Wolf's Secret (Alpha's Hunger Book 2) Read online

  “You haven’t told me who actually owns this place,” I said as Tristan took my hand and helped me out of the car. “It’s not yours, is it? Because if it is, I’m about to get seriously pissed off that you’ve never told me about it.”

  He shook his head with a soft, muffled chuckle. “It belongs to an old friend,” he replied. “She lives here alone, believe it or not. She has for some time.”

  “I see. So, you’re not going to tell me more than that?”

  He shook his head. “I think it’s better for you to meet her than have me try to explain her to you. She’s a little…different…from most people. Even from her own kind.”

  “I’ve got news for you, Wolfe,” I said, pulling in tight to his side and tucking my arm into his as we made our way towards the front door. “Everyone you’ve ever introduced me to is a little different. No, make that a lot different.”

  “Yes, well, let’s just say that Estella is extra special. She has her quirks. I should warn you, women tend not to like her very much.”

  The slightest twinge of jealousy pierced my armor as his words met my ears. I’d never heard him mention someone called Estella. Suddenly I couldn’t help but wonder how close she and Tristan were. Was she beautiful, like Kara? More beautiful, even? How long had they known one another? Was she a shifter? Was she ancient and experienced, like him?

  I braced myself for what could end up being a very long night, reminding myself silently that I had nothing to worry about.

  Tristan was here with me.

  Right?

  I couldn’t help the pangs of jealousy that attacked me on occasion. The less my lover opened up about himself, about his feelings, about his past, the harder it was for me to let my guard down and trust him. I knew nothing about his past other than what I’d read in newspaper articles, and I’d learned quickly not to take gossip columns seriously. They loved to speculate about his romantic life, but they never seemed to get a single detail right.

  All I had to go on was my faith in Tristan’s feelings for me. But it wasn’t easy to convince myself to relax and enjoy the ride. Something—trouble, danger, intrigue—always seemed to be lurking just beneath the fragile surface of our relationship. Nothing was ever simple with us. For some reason, every major event in our lives together had been laced with emotional peril.

  The best I could hope for tonight was a drama-free evening.

  But even that seemed unlikely.

  Sighing, I reminded myself that Tristan had lived for over two centuries. He was acquainted with some of the most beautiful people I’d ever met, many of them female. I knew in my heart that he had to have been intimate with at least some of them. My lover wasn’t a saint, after all. But he was mine.

  At least for a little while.

  Still, a deep internal warning told me to brace myself to meet the owner of this estate. If this massive, imposing place was occupied by a single female, something about her had to be a little off. The dwelling was big enough to house twenty people comfortably. I couldn’t imagine living in it on my own, unless I was hiding something…or seriously eccentric.

  We made our way inside only to be greeted by the sight of a couple of hundred people or more, milling around a pure white, sunken living room with ceilings that must have been thirty feet from the floor. The space was fitted with enormous crystal chandeliers, white furnishings and a white marble floor. The sound of a live band resonated in the distance, pumping out happy jazz tunes from some unseen locale.

  The scene before us was like something out of a modern version of The Great Gatsby. Masked, elegant party-goers moved about, some engaged in lively conversation, others dancing to light swing tunes. Most of the women were dressed in gravity-defying white gowns, some of which just barely covered them enough to be legal. One eye-catching dress was transparent enough for me to be able to describe the specific trim pattern of its wearer’s tiny patch of pubic hair; another guest wore a gown whose bodice plunged so low that I could see hints of each nipple poking out above. The men, who were apparently more inclined towards conservative attire, wore tuxedos like Tristan’s. Some were white, some black, which gave the scene before us a clean, monochromatic flare.

  “I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb,” I said, pressing close to Tristan and looking down. My red masterpiece suddenly seemed like a stain on a crisp, clean palette.

  “That’s the idea,” he said. “I want my lover to be noticed by everyone.”

  “I’m beginning to think you’re a sadist,” I whispered, though my lips couldn’t help but pull up into a grin.

