Crystal Jordan

What the hell had I been thinking? This was like some kind of sick, twisted joke. I’d walked Stephen, Michael, and Candy into the airport for our little kiss and cry time, said good-bye, and been on my way out when one of the flat screen TVs they had constantly playing the news flashed my picture. That wasn’t completely unheard of, especially if they were discussing Stephen’s world tour, but the words that scrolled underneath my photo made my mind whirl.

Local werewolf Alpha finds his mate, music producer, Pixie Parthon.

More words went by, and Malcon’s picture flashed beside mine, but I’d seen all I wanted. More than I wanted, in fact. I was no one’s mate. I didn’t even want to get married. A few people turned to look from me to the screen and back again, so I spun on my heel and walked back out to the parking garage, growing angrier and angrier by the moment. Why would Malcon release a statement like that to the press? This was ridiculous. I slammed into my car as a thought made ice water flow through my veins. Malcon had bitten me last night. Not unusual when fucking a fanged race, but those bites didn’t leave a scar like a mate mark would. My hand shook as I flipped down the mirror on my sun visor and pushed my hair back to see the side of my neck.

There was a scar. He’d marked me. Rage exploded inside me and I closed my eyes, letting my hair fall back into place. There was no way in fucking hell that I was going to give up my hard earned independence to be the queen of the wolves. And it was really sweet of him to mention he thought we were mated when he asked me to dinner. Thanks so much, jackass. I revved the engine on my car, left the parking lot in the dust, and was a block away from Malcon’s office before I realized where I was going.

I still hadn’t managed to quell my anger. Oh, well. He was going to get it now.

Fifteen minutes later, my three inch heels pounded a staccato beat on the marble floor of the huge building that housed the international organization owned by the wolf pack. It was a good thing I was wearing my usual backless blouse today because I was so pissed I couldn’t have kept my wings in if I tried. The air crackled around me as I moved, and everyone in the vicinity either turned to stare at me or jumped out of my way. I somehow doubted I’d have that kind of effect on the Alpha, which just pissed me off even more. The wolf would be lucky if he didn’t come out of this neutered.

A bony woman leaped to her feet when I entered the reception area of the pack leader headquarters. Her welcoming smile deflated when she got a good look at my face. “Ms. Parthon! What a surprise. Can I–”

I heard the low, sexy timbre of Malcon’s voice coming through an open doorway and I walked toward it. The receptionist gasped and babbled some protest, but I ignored her. I was not giving Malcon a chance to refuse to see me. He was dealing with me right now. Period.

Storming into the room, I didn’t even pause when I saw a huge meeting was taking place. Men ringed a long conference table with Malcon at its head. He had a look of calm control that just reminded me how out of control I felt, which did nothing to improve my mood.

“Pixie.” He was on his feet the moment he spotted me and every other person in the room leapt to follow suit. His gaze cut to the woman trailing in behind me. “It’s all right, Martha.” His gaze moved back to me. “What can I do for you?”

I tilted my head to the side, widened my eyes, and propped my hand on a cocked hip. “Gee, I don’t know, but did you hear the local werewolf Alpha was mated last night? I saw it on the news. I just wanted to come down and congratulate you.”

And that’s when it hit him just how pissed I was. I watched the realization flash in his eyes, but not a flicker of emotion crossed his otherwise contained expression. He looked at me while he addressed everyone else. “Gentlemen, give us the room. Now.”

I’d never seen werewolves scatter and scurry so fast in my life. It would have been more satisfying if it hadn’t been Malcon who made it happen.

He sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and pressing them to his lips as he regarded me for a long moment. I thought a small smile quirked his lips, but it was gone so fast I couldn’t be sure. “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

“What can I say?” My smile was saccharine enough to send him into sugar shock, and I gave a delicate shrug. “I’m in show business.”

He sighed and dropped his palms to the table in front of him. “I’m uncertain why you’re upset about our mating. Want to give me a hint?”

“I had to find out about it on the news, Malcon!” I threw up my hands and started pacing back and forth in front of the table. My wings swished every time I turned. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Why are you surprised? I asked you before I bit you.” Standing, he approached my end of the table cautiously, as if I were some kind of rabid animal.

I snorted and folded my arms, which drew his dark gaze to my breasts. “I’ve been bitten by werewolves and vampires during sex before.”

His eyes closed as awful realization crossed his handsome face. He swallowed hard. “You don’t need to be having sex for a mate bite to work. It’s not like a regular bite anyway. It’s a magical marking.”

“I got that when I saw the scar on my neck. That was definitely not something I’ve had before.” Like a magical STD I’d never be able to get rid of. I nearly snarled at the thought. He had no right to rope me into something like this. Being wolf queen had a million strings attached, and I’d only bee looking for a one-nighter. How had this happened? “This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up any moment, I know it.”

He sighed and opened his eyes again. “I thought you were willing, but…we are mated.”

“According to you and your kind, maybe. Not to me and mine.”