The Rejected Wolf Princess

The Birthday Ball

Evie’s POV

As Marisa helps me get ready for the ball, it dawns on me how utterly lonely I am.

I don’t have a single friend. How did that never occur to me before?

Sure, I have—at least, had—Ty. We spent a lot of time together, we teased each other, and we had a few laughs. But he was my bodyguard, not my friend.

And Marisa? Sure, we exchange bits of giggles and gossip from time to time, and she’s certainly opened my mind up to some questions about s*x in the past few weeks, but she’s my lady-in-waiting. Like Ty, it’s her job to serve me, not to be my friend.

“You okay, Princess?” Marisa asks me cheerfully as she places the last of the pins into my immaculate half-updo. “Nervous to see your true mate for the first time?”

I told her it was Tristan. I’m going to tell everyone it’s Tristan. Not for my parents’ sake—as far as I’m concerned, this mountain of debt they accumulated has nothing to do with me, and shouldn’t define my life or happiness—but because it’s what Ty wants.

I’m still not sure what to believe regarding Ty. The story about the girl from his pack makes sense, but it doesn’t explain the connection between us. Having never had a true mate before, I suppose it’s possible that I only thought I felt it from his end because my own feelings were so intense.

My heart says otherwise, though. As does my wolf.

“Yes,” I lie to Marisa, because it’s easier. “Very nervous.”

“Well, you have no reason to be. Just look at you.”

I rise to my feet to scan my reflection in the mirror. In keeping with the traditions of wolves coming of age, I went for a bold dress. It’s a deep scarlet—just a few shades darker than my hair—with a plunging neckline and a tight waistline. I tried to refuse to wear the Choker, not feeling the usual desire to impress Tristan with it anymore, but Marisa insisted that the dress called for it, and I was too tired to protest.

Besides, the Choker got a comment out of Ty at one point, didn’t it? You usually only wear that corset for Prince Charming. Should I be flattered?

If I told him I was wearing it for him tonight—that he should be flattered—what would he say?

I’m going to find out, I decide as I make my way to the door.

I might not be able to tell the world he’s my true mate, but I can still tell him—as often and as loudly as I want.

- - - - -

“You look breathtaking tonight, Princess,” Tristan tells me with one of those trademark sweeping bows when he comes to the top of the ballroom stairs to take my arm. “Dare I ask the fateful question?”

I study him carefully, marveling at how little I feel when I do so. More than anything, I’m curious. Is he lying? He certainly doesn’t seem like he’s feeling the pull of the mating bond. He just seems like a slightly overzealous teenager.

“Do you really need to ask?” I ask him with a demure smile as I curtsy to him, then take his arm. “All is right in the world.”

Not exactly a lie, is it? I sneak a glance behind me toward Ty, who looks unfathomably handsome tonight in a sharp, black waistcoat with a crisp, white shirt and kerchief. He’s watching us with a delightfully irritated expression.

“So glad to hear it,” Tristan says as he guides me to the dance floor. “Not that there was any doubt in my mind. We’re simply perfect for each other; it only makes sense that the Moon Gods agree.”

Bold move, bringing up the Moon Gods in this dirty lie. Maybe I really am his true mate. If that’s the case, and I find some magical way to be with Ty, I owe it to Tristan to reject him so he can move on with his life. He’s a good guy; he deserves love.

He’s not as good a guy as Ty, of course, but who is?

“Ladies and gentleman,” announces Christopher, Father’s Beta, when Tristan and I reach the foot of the stairs. “I have the pleasure of presenting to you the beautiful Princess Everleigh Serena Crescent on the day she comes of age—and to share the wonderful news of her official engagement to Lord Tristan Gibbous!”

Wow. Wish I had known that one was coming.

Still think keeping our feelings for Ty secret is a good idea? I think grimly to my wolf.

Yes, she says calmly. Be patient, Evie.

I try to take her advice, but over the course of the next hour, patience becomes harder and harder to maintain. Tristan is an utterly boring dancer, and the amount of random guests I don’t even recognize who approach us to congratulate us on our upcoming nuptials is rather sickening. Come to think of it, Tristan’s smell is rather sickening, too. So floral. What kind of man smells floral?

By the time he announces that he’s going to go and fetch us drinks from the bar, I’m on the verge of passing out in disgust. So, naturally, I smile sweetly at him and encourage him not to rush.

“Looks like you’re in need of a dancing partner, Miracle Princess.”

I whirl around, eyes wide. Quite the 180 from the way Ty spoke to me last night, but I’ll take it. “I was just thinking how in need of a break I was,” I correct. I smirk when I see his confident countenance falter, but save him by adding, “But if it’s my true mate offering, I suppose I could hold out for one more song.”

His eyes bulge with panic as he grabs me and yanks me so close to him, my nostrils flood with that scent of sweaty, steely smoke that is a welcome change from the Lord of the Flowers. “You need to be more careful,” he growls into my ear. “I’m not the only wolf out there with exceptional hearing.”

“Perhaps it’s you who needs to be more careful,” I counter boldly, wrapping one arm around his neck and taking his hand with the other. His hands are rough, calloused, and delightfully big. “I don’t know many bodyguards who would deign to touch their charges with such boldness.”

I’m referring to his hand, which settled much lower onto my waist than is required for the purposes of dancing. Not that I’m complaining.

To my further satisfaction, he makes no move to lift the hand.

“I’ve got to commend you on your acting,” he murmurs softly into my ear. Moon God, it feels good when he does that. “Wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Did he not just tell me to watch what I say? I suppose technically he’s keeping it vague. I try my hand at the same. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the show, but I’m afraid it won’t be available much longer.”

His grip tightens, both on my hand and on my waist. “Don’t be stupid, Evie. You’d be wasting the risk on an unwilling participant.”

Right—this whole claim that he doesn’t want me back. I’m buying it less and less by the minute. “Unwilling, is it?” I ask, inching closer to him until the space between us is closed and my body is pressed against his. “You sure about that?”

His grip tightens again, and he lets out a tiny, almost imperceptible groan. “You’re incorrigible,” he mutters. “A spoiled brat.”

Is it just me, or are his insults a major turn-on?

Not just you, my wolf tells me as she purrs with delight.

I didn’t know wolves could purr.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Ty drops me like I’m made of fire, backing up so far, he bumps into the unsuspecting couple behind him.

“No,” I tell Tristan, hoping my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. “Ty just gets handsy when he drinks whiskey. Glad you’re here to rescue me.”

As I accept the flute of champagne Tristan brought me, I sneak a final peek in Ty’s direction.

He’s glowering at me, of course.

But he wouldn’t be glowering if he didn’t want me.