Big Bad Wolf Dad: A Fated Mate Romance Page 3

  Around them other women, all human, filtered in as well, looking nervous and timid. They tended to clump in pairs or larger groups, keeping themselves separate from the men. Most of them were showing various signs of pregnancy, from large, rounded stomachs of those nearing the end of their term, to those just starting to give off the subtle hints of carrying another life within them. Many more fit between the two ends.

  She glanced over at Kelly, her friend sipping away and looking over the rim of her crystal glass at the sights in front of them. Somehow she doubted it was the décor that had caught Kelly’s attention. Her friend was shameless, and had made it very clear her intent for the evening was to find someone. Erika wasn’t sure Kelly truly understood that most of these shifters would be looking for mates, the one woman that they would spend the rest of their life with. She doubted many of them were looking for a fun night only.

  “Go on,” she said. “Have fun. I’ll be hanging around here, or by the bathrooms.”

  “Okay!” Kelly said, not putting up a fight. She embraced Erika, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek and then whispering in her ear. “Don’t just mope around. Promise me you’ll at least talk to people who approach you.”

  “I’m not a bitch,” she protested. “I came here after all, didn’t I?”

  “True,” Kelly was forced to admit. “And you do look fantastic.”

  Erika blushed at the compliment. Although she’d played down coming to the ball, that hadn’t stopped her from going all out in preparation. Getting all dressed up was half the fun of any formal event anyway. The welts on her feet from the heels she’d shoved her feet into certainly wasn’t what she went through it all for.

  The dress she wore was a deep purple one-shoulder affair. Cinched tight under her chest, it fell to the floor with a pleated design. Worked into the shoulder itself was a crystal design that stopped just shy of the curves of her breasts. The satiny material shimmered and reflected some of the light, creating shadows and curves as she moved.

  “Thank you,” she said with a tight smile. “Now, go flirt and be shameless,” she ordered.

  “On it!” Kelly laughed and headed off into the crowd.

  Erika immediately turned and walked over to the food tables that she’d been ignoring while talking to her friend. Grabbing one of the plates, she began to pile on the food displayed there. Grilled chicken slathered in cheese sauce went next to still-warm pastries, both of which found themselves staring across at a heaping pile of mashed potatoes, one of her favorite foods.

  Well, I certainly won’t be going home with an empty stomach, that’s for sure. A full belly was the only thing she planned on taking home that she hadn’t arrived with. Moving off to one side, she held the plate in one hand and speared at the chicken with another, trying not to groan at the deliciousness of it. The cheese had a bit of a kick to it, making her wonder if it in fact was chipotle cheese something or other. Erika wasn’t a cook, but she certainly appreciated good food. Not haute cuisine; no, good food. Tasty food with large portions. There was a distinct difference.

  Staring around, she noticed that the flow of people inside had fallen off to a trickle, and the band had begun warming up, plucking at chords here and there, as if they intended to start soon. Erika wasn’t overly interested in dancing on a full stomach, so she set her plate down on a table that seemed designated as the dirty-dish station and snagged another drink from a passing waiter after ensuring it was alcohol-free. She was here to have fun, not be irresponsible. There was a living child growing inside her stomach, even if it wasn’t fully formed yet.

  Noting a number of men—whom she figured to be shifters—standing around dressed in all-white jackets and pants yet not serving any noticeable function, Erika pondered their presence. Most of them seemed highly alert, constantly scanning the crowd, as if looking for something. Or someone. Security. It had to be. Were they expecting trouble? Curious, she approached one.

  “Are you security?” she asked, standing next to the man, so as not to block his view.

  “Ah, yes ma’am. Lieutenant Kiefer Hartmann, at your service,” he replied, never once removing his eyes from the crowd. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no,” she said slowly following his gaze. It was tough; every fourth person a cute face slowed her scan down. There were plenty of good-looking men in the room. Even the guard six inches to her left was extremely handsome. But none of them spoke to her, or called for more of her attention than a simple glance. “I was just wondering why you’re here. Whom are you expecting to cause trouble?”

  This time the guard did turn to look at her. “You’re a single woman, accompanied by only single women, in a hall full of single male shifters.” His eyes danced with mild laughter.

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I understand. Are your people normally unwilling to respect the boundaries I might set?” she asked, wondering if she was about to learn a deep secret of the shifter culture.

  “No ma’am,” he said with a firmness that told her she’d struck a nerve. “Most of us are good, honest people that can be depended on to respect your wishes. More so than humans on average, I’d say.” He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, she got the distinct impression he was unhappy about what he was saying next. “But although I like to think we’re generally more chivalrous and polite, we aren’t perfect either. We have our darkness and our assholes, those who don’t obey the rules.” He shrugged. “I’m here to make sure they only break the rules once.”

  The iron threat in his voice made it clear that he wasn’t going to tolerate any law-breaking.

  “So what makes you and the others different from the rest?” she asked. “How do you know your men won’t break the rules?”