  “A very specific kind,” he replied, nodding his wolf head. “But if you’re really uncomfortable, we don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable,” I said. “Only a bit overwhelmed.”

  Tristan wrapped a hand around my waist and squeezed reassuringly. Immediately, my breath seemed to come easier. The good news was that no one was turning our way or staring; apparently I wasn’t making quite the crimson splash that I’d feared.

  So far, so good.

  Servers wandered among the throng of bodies with round trays, offering hors d’oeuvres to anyone willing to remove their masks long enough to pop them in their mouths.

  For a moment I wondered how any catering staff could possibly work in a place filled with shifters without feeling uncomfortable for reasons they couldn’t quite identify. But when I stopped to assess of one of them, I began to understand. He was tall, strong-looking, his eyes bright. He lacked the powerful air of a shifter, but he still held an allure that most human men didn’t have.

  A Lesser, I thought. Like Marcus. No doubt he was working at the ball in order to pay his dues to some high-ranking shifter, to show his loyalty to the faction he worked for. This was grunt work, meant to lead to his place within a pack.

  “Are those Estella’s employees?” I asked Tristan, though I wasn’t yet sure I wanted to know too much about our hostess.

  “They are, yes,” Tristan replied. “They’re here to get a taste of our world. A Lesser needs to understand shifters before they can fully join us. Our nature. Our conflicts.” With that, he nodded into the distance, and I followed his gaze to see Marcus standing on the other side of the massive room, his eyes scanning the place. “Speaking of which, your friend is on duty tonight as well. He’s impressive, that one. He’ll be strong when he comes into his own.”

  Marcus was dressed in a tuxedo, a black mask in his hand. His back was pressed to the wall next to a huge white fireplace, his eyes moving around the room slowly. “Duty doing what?” I asked.

  “He’s looking out for enemies,” Tristan replied.

  I could have asked the obvious question—what enemies, exactly?—but something stopped me. There were probably many quiet wars waging among the denizens of this room, wars that I might never understand. I’d learned at the meeting of New York’s shifter leaders that betrayal wasn’t uncommon in this world. Every shifter had foes.

  Tristan probably had dozens of them.

  For a few seconds I found myself scanning the room, looking to see if I could spot any familiar faces or bodies among the sea of masked strangers. The view was pretty incredible. So many faces concealed behind gorgeous masks, so many beautiful bodies, all in one place. Strong, massive men and lithe women whose curves seemed to slink into all the right places in their elegant dresses. Each and every person in the room reminded me of an animal. Sleek, elegant, otherworldly.

  As we advanced through the crowd, red silk trailing behind me on the floor, I began to feel like a deep blood stain on a pristine white sheet.

  “Everyone looks amazing,” I whispered. I was grateful to have half my face covered. At least part of me was hidden from curious eyes.

  “As do you,” Tristan said.

  “I’m feeling like a big red ink blot at the moment.”

  “You should feel nothing but incredible about yourself,” he told me. “If heads turn to stare, it’s only because you’re the sexiest woma
n in this entire place. Not to mention that your breasts are far superior to anyone else’s.”

  “Oh, goody,” I laughed. “I hope they’re giving away prizes later. Best tits at the Midsummer Ball is what I’ve dreamed of all my life.”

  “If they do, you’ll win hands down.” Tristan said. Though I couldn’t see his lips, it was easy to hear the smile in his voice, not to mention the ever-present hunger that cropped up whenever he got onto the topic of the ladies.

  The man was insatiable…not that I minded in the least.

  We made our way deeper into the gigantic room only to be greeted by a loud, high-pitched “Squeeee!”

  Like a bullet exiting the chamber of a high-powered gun, an extremely fast-moving woman came running at us from out of nowhere. Her face, which was bare for the moment, was exquisite—a set of large, cat-like green eyes with dark lashes, accented by prominent, feminine cheekbones. Her lips were full, her nose perfect. She looked like a cross between a supermodel and Cleopatra, sexy and regal at once.

