Alpha Knighton

Chapter 3

“How long do we have to stay at this thing?” Langston grumbled, already beginning to fidget with his high collar.

“It’s my first year among society as the duke, events like this will help my standing among the nobility and the Lords that will eventually vote on the bills we plan to introduce to them in the House of Lords, so I would say we will stay long enough for me to dance with a few of their daughters and play a few rounds of cards.” Gregory snapped back, adjusting his sleeves as he walked up the wide steps of the grand house of the Marquess of Marwood.

“No need to get snippy with me, it was a valid question given the ridiculous style of clothing that is needed for such events.” His friend now sounded as if he were whimpering, which was an odd sound coming from such a large man.

“It’s the moons cycle, we are only days away from a full moon, an event that we both know plays with our mentality. Besides, it is not as if you had to come. As my secretary you are not needed at such events.”

“Maybe not, but as your Beta I am required to stay by your side while not on Knighton Lands.”

“Enough with that kind of talk, no need to risk others hearing us.” As they neared the ballroom Gregory was thrilled to realize they had come late enough to miss the receiving line, he did not feel like being no display anymore then he already would be. He’d put off coming to town for too long, having been more than happy to have his father take care of the political and social aspects of running the pack. That was, until he’d been killed in a hunting trip three years before hand.

The ballroom doors were thrown open, giving Langston and Gregory a perfect view of the overcrowded room below. Both men began fidgeting with their collars, suddenly feeling anxious about being surrounded by so many people who would surely want their heads if they knew what they truly were.

“I do believe sustenance will be needed to face the hoards below, are you in agreement your grace?” Langston asked, turning to his friend and superior with a questioning gaze.

“Capital idea, I’ll be on the balcony, I’ll take the best whiskey they have on hand.” With that he turned from the ballroom and the house, planning to enter through the gardens and wait on the terrace.

Thankfully, the gardens and the terrace were both empty of any other living soul, allowing Gregory to wonder about unencumbered, to enjoy the beauty of the flowers and plants growing all around. It was not the same as the magnificence of his country seat. Knighton Hall was allowed to grow wild for the most part, it spoke back to their animalistic history, being one with nature and enjoying its own wild beauty.

Hearing steps entering the terrace, Gregory turned to ask his friend what had taken so long, only to realize it was not Langston at all, instead, a young woman was making her exit from the heat of the ballroom instead. Gregory moved quickly for the shadows, not wanting the rest of the guests to know he was present yet.

As she moved past him the intoxicating fragrance assaulted his senses. Soft and floral, yet bold. It brought to mind the purple flowers his mother had planted beneath the windows of her and fathers’ chambers, now his rooms. She had called them Hyacinths.

This mystery woman reminded him of home, or at least her scent did. But it was more than that, it spoke to him on a level he had never experienced. Deep within him he felt his wolf spirit, Lomo, stir. Moving to the surface his wolf breathed in her scent, and excitement flashed through him and by exchange, through Gregory as well.

“Mate.”

One word was all the wolf growled. But that one word was enough to shock the duke. Fated mates were a fairy tale, a folklore used to put young pups to sleep at night. They did not exist, and even if they had at some point in time, fated mates had not been found in at least the past two centuries. Mates were chosen, according to their social standing and the funds they could bring to the pack. So why was his wolf insistent that this woman was his?

“She is mine.” Lomo snarled, uncaring of the logic behind his demands.

“Mine.” Gregory seemed to growl, tasting the word on his lips. The girl in question spun around, the white satin of her gown swishing about her feet. In the moonlight she was a remarkable sight. Tall and curvy she looked unlike any other simpering debutante he had seen so far. Her dark red hair was pilled on her hair with soft curls framing her heart shaped face, eyes so dark green they reminded him of the moss in the forest stared back at him in wide eyed fear.

Fear? Had she heard him? Had he in fact growled aloud?

“Knighton, I have your drink.” Langston called as he walked from the ballroom and onto the terrace, though he drew to a quick halt when his gaze landed on the lovely young woman. “Oh, pardon me, my lady, I was looking for-."

“Me, you were looking for me.” Gregory spoke up, stepping from the shadows he had been using for cover and into the light spilling from the balcony doors.

“I should return to my mother.” The young beauty muttered, moving to sweep from the balcony. Without considering how it would look to her, Gregory called on his wolf’s strength and sped to intercept her, one hand lightly touching her elbow to halt her escape.

“Please, I just need to know your name.” He spoke softly, watching as her eyes widened in surprise at his proximity.

“This is highly improper, not only would I be ruined if anyone happened upon me out here with not one, but two gentlemen, alone, but we have not been properly introduced.” Margaret eyed him for a moment, refusing to give any indication of just how much heat had coursed through her system at his touch on her arm. Even through the cloth of his glove. “Now excuse me, your grace, I must be on my way.”

“Well now, you have me at a disadvantage, for you know who I am, yet I cannot say the same of me to you.”

“I know you have been out of society for some time, but that is no excuse for your utter lack of refinement and manors.” Margaret huffed, yanking her arm from his light hold and whisking past him. “Good night, your grace.”

“Perhaps a dance, miss?” Gregory left the question hanging, hoping she’d fill in her name. He needed her name, as of now she was the only woman he could consider taking to wife, at least if the way Lomo was bristling were any indication.

At the door, just inches from the threshold, the young lady turned and flicked the silver fan in her hands open with a snap, batting it just below her chin as she looked him up and down with a look of condescension. “My dance card is full. And it’s Lady.” With that she was gone, with a swish of her skirts, leaving a bemused Gregory and a grinning Langston in her wake.