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Etienne sat back in his chair, not bothering to hide the grin that curled his mouth. His pack would shout and howl at such fortune. And, truly, the task of guarding the portal would be minimal. It would not disrupt their lives, and he shouldn’t think those who worked enforcement would have to be tasked for the job.
He nodded decisively. “Yes, I agree. On behalf of pack Valoir, I accept the bargain issued by your king, Malrick.”
“Excellent. And know, because of the unique nature of this agreement, my king requests a specific requirement to sealing said contract and to make it binding.”
“Uh... Oh, oh, yes.” Twining his fingers together, Etienne leaned forward. “What exactly is required?”
“It won’t tax your pack, I promise. In fact, it will only require the compliance of one pack member of your choosing.”
Damned faeries were all about ceremony and pomp. And Etienne suspected that one pack member would not like what the harpie next requested. But if it would allow the entire pack to hunt freely? Sacrifices must be made for the good of the pack.
* * *
When the door had opened to let out the visitor, Jacques and Kir shuffled down the hallway. They watched her walk by, and just when they thought the coast was clear to slip around the corner and out of the back door, Etienne called out to Kir.
Damned werewolf senses. No wolf could hide from another’s sense of smell. Jacques nodded to him that he’d see him later.
With the office door closed behind him, Kir waited with hands stuffed in his back pockets.
Etienne paced over to a window that overlooked the Seine in the 16th arrondissement. “You drew the short stick,” he said to Kir.
“I wasn’t aware there was a drawing, Principal Montfort,” Kir said lightly. “What nasty task have I been assigned today?”
“This weekend, actually.” The leader steepled his fingers before his lips. Pale brown eyes assessed. “Sunday. In the forest edging Versailles, where the pack often celebrates midsummer’s eve. Malrick, king of the Unseelie court—”
“A faery?”
“Yes. I’ve just finished speaking with a liaison he sent with a most exciting offer that will benefit the entire pack.”
“You’re bargaining with the sidhe now? Do you think that wise?”
“Of course, if it will grant us access to Faery for hunting.”
Kir’s jaw dropped open. So his guess had been right. Etienne had actually managed to snag hunting rights in Faery!
“That’s a generous offer,” Kir said. “What did you have to offer in return?”
“Kirnan, this deal affects the whole pack.” The sudden serious tone in Etienne’s voice alerted Kir. His principal saved that dour bass tone for announcing bad news or chastising those in need of an attitude adjustment. “Seems Malrick is concerned about a portal from this realm into Faery,” Etienne explained. “It’s been cracked by common humans, and the Unseelie are experiencing an influx of the idiots landing in Faery. He wants our pack to guard the portal until the proper magical spell can be conjured to close it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not sure. Could be weeks, months. Hell, the way the time is screwy in Faery, it could be years. It is a minimal task, according to the liaison with whom I spoke. And we’ve the manpower. I expect you and Jacques will not be required to hold post, since you both have the enforcing that keeps you busy.”
“The enforcement team is solid. If you should need one or the other of us, I’m sure we could manage a day now and then.”
“Good to know. So in exchange for us guarding the portal—a simple task that will require one-man shifts round the clock—our pack gets to hunt in Faery. In an orderly and scheduled fashion, of course. Malrick doesn’t want the entire pack running loose in his realm, but a few wolves during the days preceding and of the full moon will be tolerated.”
“Of course, you accepted this offer?”
“I would have been foolish not to!” The principal’s enthusiasm spilled out in a gleeful clap of hands.
And Kir was right there with him with the enthusiasm. Until he recalled what Etienne had said to him when he’d entered the office. “So where do I come in holding this short stick?”
The principal’s demeanor drew to a solemn yet regal stance. An uneasy feeling trickled up the back of Kir’s neck. Etienne was a kind, elder wolf who rarely used aggression or faced down his pack members to keep them in line. He left that to his scion, Jacques, who took to such tasks with relish. Yet he sensed in the man now a certain dire reluctance.
“The sidhe have ceremonious ways to seal bargains. Something we merely consider good fortune may be considered a grand boon to them. And the liaison pointed out that this is a unique bargain that must be honored. So to seal this pact, Malrick proposes to offer one of his daughters to marry one from our pack. The couple will bond, thus providing the final seal to the deal.”
“A marriage? That’s...extreme.”
“Not for the sidhe. Their bonding rituals, which are elaborate and varied, are the stamp of approval, so to speak, for such an extraordinary bargain. Either that, or they request a life sacrificed or one of our firstborn. You know how the sidhe can be.”
No, he did not. As he’d indicated to Jacques earlier, Kir hadn’t much contact with the winged ones. Marriage seemed a bit much to ask. On the other hand, a sacrifice or handing over one’s firstborn seemed more extreme.
The poor wolf who had to step forward to marry some faery he’d never seen before would certainly not like it.
