Mate.
The word echoed through my skull. My wolf clawed at my control, demanding I claim what was ours, that I mark her with my scent until no one could doubt who she belonged to.
“Shut up,” I snapped.
Victoria’s eyebrows lifted, and she shoved her veil off her pretty face. “Excuse me?”
Such high cheekbones. And thick, long dark hair I ached to thrust my face into. I wanted to wrap it around my hand and drag her close.
Kiss her.
I clenched my jaw harder. The scent of magic and flowers filled my lungs, but underneath I found her. Pure Victoria. Intelligent and fierce and utterly unbothered by the predator looming over her bed.
That only made the craving worse.
My breathing grew heavy, each inhale bringing more of her scent, more fuel for the fire I was trying to douse. The bond hummed between us, wrapping around my ribs in iron bands.
I wanted to crawl onto that bed and bury my face in her neck and taste her skin, feel her pulse jump against my tongue.
Instead, I spun on my heel and stalked across the big room and out onto the enormous balcony.
The cool air hit my face, but it did nothing to reduce the heat burning through my veins. Below, the canopy spread out in waves of every color imaginable. My kingdom. My territory. The responsibility I’d carried since my father died, and I had to step into the alpha role at nineteen.
“Strategic marriage,” I muttered under my breath. “Duty. Border alliances.”
The words tasted bitter.
Victoria climbed off the bed, smoothing her wedding dress. She removed her veil, laying it across the chair with the same careful attention she’d probably give to arranging her laboratory equipment.
She didn’t appear nervous or upset or even dismayed.
My growl rumbled through my chest.
She glanced at me, completely unfazed, and crossed to the door as frantic scratching sounded from the other side.
The squirrel burst in the moment she opened it, chittering with what I could only interpret as indignation. It scrambled up her skirt and perched on her shoulder, still complaining.
“I know,” she told it. “That was very rude of him.”
I turned back to the forest, gripping the railing. The wood creaked under my fingers.
“We need ground rules,” I said as she joined me on the balcony.
“You’re right.”
Her calm agreement set my teeth on edge. I pivoted to face her, crossing my arms on my chest. “Stay out of my way.”
“Whose way would I be in?”
“Don’t interfere with pack business.”
“I wouldn’t know how to interfere even if I wanted to.” She tilted her head, studying me the way she probably studied her experiments. “What constitutes pack business exactly? Do meal preparations count? Social gatherings? Or are you referring specifically to territorial disputes and hierarchy challenges?”
The intelligent questions caught me off guard. Most people cowered when I used this tone. She just wanted information.
“Territorial disputes. Hunt organization. Anything involving pack dynamics or security.”
“And the shifting sickness someone mentioned prior to the ceremony? Would attempting to research a cure fall under interference?”
