Sarah
Sydney holds open the garage door for me, silently, and I step inside. He turns on a light switch. Light spills over the large space. Stupid, menial things I shouldn’t be paying attention to come into focus.
I’m counting each breath I take and each movement he makes in the short amount of time we’ve been together tonight. I make note of the way his freshly polished, fancy shoes sound on the concrete floor, the way his watch catches the fluorescent light overhead as he reaches for a large garment bag laying over the washer and dryer, and how his eyes light up again as he glances at me before opening it.
That roaring in my ears has to be my heartbeat; otherwise, Sydney has some serious issues with the furnace on the far side of the room.
He turns toward me, discarding the garment bag back onto the washing machine, and holds open the most luxurious fur coat I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
My mouth goes dry as I scan the pure white fur and creamy silk interior.
“Is that for me?”
“I was actually planning on wearing it,” he says, smirking. “You can borrow a coat if you need one, though.”
Don’t laugh, Sarah. Don’t even smile at him and his teasing….
The corners of my mouth twitch into a smile despite my best efforts to look neutral, maybe even bored.
Sydney shakes his head, smiling just as much as I am, “Come on. Try it on. If you hate it, you don’t have to wear it.”
“When you said Cosette was ordering me a coat, this isn’t what I had in mind.”
“That’s because Cosette had nothing to do with this. I just spent the last two hours tracking this down and had to buy it off some wealthy Alpha’s wife,” he tells me, helping me into the sleeves. “I literally stopped her in the street.”
It’s heavy and deliciously warm. I hug myself, trying not to whimper at how wonderful it feels.
“You’re joking,” I say, twirling. “What kind of fur is it?”
He brushes past me to open the passenger side door of his truck for me. “Let’s just say you shouldn’t make an enemy out of the Alpha of Thornbrook.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever curt or equally teasing reply I had in mind vanishes the moment he shuts my door and climbs in the driver's seat, and then we’re off, the lights of the house falling behind us in a dizzying onslaught of snow.
Music plays softly on the radio, but the drive is mostly silent. Sydney makes a few comments when we pass through certain pack territories, describing the Alphas who rule there, and some quiet memories of what this place used to look like when he was a child.
Crescent Falls has grown so much in the last two decades, but especially the past ten years. Crescent City has boomed, and now the capital of the kingdom is a sprawling metropolis that stretches as far as the eye can see.
But the city fades into the distance as we start driving back uphill, and soon the botanical garden comes into view.
Traffic slows to a crawl, but my heart starts to race again.
“You okay?”
“Honestly,” I whisper over the music, swallowing hard. “Why didn’t you take someone more… I don’t know, royal?”
Sydney taps his fingers on the steering wheel, staring ahead at the tail lights turning the falling snow a soft pinkish-red. “Like who?”
I think of the daughters of the Alphas around Crescent Falls who are essentially celebrities; princesses in their own right. Beautiful, talented, well-educated and filthy, filthy rich.
I have nothing to my name. Absolutely nothing.
“Like Mirabella Ashcroft,” I say, glancing at him.
“The daughter of the Alpha of Crescent City?” Sydney asks, lifting a brow. “Have you ever met her?”
“No, of course not!”
“You wouldn’t like her if you did,” he laughs.
“I bet she likes you, though.” I shift in my seat to face him. “That’s all the tabloids talk about. Which Alpha’s daughter is the heir of Crescent Falls going to choose as his bride? Which one is his mate?”
“Because my mate can’t be someone common,” he adds with a wry smile that I match. “The Goddess would never allow it.”
“Never,” I agree, a bit tartly, but we’re smiling at each other again, and I feel my cheeks growing warm, which has nothing to do with the fur coat.
Once again, Sydney abruptly ends the line of conversation. He’s rather good at that.
It’s something we have in common.
In a matter of moments, he pulls the truck up to the steps of the botanical garden, where a valet rushes out to greet us. He opens the door, and I slowly get out of the truck.
“Ready?” Sydney asks, looping his arm around mine. I tell myself he did so to help steady me on the icy steps, but his proximity is overwhelming to every sense as I lean into his touch and let him guide me into the party.
The first thing I notice is the music. It’s lively and more hip to the times than I’d imagined. This isn’t some snotty, upper-echelon party where everyone is drinking champagne.
I watch a woman pass with a fruity cocktail and start to wonder if I’m wrong about the royal family as Sydney helps me out of my coat.
Then, I see the flowers.
“I told you everything was perfect,” he says, leaning down to brush the words over the edge of my ear.
He’s right. It is perfect. The staff who picked up the flowers this morning followed the written directions and blueprint I’d meticulously crafted and given to Cosette for safe keeping.
My heart’s in my throat as Sydney guides me deeper into the party. People stop to greet him, some bowing and giving him a generous amount of space, while others seem to know him better, clapping him on the shoulder and occasionally pulling him in for a hug.
He introduces me, telling everyone I was the one who did the flowers, and I’m sure my cheeks are the same deep shade of red as my lipstick by the time we’ve walked around nearly the entire garden.
But then I see her. The queen. And my heart nearly stops.
Queen Madeline is beautiful. That’s well known, of course. The whole kingdom loves her, practically worships the ground she walks on, and I understand why as she beelines for us.
Her wine-red hair is loose and falling over her shoulders in a perfect blow-out, and her stormy blue eyes–the same shape and shade as Sydney’s–are bright and excited as she takes Sydney’s hands and kisses him sloppily on the cheek.
He goes bright pink.