Kir met his principal’s hopeful gaze. His leader was pleased to have scored such a propitious arrangement for the pack. Indeed, it was a valued prize—but a marriage?
“Sunday,” Etienne said. “You will be ready for a day of ceremony and pomp.”
“Of course.” Likely the entire pack would have to don suits and pin on tiny flowers or whatever it was wedding parties were required to wear. He could deal with that.
“You’re taking this rather well. Good man, Kirnan. Good man.”
“Whatever details you need me to arrange, I’ll see to them. I assume that’s what you intended when you said I drew that short stick?” He smiled, but his leader only matched it with a shake of his head. And an imploring lift of brow. “Wait.”
The more he thought about it... If he had drawn the short stick...
Kir’s heart stopped beating for a full three seconds. He swallowed, flexed his fingers at his sides and then croaked out, “You mean me?”
Etienne nodded. “We went down the chain of command. I, of course, am happily married to my beloved Estella. Eighty years and counting. And my son and the pack scion, Jacques, as you know, is engaged to sweet Marielle. So the task falls to the third in command.”
Kir spoke before thinking. “Oh, hell no.” Now that he understood he was the unlucky sap, he smacked a fist into a palm and paced before Etienne’s desk.
“It must be done, Kir. You are young. You have no current romantic entanglements.”
Not for lack of want. A guy didn’t need to be in love to have a good time.
“You are an excellent offering.”
“An offering?” Kir winced at the word. It sounded so...sacrificial. A burn of bile stirred in his throat.
“I shouldn’t have put it that way,” Etienne added.
“I can’t marry a woman I don’t know. Principal Montfort, when I do marry I want to marry for love.”
“Are there any females in the pack whom you desire?”
“No, I—” Kir shoved his fingers roughly through his hair. “As you’ve said, I’m young yet. Twenty-eight years is but a pup in a werewolf’s lifetime. I have never given thought to marriage. Well, hell, yes, I have. I do want family and a happily-ever-after. But I want to date freely until I’ve met the one.”
“The one.” Etienne smirked. “Estella and I were an arranged marriage. Do not rule out the possibility of an interesting match, Kirnan.”
“Interesting?” The word felt vile on his tongue. Interesting was not love. “You and your wife are an amazing couple, Principal Montfort. But I’m not like you. Not patient or, apparently, so accepting.”
And, hell, his dad had screwed up his marriage; what made Kir think he could manage a loving family without an eventual nasty divorce? And abandoning the children to scar them forever?
“I’ve my work with the enforcement team that keeps me busy,” Kir tried. “I don’t have time to dote on a wife and...do the things a husband needs to do.”
Like what, exactly? He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to know! Not...this way.
“Isn’t there another wolf in the pack with equal standing?”
Etienne shook his head. “It would shame Valoir were we to offer a male who had not an esteemed rank. You are the highest ranked wolf who is available. Please, Kir, I’m asking you to do this as a favor. I’m not commanding you.”
Pacing before the window, Kir’s brain zoomed from standing at a dais and getting a first look at a woman he must vow to shelter and love forever to running away from the pack, becoming a lone wolf, free—yet forever ostracized and alone. Like his father.
He didn’t want to repeat the sins of his father.
“She will be one of the Unseelie king’s daughters,” Etienne added with a hopeful lilt.
One of them? How many daughters had he that the man could deal one out as a seal to the many bargains he may make?
“Our breed gets along well with the sidhe,” Etienne tried. “Er, regarding when it comes to mating. And faeries are very often quite lovely. I don’t think you should worry about how she looks. And I have heard that wings can be quite—”
Kir put up a hand to silence his principal. He needed to think about this. Sunday was two days away. He was captain of the enforcement team, alongside Jacques, who was the lieutenant. His job required he police the wolf packs in Paris, and it kept him busy much as a nine-to-five job would.
He didn’t need a wife. He wouldn’t know what to do with a wife. If his own family’s history was any example—well, that was it; his family was no example of how to live and love in a happy, healthy relationship.
Kir wasn’t prepared to welcome a woman into his home. Nor did he want to stop looking at other women. He didn’t want to stop having sex with other women. What must that be like to sleep with only one woman? For the rest of his life? And to be castigated by a wife for looking at another woman?
Heart pounding, he caught his palm against his chest.
“So it’s agreed, then,” Etienne finally said. “The ceremony is scheduled to begin at twilight. I’ll have my wife arrange all the necessary suits and whatever else is needed. All that wedding frippery, you know. You’re a good man, Kirnan. Thanks for doing this for pack Valoir. I’ve got to rush out now.”
Etienne walked Kir to the door and down the hall to the front door of the nondescript concrete building the pack used as a headquarters. The principal flagged down his driver, who waited at the curb, and, with a wave, was off, leaving Kir standing on the sidewalk, hands hanging at his sides and jaw dropped open.
Married in two days? To a woman he’d never met.