  This time Kiefer grinned. “Well, they aren’t my men, ma’am, but thank you. This is First Company, under Captain Luther Klein,” he said, nodding toward a tall, serene looking man on the other side of the indoor tent. “And the difference, besides us being the best of the best of the best, ma’am, is that the security detail tonight was all chosen from mated shifters.” His grin grew wider. “You have no power here,” he joked.

  Erika found herself laughing alongside him. “Well then, Lieutenant Hartmann,” she said. “I shall leave you to your job, though I hope that you go home bored.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” he said, but his tone was too light to be referring to anything bad. “Someone is going to get too drunk and make a fool of themselves in a way that they’ll never live down, I’m sure of it.”

  They laughed again. “Well, it is a party,” she said, before bidding adieu to the lieutenant and finding herself a water glass.

  In the corner the first strands of a concerto drifted out over the audience, eliciting many approving murmurs from the assembled shifters, many of whom immediately turned to women near them and took their hands, guiding them onto the floor. Elsewhere others finally sucked up their courage and made their way toward other women. Some succeeded. Others were turned down.

  On the floor itself, the men took their partners by the hand and the waist, and began to guide them through what must have been a popular dance in Cadia. The moves were vaguely familiar, but likely because she’d seen them on one TV show or another, not because Erika had any idea how to execute them.

  Mostly it seemed the men just lifted and twirled the women with a casual strength that made her remember that they weren’t actually human, despite looking like it. The scene was almost picturesque, the large gowns and the fancy suits, all twirling, dipping, and soaring in unison. It brought a smile to her face.

  The men moved elegantly.

  The women flowed gracefully.

  And in the corner Erika stood leaning against a pole chewing on ice cubes. She wasn’t going on the dance floor. Nope. No way. No how. This was her spot.

  A finger gently tapped her shoulder. “Excuse me, miss?”

  Chapter Five

  Harden

  He couldn’t believe
he was doing this. What had come over him? The plan was to just go, have some food and some drink, and then leave. Without potentially embarrassing himself with rejection.

  You aren’t going to get rejected.

  That remained to be seen. His inner self was fairly confident of that fact, but Harden doubted it. In fact, he was doubting much of what he felt these days. Ever since he and his friends had been rescued from imprisonment, he’d felt…different. It had taken him some time to realize what the change was, but it had become apparent the first day he’d been allowed out and about onto the hospital grounds. In a fit of joy at the freedom, he’d called to his wolf and lunged forward toward the ground.

  Where he’d promptly fallen on his face and eaten a mouthful of dirt and grass. His wolf, a constant companion for fourteen years, hadn’t come to him when he’d called. Harden had been shocked. Stunned. Confused. You name it, he’d felt it. Anger, fear, sadness, jealousy, hatred, depression, they’d all taken root, alternating in when they would affect him. He’d slowly come to terms with the fact that his wolf might never come back.

  The odd part was, he still acted like a shifter. His senses were still superior, his strength stronger, and his speed quicker. He could heal faster and recover sooner. All of those remained with him. But he couldn’t shift into his wolf form. For a decade and a half he and his wolf had worked in tandem, as a team, tackling any problem, opportunity or situation that arose.

  So now when he went to consult it for guidance, all he got was himself. Not that the animal could talk, but it could communicate in its own way, indicating approval or disapproval, urging him to do things or shying away from others. Now though, he was left with his conscience, and he was rapidly finding that it gave terrible, terrible advice.

  Which is exactly why he expected that this beautiful woman in the stunning purple dress would blow him off, at best. At worst…well, he didn’t want to think of anything worse. Being rejected in front of everyone would be bad enough for his ego.

  He reached up and tapped her gently on the delicate skin of her shoulder, admiring the faint bronzed tinge to it. It had the natural color acquired from being outdoors, not something she painted on, or been born with.

  A faint shock leapt out from his fingertip and into her skin, making her spin probably faster than she would, looking down at her shoulder in consternation and then up at him, brown eyes flashing with a fire at being interrupted.

  Oh shit. He’d known it was a bad idea. Known it from the start. Somehow he’d still found his way across the floor, the first shifter to risk her wrath. From the beginning he like every other shifter in there had sensed the off-putting vibe she’d been exuding, making it very clear she’d not wanted to be interrupted, talked to, or worst of all, what he was about to do, asking her to dance.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone bordering on that of rude, but maintaining just a smidgen of politeness to offset it.

  Yep, not interested at all.

  “Yes,” he replied, feeling his ego, confidence, and competitive spirit solidify and harden under her attack.

  No, she wasn’t going to brush him off that easily. He wasn’t going to force her into anything, but neither was he about to back down. Whoever she was, she’d come to the ball, which meant deep down, on some level, she’d be okay with him approaching her. Okay, maybe not him, but somebody, and nobody else had had the guts yet, so why not him? Besides, she’d also put effort into her appearance. Gorgeous auburn hair fell down her back in long spiraled locks, ending just below her shoulder blades. Makeup, faint and yet subtly bold, graced the curves of her face. Around her eyes it darkened just a bit, accentuating her catlike brown circles.

