But Wesley went in the other direction, taking a deep inhale of that delicious fae scent. He couldn’t let the little creatures completely distract him from his mission, but there was no denying a little magic could only help his cause.
The laughter from downstairs got louder. A band played a gay tune, and the smell of the food made his belly rumble. He was being foolish, chasing a fae when the real fortune was downstairs. Phillipa could be down there, laughing with some of the ladies or perhaps relishing the attention of one of the monsters in attendance.
He growled.
Magic, he told himself. Then mate.
How many times had he told himself that very same thing while he watched over her in the forest? That he would be ready.
Problem was, if he wasn’t ready now, with the help of the excellent Master Bow in this enchanting session, he would never be.
The fae magic grew stronger. He continued down the hallway stopping in front of each door, hoping to catch the vibration of the fae. One of the doors opened with him in front of it, earning a gasp from the young lady on the other side.
“Hello there, wolven,” she cooed. “I’m just about to go down to dinner, but maybe you could visit my room later?”
His eyes widened. Tongue tied.
She laughed. “First timer? That’s okay. You’ll see some of the ladies here have been to the Ball before, and we like to fill our dance cards in much more…efficient ways than those stuffy old events in the ton.”
With a tap on his shoulder from her fan, she hurried past him.
Ridiculous beast, he chided himself. How did you ever let the countess think you could go through with this? Maybe he should strip off the fine clothing that had been offered to him and slink out of the Hall before he had a chance to disgrace himself, high on fae fumes and the desire to claim what belonged to him.
No. Must claim mate.
A grand staircase spread before him and a chandelier twinkled above, reflecting the colors of the lively gathering below. He willed himself to go down the stairs. His stomach rumbled, craving equal parts the food and fae, urging him on. At the bottom of the stairs, he stood at the doorway. The magical scent was becoming overwhelming, like an army of fae awaited him on the dancefloor.
Like he could be so lucky. Or unlucky, since he would have to be on his best behavior during the Ball or get asked to leave. Master Bow had stressed that the rules were different here, and although he hadn’t specified what they were, he assumed stealing another creature’s energy was off-limits. But it didn’t stop his mouth from watering, or his nose from tingling from the scent.
Not a fae in sight. Was he losing his mind, going through withdrawal without their magic? Whatever it was, it was a dangerous feeling.
Dancing had already begun. About a half dozen couples bounced around the room to the lively tune. He remembered the song so clearly, and his foot tapped to the beat. He had no shoes, none of the monsters seemed to, and the minotaur hooves clacking against the floor created quite the racket.
Wesley was mesmerized by the movements. The sounds. Watching the ladies, with their high topknots and long lines of their necks. He’d wanted more than anything for this ritual to make him feel human again, but when he looked down at his paws, listened to the rough cadence of his own breath, felt the mania of the fae magic swirling through his veins, it was more obvious than ever that he was not.
Neither were any of the other men in this room, and they weren’t letting it get in the way of a good time.
Finally, he convinced himself to ask one of the ladies to dance. Since his chat with the forward young lass at the top of the stairs, he’d let himself think about what could happen if he did manage to get on anyone’s dance card. What it would be like to rut one of them, embrace his beast fully for the very first time.
His cock stirred in his breeches, and the short jacket offered no modesty.
He could not think like that. He was here to claim his beloved.
He moved across the room, full of confidence. He’d let the magic guide him, take it as a sign of things to come for the evening. The ladies here were in the market for a monster. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Master Bow had gone over the dances with him, satisfied that he’d remembered enough to deem him ready for the Ball. One of the ladies caught his eye, and a smile spread across her face as he approached.
A few dances would do him some good. Warm him up. Make sure he was ready when it came time to claim his mate.
A flash of green caught his eye, and an all too familiar vanilla scent. His mouth watered so profusely that he was worried he drool on his jacket.
He had to find the fae. Now.
That was when he saw the coppery hair, the soft curls framing her face, and a sun-kissed cheek…
Wife.
He froze in the middle of the room, unable to do anything but watch her walk by. She was with another woman, one who made her laugh loudly and forget to notice everything else in the room, including him.
He wanted to howl. Stride over there and claim her.
But she didn’t know him like this. The Wesley she’d known operated with grace and dignity. Two things he wasn’t sure he had any longer.
The Wolven King operated on full feral need, primal hunger, and a need for—
The magic was gone. At first, it was a relief, his mind and body could be at peace, but…
Had the magic been with Phillipa, instead of the fae all along?
His instinct was to follow her. Show himself to her. She was here, at Her Majesty’s command, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her, in her gorgeous green gown and fancy hair, mating with another monster.
He couldn’t even think straight. There was no way he could go up to her like this. Drunk on her magic and not able to think about anything but claiming her.
He dropped to all fours, earning many the suspicious gaze in the room, and ran up the stairs.
Chapter Seven
Phillipa
No matter how much she loved spending time in her garden or learning fae traditions, Phillipa had missed the spectacle of a society event. She hadn’t let herself admit it before now.
But she did have a problem she had not considered until now. As she sat down for dinner between two handsome monsters—one a serpent, the other a minotaur—she had no idea how to explain why she was here if she had a husband.
“Greetings, my lady,” the serpent said.
“Hello. Have you been to the Ball before?” Phillipa asked, taking a sip of the sweet wine that had been poured for her.
“Many times.”
His answer surprised her. “None of the ladies here have pleased you enough for you to ask them for their hand?”
She gasped and looked at the table, realizing the serpent did in fact have hands. His body appeared to be human from the waist up. He wore a jacket and cravat. His hair was slicked back from his face, and where a human gentleman would have sideburns, he had scales. She would never be so uncouth as to peek under the table and see what he was wearing on the bottom. But was she ever curious.
The serpent grinned salaciously at her, like he could read her thoughts. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
“We’ve found many ladies who have pleased us immensely,” the minotaur said. “And I hope that they would report that we’ve also pleased them just as much.” He leaned in closer. “The countess has given us the most decadent suite, with a bed big enough to accommodate us both and a guest.”