room. Don’t dine and dash on me,” he joked.
She looked up with a mouthful of food and just shrugged and pointed roughly at the food tables. He got the message. I’ll be right around here. Nodding, he drifted off. The eyes noticed him coming, and they darted around the corner.
Harden didn’t slow down. He sped up. The eyes were ones he’d recognize anywhere. They belonged to the same asshole who’d tried to jump him earlier.
His fingers flexed as anger surged through him.