  “And how is that?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to make small talk for a few minutes while you finish your drink and digest your food. Then, after that has concluded, I’d like to guide you about the dance floor in a routine that I know intricately and you not at all, but that we’ll somehow manage to come together to make look graceful. After that, we get to my real goal, which—”

  “Listen, I’m flattered, but it takes more than a dance to get me into bed with you,” she interrupted.

  “—is to return here and gorge ourselves on some more food,” he finished as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

  Her face turned from dismissive, well, he hated to use the word bitch, but it was an apt description, to shock, to bright pink with embarrassment.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “I’m Harden,” he said. “Harden Archer.” He might not get much more out of her, but she at least owed him her name now, for making such a rude assumption about his intent.

  “Erika Rey,” she said, taking his hand. “Sorry about that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. I guess. But you should know, Erika Rey, that most of the shifters here—in fact I’d say the large majority—would be more in line with my interests than your assumptions. Don’t get me wrong…we love sex, and you are gorgeous, but our society isn’t quite as liberal about it as yours. Not on a night like tonight, at least. Tonight is about finding that someone.”

  “A mate,” she said, supplying the word for him.

  “Yes. A mate,” he admitted. “It’s unlikely, a long shot really, but with so many women in one room, it’s likely that some of us will find that connection. If so, who knows where it may lead. But you can rest easy that most of us are interested in more than a night with you.”

  She looked flustered, and he took pity on her.

  “So can I use your embarrassment and regret to guilt you into a dance and some food?” he asked, smiling widely to let her know he was just teasing.

  Erika considered his question for several long moments, clearly taking the time to evaluate her. So Harden did the same back to her. From up close she was even more gorgeous than he’d thought. A round face was highlighted by the thin reddish-brown hair, several tresses falling in front of her shoulders as well. Freckles dotted her face, combined with the slight bronze tinge to what he assumed was normally pale skin giving her a beautiful fresh look that she’d seen fit not to cover up with pounds of makeup.

  The dress hid what he figured to be rather shapely legs, from what he’d seen as she’d walked over. Her stomach wasn’t flat, nor was it swollen with pregnancy, hovering somewhere in between. The hemline wasn’t cleavage-baring, though it was tight enough that he could see the curves of her breasts underneath. It was the bared shoulder that caught his attention most, a tantalizing bit of skin that seemed so ordinary, until attention was brought to it. Harden had meant what he said when he’d told her that he was interested in more than just a romp in the sheets, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in that as well. She was seductively gorgeous in an alluring, almost classic way.

  Whatever it was, it was driving him crazy, and he didn’t even know if she was going to give him a chance yet. Her eyes came alive at last, the light of a decision reflected in them. Harden braced himself, knowing that no matter what she said, he would be polite and respect that decision.

  “One dance,” she said. “Don’t try to push it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he all but purred, extending his hand, trying to contain his jubilation.

  “Right,” she snorted. “And I’m Santa Claus.”

  Harden just grinned. He liked her. “So that’s a yes then?”

  Erika smiled, and he knew he had her. For one dance at least.

  “Hurry up, before I change my mind,” she said, lifting her hand and placing it in his outstretched palm.

  “I’m not big on rushing things,” he quipped, guiding her toward the dance floor.

  “Let me guess, you are big on puns,” she returned dryly.

  “Well, big on something,” he said with a grin as they reached the dance floor.

  Erika groaned, but she didn’t resist as he gently spun her to face him, placing his hand on her hip and holding the other out to the side. The music was just winding down from one song, so
they gently swayed together while waiting for the next tune to pick up. He tried not to give away the fact that his heart was jumping, threatening to give out on him.

  Relax. You know how to dance. You’re decent at it. Stop freaking out. She said yes to the dance, which is a miracle in itself. Just enjoy it, and don’t make a fool of yourself. Also, don’t trip.

  One time. One measly time he’d tripped while still much younger and coming to terms with his sudden growth spurt and awkwardly large new body. The girl he’d been with hadn’t even laughed, though she’d smiled. Yet all these years later, and his brain still chose to remind him, making him cringe at the memory.

  Thanks brain.

  The band began to play, plucking at strings of their various instruments, and a slow, almost haunting melody drifted out over the crowd. After so many upbeat songs in a row, it was time to slow it down. So he gently swayed with Erika, trying desperately to think of something to say, while enjoying the delicate touch of her hand on his shoulder, or the soft skin of her hand that he held.

  “I’m disappointed,” she said.

  “What?” Why? Why would she be disappointed? What had gone wrong? Harden thought furiously, trying to think of what had happened, where he’d misstepped.

  “I was actually looking forward to doing one of those faster ones, where you have to lift me and basically carry me around the floor,” she said.

  He grinned. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to find it within yourself to stick around for a second dance then, won’t you?”

  Erika’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, but after a second they softened and she smiled. “Maybe. You’ve managed to keep your hand at a proper level on my back, which is a good sign in my books.”

  Harden almost snorted, but then changed it into something a little more restrained, simply blowing air from his mouth slowly. “I’ve got more respect for you than that,” he replied.

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” she shot back, not so much an accusation but as a statement.