That’s when it hits me—the signs I’d been ignoring all evening.
A warmth blooming low in my belly, the heightening of my senses, a sudden hyper-awareness of Percy’s scent—sandalwood and ink and male.
No. Not now. Not here.
My heat cycle, arriving four days early and with spectacularly bad timing.
Biology doesn't care about your politics, your pride, or your five-year plan.
Percy’s nostrils flare, and his pupils dilate.
He knows.
“Are you alright, Ruby?” His voice drops an octave, the concern in it seemingly genuine.
“Fine,” I lie, taking a deliberate step back. “Just warm. I should go.”
He follows, closing the distance I tried to create. “Your scent changed.”
“That’s not an appropriate observation,” I say, willing my biology to behave itself.
“Appropriate?” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through me like distant thunder. “We’re past that, I think. You’re in heat.” There is a tenderness and a hint of concern in his voice.
I should slap him. Report him to the event security for harassment. Storm away in righteous indignation.
Instead, I stand frozen, my body betraying me with each passing second.
“This doesn’t change anything about Wolfstone.”
“Of course not.” He has the audacity to look amused. “But it might make our negotiations more… interesting.”
“There will be no ‘negotiations’ of the kind you’re implying,” I say, even as my traitor body leans imperceptibly closer to him.
Percy’s smile is slow and knowing.
“I’m implying nothing. Simply observing that we both might benefit from continued conversation in a more comfortable setting. Our penthouse has an excellent view of the city’s planning model, including Wolfstone. I could show you exactly what we’re proposing.”
It’s the thinnest pretense I’ve ever heard. We both know what he’s really offering. What’s worse, we both know I’m tempted.
“Your brothers—” I begin.
“Are heading out of town after the gala and won’t be back until tomorrow.” His gaze is steady on mine. “Just me, you, and a scale model of disputed territory. Completely professional.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity. “Professional.”
“Unless you’d prefer otherwise.” His voice is silk wrapped around gravel, and my resistance is crumbling by the second.
I should say no.
Every rational part of my brain is screaming to get out of here, to put as much distance between myself and Percy Porkwell as possible.
I hate these males. Hate his brothers. Hate what they’ve done to our community.
But my heat-addled body has other ideas, and the wolf in me—the primal, instinctual part—is already deciding this mighty, powerful male is exactly what I need tonight.
“Show me this model, then,” I hear myself say. “But I’m not agreeing to anything beyond that.”
His smile widens, showing the full, impressive length of those tusks. “Of course not. My car’s waiting downstairs.”