Kir felt like the last one standing on the gym floor after all the rest had been chosen for sides. And he was the odd man out, not needed for either team, both of which stood on the sidelines laughing and pointing at him.
And, to make matters worse, he had no one to confide in, no one to ask for guidance. His father he had not seen for a decade. His younger sister, Blyss—it had been years since she had been estranged from the pack. They spoke on the phone because she summered in the United States with her new husband. But she wouldn’t be interested in his dilemma. She had just given birth to a new baby and was busy with life and marriage.
That left his mother, Madeline, whom he tolerated and begrudgingly respected at best.
“Married?” he muttered.
The clenching in his chest seized up his breath and he gripped his throat.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_5a113871-32a8-5457-835e-5ebdb4ad03d4)
The forest shivered with a warm midsummer breeze that seemed to sing in a language Kir recognized but could not interpret. It was a joyous sound, which helped to settle his crazy nerves. Overhead, thousands of tiny lights darted within the tree canopy. Faeries. Kir was surrounded by his pack and all sorts of sidhe. Jacques stood at his right side, shrugging his shoulders within the tight fit of the rental suit. The scion’s attention also wandered high to follow the flickering lights.
The woods had glowed from afar as pack Valoir had arrived en masse. A stage set for a performance, waiting for him, one of the main players. Faeries had clasped Kir’s hand and bowed to him, greeting, acknowledging, surmising. He’d not been introduced to the Unseelie king and wasn’t sure the man was even here. Etienne had briefly introduced Kir to Brit, the harpie who had brought the deal to the table. She’d been stunning in a silver sheath that had revealed more than it hid.
But it had all been a whirlwind since he’d arrived. Dozens of strange and interesting faces, elaborate and glamorous clothing and costume, delicious peach wine and tiny cakes that tasted either sweet or savory but was always too small to satisfy his fierce appetite. And the greetings and silent perusals. He hadn’t had time to think in the few hours that had passed since his arrival.
Or to escape.
And now he stood, knees locked and fingers flexing nervously at his sides. The suit was tight across his shoulders and it was hot. He wanted to scratch at the starched shirt collar but wasn’t sure his fingers could perform the move because they felt so far away and detached from his body.
Kir couldn’t concentrate on the words the officiant spoke because beside him stood her. The woman soon to be named his wife. And after that they would dance and drink, and, well, he’d heard there was a honeymoon cabin erected not far from here.
Something sweet, like flowers or fruit, or maybe even sugared fruit topped with flowers, tickled his nostrils. The petite woman who stood beside him, the crown of her head below his shoulders, smelled like dessert.
He did like dessert.
He didn’t want to like her. Because that would mean he was cool with this stupid agreement. One that stuck him with a woman he didn’t know or want.
For the rest of his life.
Werewolves could live three centuries or more. That was a hell of a long time to spend with one woman. Especially a woman he had not chosen.
He wanted to look down—the top of her head was capped with flowers and fluttery butterflies that seemed to hold the veil in place—but he dared not make the blatant once-over with the audience behind him. He’d remain stoic and say all the right things. His pack was watching. He was doing this for them. They had better appreciate his sacrifice.
The ceremony officiant rambled on about loving the other until death did part them and enduring magic most vile and exquisite through eternity.
Vile magic? What the...?
Kir closed his eyes. His heart did a weird dive and then free-fell within his rib cage. It didn’t land with a splat, though, because something distracted his imaginary death-dive. She smelled really good. His mouth actually watered, and he cursed inwardly for not having eaten all day. Too nervous.
There would be food later. And drink.
There was not enough whiskey in this realm to get him to the point where he could accept this situation.
Behind him, he felt the gentle sweep of wings as the woman beside him shifted on her feet. As she’d walked down the aisle, she had worn a long sheer pink veil over her head that fell over her body and to her bare feet. Her feet were decorated with bright arabesque violet designs, like some kind of mehndi artwork. Her wings were unfurled to display gorgeous violet and red gossamer with darker shading in the veins. Her hair was dark. He could see that much beneath the veil. But he could not determine if she was pretty.
They’d wrapped her up as if she were a gift, and he didn’t like it.
Suddenly feeling as though he was forgetting something important, Kir lifted his chin and focused as the officiant announced the twosome had been joined in matrimony by the authority of the Unseelie court. And later they must seal that promise by bonding.
What a way to start a marriage.
When he had, at the last minute, thought he’d need to buy a ring for his new bride, the liaison harpie, who had arrived early to ensure the details had been handled properly, stated rings were an offense. Mortal metals must never be worn by the sidhe. All that was required was that the two bond as Faery decreed.
A ring would have been so much easier.
“Join hands,” the officiant announced. “And bind yourselves to one another.”
What? Right here? The bonding? Kir looked over his shoulder and caught Etienne’s eye. The elder wolf nodded. And beside him stood his mother, Madeline, with a tear in her eye.