  Like me, she’d chosen not to dress in white; instead, she wore a full-on ball gown striped in green and pink that brought to mind watermelon and sunny days. She looked approachable and odd at once, like something out of a magical circus.

  Her tight bodice was the sort that shoved a woman’s breasts skyward, making them look like puffed-up pastry fresh out of the oven.

  Those are some massive muffins, I thought, staring at her chest in spite of myself.

  Something told me she had to be Estella, the owner of the spectacular house we were standing in.

  She grabbed Tristan, pulling him close enough to deliver a kiss on each cheek, a little too near his lips for my liking. “There he is,” she purred as she pulled back to stare at him. “The most handsome man in the whole fucking world.” In one swift gesture, she reached out and thrust his mask upwards, presumably so she could stare at him longingly. I tightened as I watched, resisting the urge to grab him and pull him back to me.

  Bitch.

  “Estella,” Tristan said, his voice warm, deep. A voice I didn’t like hearing directed at another woman. “So good to see you.”

  I mustered a tight smile, unsure if I should be amused by her forwardness or irritated enough to slap the smile off her face.

  Something in her appearance reminded me of Kara, though Kara was thinner and a little taller, more like a standard runway model. Estella, on the other hand, had a voluptuous body. She was a walking hourglass; all hips, a narrow waist, and cartoonishly round breasts that were beginning to look like they might explode at any second.

  Her body and face were young-looking and devoid of wrinkles, her emerald eyes dancing with some lingering pleasure combined with a look of mischief that all but frightened me. Something in her manner made me think she was far older than her physical appearance dictated. The woman exuded confidence and self-awareness, like she knew at all times exactly who and what she wanted. And she had no qualms whatsoever about asking for it.

  The word cougar sprang to mind, and immediately I wondered if she was some kind of shifter.

  “Estella,” Tristan said, taking her hand and turning her to face me. As she moved with him, I noticed that she was holding a mask in her right hand. It was pure white with silver accents, coated in what looked like the feathers of a swan. “This is Ariana.”

  She reached a hand out, palm down, wrist bent as though she expected me to bend reverently and kiss it. Instead, I shook it hard, unsure of what else to do.

  Immediately I regretted my choice. Her grip was so limp and mine was so tight that I felt like I might crush her bones.

  “Firm handshake,” she said, smiling and letting out a ringing laugh as she pulled her hand back. “Impressive. I had heard that you had the blood of a Valkyrie running through your veins, but now I know for sure.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly, “did I hurt you?”

  Tristan and Estella looked at each other before they both burst into gales of laughter, and once again I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Apparently they’d tucked themselves together into some little in-joke and left me on the outside, feeling like an ass.

  Tristan put his hand on my lower back as if in apology for being amused. “Estella is half-Valkyrie,” he said. “She’s more than a little powerful. She’s led armies to war, this one. It would be pretty hard to break her bones, even for a woman as impressive as you.”

  “Valkyrie?” I asked. “Really?” It was no wonder she reminded me of Kara. I looked at our hostess again, wondering what her other half was. Suddenly I could picture her dressed in some sort of armor, complete with a horned helmet and round shield, screaming her way into battle with a sword in hand.

  “Your lover flatters me,” she replied. “It’s been a long time since I’ve waged war. I much prefer making love, if you know what I mean.” She turned back to Tristan, reaching for his lapel and pulling him towards her in a way that irritated the piss out of me. “Though I do hear that another war may be coming,” she said, making the words sound more seductive than menacing.

  He took her by the wrist and pushed her hand away quietly, which was enough to soothe my fraying nerves. “Let’s not think about war tonight, okay?” he said, dropping her arm. He grabbed my hand and made a show of laying a long, lingering kiss on it. “I want to enjoy this night. The last thing I need to worry about is my enemies.”

