Her unexpected mate

His protective nature

*Aaron*

I escort the she-wolf into the dim light where I can get a better look at her.

Much like my own sandy hair, her hair is the shade of wheat with the barest hint of red, as though she has eaten strawberries as a child and the fruit has become part of her. But it is her eyes that draws me in, the blue of the hottest flames dancing upon a hearth, and I have the unsettling thought that with her I could get burned.

Not likely. I am not one to become overly involved with a female. Having watched as one had nearly destroyed my brother when they were younger, randy, and wild, I had made a vow to never allow any woman to capture my heart. I will enjoy them, ensuring they enjoy time spent with me, but I will walk away if I ever feel a spark that threatens more than a casual encounter, more than a frolic between the sheets.

I had noticed this one the moment she entered my establishment, although I make note of everyone who comes and goes. It isn’t unusual for a woman, upon first arriving at my club, to be a bit shy, to hover in a corner, to be hesitant about going forward and embracing what I offer. But this one had been neither shy nor hovering nor hesitant. She had been watching. Not the dice games or the cards or the roulette wheel. Not the well-dressed men walking through offering champagne, brandy, and port. Not the young bucks leaning over a lady’s shoulder whispering tips on how to play and compliments into her ear. No, none of that had caught her attention or sparked her curiosity. She had been watching me.

I had felt the caress of her gaze like a physical force traveling the length of me, and the urge to preen had hit me strong. But I am not one for preening. She either likes what she sees or she doesn’t. Based on the fact that her hand is now nestled in the crook of my elbow, I assume she likes it.

I am desperate to see her without the mask that covers three-quarters of her face, leaving only her mouth and chin visible. Her chin reminds me of the bottom half of a heart, but more delicate, finely etched by fate’s gentle hand. The Goddess had taken care in creating this one.

She has luscious lips, a rosy pink, not red. My mind starts to wander to other areas of her that might be pink, and I abruptly bring it back to the task at hand. Too soon to travel there. Besides, I do not need to be walking about the place, looking as though I have stuffed a tent pole in my trousers. I am introducing these ladies to sin, not decadence. “Do you have an interest in these games?”

“I wouldn’t know. I have not played them”. She mumbles.

“So you only have an interest in that which you know ? Where’s your sense of adventure, darling ?” I raise a brow at her.

She bites her lip. “I’m here, aren’t I ? My presence must demonstrate I’m in possession of a great deal”.

“But you’re not entirely comfortable with your surroundings or your daring to come here”. I point out.

“I suppose the mask was a hint, but no, I’m not. I had to give myself several lectures before convincing myself to come”. I admit.

I smile softly. “Nothing will happen here that you do not want to happen”.

She looks up at me, a bit of deviltry reflected in the blue depths. “So I will not lose my coins should I sit down at the tables ?”

I laugh, grinning at her. “Point well made”.

Her lips twitch and for half a heartbeat, I think she might at least offer me a hint of a smile. I want to see the upward curl of her lips, the joy reflected there. A sadness, a sorrow, hovering about her is calling to my protective nature, the irritating side that causes me to make sacrifices regardless of the cost to myself It is the reason I now own this club, a gift from my brother Dion, for whom I had once humbled myself before our maggot of a father. Dion had seen it as a way to repay me for a debt Dion felt he owed in spite of me insisting he didn’t. But the tug I feel to protect this she-wolf is far greater than anything I have ever experienced before. It is ludicrous to the extreme. I do not know her or anything about her. I can’t imagine she doesn’t already have a protector.

She is from a high pack, that much I do know. Her fine threads and the cut of her dress hints at it, but her diction clinches it along with the manner in which she holds herself, as though accustomed to people bending to her will. I have never much favored the ranked wolves except for the coins they could place in his pockets. At nineteen, I had opened my first Club intent on taking what I could from as many Alpha’s as possible, using them for my own betterment. Certainly, the less affluent visited my gaming hell. I have no prejudice in me when it comes to money. I had taken it from sons, brothers, and husbands. Now, with the Moon Goddess Club, I will take it from daughters, sisters, and wives.