“Syd, I didn’t think you’d make it. They’re shutting down roads in Crescent City already. Apparently, it’s getting really bad out there.” She motions toward the snow piling on the glass dome all around us. “But I’m happy you’re here. Ryan is, too, and he brought a date.”
“Who?” Sydney asks, looking skeptical.
“Annabell something, I can never remember,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I guess she’s the daughter of the Beta of… Goddess, I can’t even remember her pack.”
Her eyes suddenly slide to mine.
I fight to swallow, unsure what to do.
I try to curtsey but the dress is far too tight.
“Oh, my Goddess, you must be Sarah!”
I’ve barely risen to my full height before I’m squished against the queen’s chest in a tight embrace.
“Mom, please,” Sydney says shortly.
“You did such a fabulous job. I’ve been at a loss for words all day. I thought–” She pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “I thought you’d throw a few centerpieces together and call it a day, but this is seriously something else. You are so talented!”
“Th-Thank you, Your Highness.”
The queen of Crescent Falls is touching me, looking into my eyes, with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face.
Because of me.
Suddenly, Sydney takes me by the elbow and says, “I’m going to get her something to drink.”
“Of course.” Queen Madeline beams at us both, but I notice the slightest arch of her brow as she looks at Sydney for just a moment longer than I expect. I can’t decipher the look she’s giving him, but he’s giving her a hard look right back, shaking his head ever so slightly.
Mind-link. That’s what they’re doing.
Before I can blink, he whirls me around and herds me toward the bar on the far side of the room.
“Are you okay? Your eyes practically rolled back in your head back there. I thought you were going to faint,” he growls, leaning down to brush the words over my cheek.
The motion sends a ripple of desire down my spine that makes me squeak in surprise. I shove it away, feeling suddenly too hot and cold all at once.
Someone bumps into me. Sydney places a hand on the small of my back to steady me, glaring at the drunken man wobbling away from us.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Water,” I tell him, my mouth dry for a multitude of reasons. What the hell is wrong with me right now?
He orders me a water and himself a glass of the finest scotch before quickly guiding me into a quiet corner of the garden where a small waterfall trickles into a pond full of fish.
The thrum of the music is only a slight vibration from here, but I can see the partygoers, and I can see groups pointing and discussing the arrangements I worked so tirelessly on.
I sip my water and feel like I’m being watched.
I glance at Sydney, finding that he is the culprit.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nothing. Just admiring.”
I blush, and he smiles, but then chuckles, sipping from his drink.
“Why don’t you go admire some of the women desperate for your attention. I can see people staring at you from here.”
“I’d rather stand here with you in the quiet.”
“What’s the point in that, Sydney? I’m not here as your date. You should be out there meeting someone to make your Luna one day. That’s what you were talking to your mom about, weren’t you? She was probably wondering why you were dragging me around when–”
“She told me I should ask you to dance tonight and not waste the opportunity to find a little bit of happiness for myself.”
His voice is so level, so void of emotion.
I look up at him, seeing the darkness behind his eyes as he scans the crowd, that pinched expression he always hides with a charming smile.
I tell myself I shouldn’t care. I’ve promised myself, actually, that I’d keep this man at a distance. He’s out of my league. He’s kind, generous, and sweet and I’m…
Lonely.
So is he.
But for the first time in months–maybe even years–I don’t feel so alone while in his company.
“You’re shy,” I tell him. His gaze slides back to mine. “That’s your problem, isn’t it? It takes a lot for you to actually go and talk to someone.”
“You’re right.”
“What if I helped you–”
“Helped me what?” he turns to me with an expectant expression that immediately makes me square my shoulders. “Are you going to drag me out there and introduce me to women you don’t even know and force me to dance with them? Goddess, my mother is going to love you.”
“That’s not–first of all,” I say, shoving a finger into the center of his chest. “You’re an Alpha, Sydney. You live in that big house all alone, and poor Cosette is desperate for you to find your mate, marry, and give her some babies to look after. What is she going to do when Blake and I go to live in that cottage, huh?”
“I can’t live my life just to make Cosette happy.”
“Then live your life to make yourself happy.”
“I have no interest in marrying or having children,” he says sternly. It’s a tone I haven’t heard from him before.
I drop my hand, taking a step away from him, but he grabs my wrist, holding me in place.
“I won’t find my mate,” he continues, his eyes lighting on mine with such intensity it’s making my knees slightly weak. “So none of that matters. As for my titles, I have it all planned out already. Ryan will find his mate, I’m sure. He’ll have as many children as he possibly can, and one of my nephews will be the Alpha of Shadowcrest, then the Alpha King one day.”
“But why not…. You might find your mate one day and then–”
“I won’t,” he says again, and I realize with startling clarity that it’s not because he’s confident he’s never going to find his mate but because he doesn’t want to.
“Why?”
He’s still touching me. His thumb absently slides up and down my wrist, over my pulse. His eyes are downcast, and for a moment, I think he’s looking at my breasts but… no. He looks up at me as my heart begins to race, thundering against my ribs. He can sense it.
“I’ve seen the cruelty in the world, the danger my family is in every waking moment because of our powers, and I can’t–” He bares his teeth, and I realize how close we are to each other. He runs his tongue along his lower lip. “I refuse to put my mate in danger, so I refuse to find her.”
I hold his gaze. I’m sure he expects me to say something like, “That’s stupid.” Or, “What a waste.”
But I say, “I understand completely.”
Just then, the music softens, and whatever haze we’ve been sucked into snaps.
But he doesn’t back away. He simply knits his fingers in mine and leans in to say, “We have to dance, at least once, otherwise it will have been a waste of a dress.”