  “And enjoy it you will, with that lovely creature on your arm,” Estella said, eyeing me up and down and licking her lips. Suddenly I wasn’t sure it was actually men she was into. “She’s good enough to eat, that one.” With that, she pressed in close to my lover and whispered loudly, “Her tits are incredible.”

  I felt myself flush under my mask, though part of me actually managed to find the come-on flattering. I’d never been hit on by a woman before. But I reminded myself that Estella seemed like the sort who hit on everything that moved, so I probably shouldn’t let it go to my head.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Tristan told her. “Every part of Ariana is incredible.”

  “I’d love to hear more about her, darling, but for now, I must tend to the others.” With another twinkling laugh, Estella took off to go flirt with the other guests.

  “She’s…a character,” I said when she’d moved far enough away to be out of earshot. “To put it politely.”

  “She’s very forward, I know,” Tristan replied, his tone more sheepish than I was used to from him, like he suddenly felt bad for not having warned me properly what I was in for. “I hope she didn’t come on too strong. Valkyries can be sexual creatures when given free rein.”

  “Free rein?” I asked. “Are you saying that someone like Kara isn’t free?”

  “Sort of,” Tristan replied. Well, well. I was learning something new every day. “Kara works for me. She’s loyal to me. Estella, on the other hand, has no leader. She’s retired, a free agent. That means she enjoys a life of hedonism.”

  “No shit,” I said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray and chugging half of it. “I got the impression that she would have ripped your suit off if you’d so much as winked at her.”

  Tristan pulled back and stared at me from behind his wolf mask. “Oh, wow…you’re actually jealous.”

  I shot him a glare before directing my gaze to the rest of the room, biting my cheek to keep the roiling irritation at bay. “I could count fifty or more totally beautiful women in this place,” I said, “and for all I know, you’ve fucked all of them. So yeah, of course I’m jealous.”

  I could tell that he was smiling, and I wanted to punch him. “I love that you’re so possessive,” he said. He pressed his face close to my ear and whispered. “I also love that I slipped my fingers in your pussy on the way here, made you come, then licked them clean, and despite all that, you think that maybe, just maybe, there’s another woman in this room whose clit I’d like to suck.”

  My body tightened with desire, betraying my temporary a
nger. “How the hell is it,” I asked, “that you’re talking about licking and sucking other women’s body parts and all I want to do right now is fuck your brains out?”

  His shoulders rose and fell in a carefree shrug. “Who knows? Hey, listen—on a completely unrelated topic, it’s getting dark out there. I think maybe we should go for a walk in the garden before too long. I’d like to find a nice secluded corner and show you what it is to be with a one-woman man.”

  The last of the iciness in my chest melted away as I pondered the possibility of feeling him inside me. “Hell, yes,” I replied. “Gardens at night are the best places to…walk.”

  Chapter 9

  Tristan and I made our way slowly towards the back of the house, pressing between close-talking bodies. Guests kept grabbing him to say hello or talk shop, recognizing him in spite of, or perhaps because of, his mask.

  Each time it happened, Tristan introduced me, which meant that twenty or so minutes had passed before we actually made it even close to Estella’s large kitchen at the rear of the house.

  While Tristan was engaged in a conversation with Bahal, the leader of New York’s grizzly faction, I finally stepped over the threshold into the kitchen. A tall man with dark hair and eyes almost the color of ebony sat at the granite-topped island, his gaze distant. But when his eyes met mine, his expression turned friendly, a giant smile spreading over his features.

  “Rourke,” I said, recognizing the raven shifter, “I haven’t seen you in a while. At least, not up close.”

  “I’ve seen the top of your head quite a few times,” he laughed. “Far below. Sorry if I make you feel like you’re being stalked.”

  I chuckled. “There’s no one I’d rather have stalking me,” I said. “You never make me feel like my personal space is being invaded. I suppose I’d prefer if Tristan didn’t think I need bodyguards, but after what happened with Jack, I get it.”