Dion had made plans for this club before love diverted his attention away from it. He now lives on the outskirts of the city, making a wife happy and raising horses. When he handed the Moon Goddess over to me, barely a dozen women visited each night and it had been designed to reflect a bit more elegance and refinement. I have made some adjustments in order to appeal to the ladies’ hidden desires.

The addition of the masks had been my idea, because I had known women would be curious, but hesitant to show their faces. Yes, those who come through the doors has to swear an oath of secrecy, but I am well aware that oaths are broken. Hence, I had needed a way to protect those who need protection, while at the same time offering them a sanctuary and a means to fill my coffers.

The gaming room through which I am escorting Senya remains much the same as Dion had left it. All manner of gaming is to be found here, and it is here that the bulk of my income is earned.

“I had not expected to see men playing”. She says.

“They are tutoring their partners. These games are not what ladies play in the afternoon while sipping tea. Would you like me to fetch you a tutor ?” Even as the words escape my mouth from habit, my gut tightens with the thought of anyone leaning in and whispering advice into the delicate shell of her ear.

“I have no interest in learning card play”. She says.

I wonder where her interests reside but where is the fun in getting right down to it ? I prefer keeping her at my side a while longer, learning more about her, discovering all the various facets of which she is comprised. “Perhaps this will interest you more”.

I lead her through a doorway into a room my brother had envisioned for elegant meals with white linen-covered tables and candles flickering on them. What use does adventurous women have for such boring dining options ? I still have the flickering candles, but they stand on tall pillars providing the barest of light over fainting couches and mounds of pillows where she-wolves lounge while men place grapes between their lips or hand them glasses of wine. Young bucks kneel before them, holding a platter of food while they eat to their hearts’ content. Some women invites the men to join them while they dine, some merely

wants to be served. Whatever their pleasure, the gentlemen are hired to provide it.

“Do you have a hunger to be sated ?” I ask suggestively. “A thirst to be quenched ?”

“l have no interest in food or wine. Although I am intrigued by the decadence”. She muses.

She lifts those flame-blue eyes to mine, and it takes every bit of resistance I can muster not to fall headlong into the fire. Why is a woman with such seductive powers coming to an establishment that caters to the lonely wallflowers ?

“Within this room, women are made to feel like goddesses”. She continues.

lt pleases me that she understands the underlying purpose of my efforts here. I grin. “Hence the reason we call it the Goddess Parlor”.

“Did a woman help you design this place ?”

I do feel a touch of jealousy marrs her tone, but that can not be. We do not know each other well enough to spark emotions as volatile as that between us. Although, had she wanted to lounge about within these walls, I might have found myself letting go of any man who came near enough to inhale her strawberry scent. “My sister-by-marriage suggested the ladies would welcome being made to feel special”.

“Which one ? Miss Anna or Miss Summer ?” She asks.

Definitely highly ranked then. She speaks the names as though they are familiar to her tongue, and I fight not to consider with what else I might wish to make her tongue familiar.

“Summer. Although they both dispensed with the use of Miss before their names”. Except Summer still used it when she writes scathing articles about the unjust treatment of unwed mothers and children born on the wrong side of the blanket. Then she embraces her place in wolf Society, allowing it to serve

her purpose and a greater good. “You seem to know a great deal about me”.

“Your family is the talk of the town”. She mumbles.

I shake my head slightly. “My family, but not me”.

“Of course, you. How do you think I knew of this place ? Why provide women with all this ?” She asks.

“I have a gaming hell for men. Not as posh. Cards only. But every now and then a woman would come to play. Why shouldn’t women have their own space in which to enjoy themselves ? Why should they be relegated to evenings of needlework ?” I say with a small shrug.

For the first time she sounds slightly u sure. “Because it is the proper thing to do”.

“And you are proper, are you ?” I ask.

“I have been. In the past”.

I can’t help but ask. “And now ?”

“Not so much, obviously”.

I detect a bit of remorse in her tone, perhaps even shame. It will lessen in time.

She will become addicted to what I offer. I have yet to welcome a lady into my lair and not see her return. “You might not be in want of wine, but you should at least absorb the atmosphere of the parlor in a bit more comfort”.