Chapter 8 — Candidate Number Six
1447 Words
Anthony Clark watched the woman sitting across the table from him.
Amber Littlewood.
Candidate number six.
The name had already been carefully written in the notebook his mother kept beside her chair. Five other names were crossed out above it.
Five meetings.
Five polite conversations.
Five women who had been absolutely perfect on paper.
And five women Anthony had absolutely no desire to see again.
Amber Littlewood, however, was perhaps the most politically valuable candidate so far.
Her father, Alpha Leonard Littlewood, was not only wealthy but widely respected. Over the last twenty years he had funded the construction of schools, hospitals, and training academies across several pack territories.
He was known as a generous wolf.
A strategic wolf.
And more importantly, a powerful ally.
Marrying his daughter would strengthen the White Hunters Pack politically.
Anthony knew this.
His mother certainly knew this.
But political logic did not make the situation any less exhausting.
Amber was speaking.
She had been speaking for almost fifteen minutes.
“…and after the northern hospital project was completed,” she continued enthusiastically, “my father insisted that I personally oversee the funding reports.”
Anthony nodded politely.
“That sounds like a great responsibility.”
Amber smiled brightly.
“It is. My father always says that a future Luna must be involved in every aspect of pack leadership.”
Anthony lifted his coffee cup and took a slow sip.
He had heard similar sentences five times already this week.
Across the table Amber leaned forward slightly.
She was undeniably beautiful.
Her golden hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her makeup was subtle but carefully done, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and bright eyes.
Her dress was elegant.
Her posture perfect.
Everything about her had been designed to impress.
And yet…
Anthony felt absolutely nothing.
Except mild boredom.
“…and of course I believe strongly in charity work,” Amber continued.
Anthony nodded again.
“Of course.”
In truth, he had stopped listening ten minutes ago.
His thoughts drifted back to the previous candidates.
The first one had spoken about hunting trophies for twenty minutes.
The second had tried to impress him by quoting ancient pack laws.
The third had barely spoken at all and spent the entire meeting blushing.
The fourth had laughed at everything he said.
The fifth had cried when he politely declined a second meeting.
And now Amber.
Candidate number six.
“…and my father always says that a Luna must understand diplomacy,” Amber finished proudly.
Anthony set his cup down.
“That is a wise perspective.”
Amber smiled warmly.
“And what about you, Alpha Clark?”
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“What about me?”
“What kind of Luna do you imagine beside you?”
Anthony paused.
He looked out the window for a moment.
The café overlooked a busy street where wolves moved between shops and offices.
Normal life.
Normal people.
People who could fall in love.
People who could find their mates.
Anthony returned his gaze to Amber.
“A Luna who understands responsibility,” he answered calmly.
Amber’s smile widened.
“That is exactly how I see myself.”
Of course it was.
She leaned forward again.
Her hand suddenly covered his.
Anthony froze for half a second.
Amber’s fingers were warm.
Her touch confident.
Possessive.
She looked directly into his eyes.
“If the Alpha wishes to test my abilities as a she-wolf,” she said softly, “I would be more than happy to demonstrate them.”
Anthony blinked slowly.
For a moment he wondered if she had actually said that.
Then he carefully withdrew his hand from her grasp.
His voice remained perfectly polite.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Littlewood.”
Amber tilted her head slightly.
“You are leaving already?”
“I have an important meeting.”
Her smile did not change.
Of course she understood what that meant.
Anthony stood.
“Thank you for your time.”
Amber remained seated, watching him calmly.
“Goodbye, Alpha Clark.”
Anthony left the café.
The cool air outside felt refreshing after the heavy politeness of the meeting.
He breathed deeply.
His car waited at the curb.
Sam Lane leaned casually against the driver’s door, arms crossed.
The Beta of the White Hunters Pack watched Anthony approach with clear amusement.
“Well?” Sam asked.
Anthony opened the passenger door and slid inside.
Sam followed a second later and started the engine.
“So,” Sam continued, pulling the car into traffic, “did candidate number six survive the interview?”
Anthony leaned his head back against the seat.
“No.”
Sam chuckled.
“That bad?”
Anthony rubbed his temple.
“Each one is worse than the last.”
Sam laughed.
“I thought the crying one was the worst.”
“That was candidate number five.”
“And this one?”
Anthony sighed.
“She offered to demonstrate her ‘skills as a she-wolf.’”
Sam nearly drove into a mailbox.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
Sam burst out laughing.
“I respect her honesty.”
Anthony glared at him.
“That was not honesty.”
“That was ambition.”
They drove in silence for a moment.
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror.
Amber Littlewood was leaving the café.
Several wolves on the street turned to look at her.
Sam whistled quietly.
“I will say one thing.”
Anthony did not open his eyes.
“What?”
“She is definitely the most beautiful candidate so far.”
Anthony sighed again.
“Beauty is not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Anthony turned his head toward his friend.
“Could you live with someone who irritates you?”
Sam thought for a moment.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How irritating they are.”
Anthony stared out the window.
“Amber spoke for fifteen minutes without stopping.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was.”
Sam shrugged.
“Then find someone quieter.”
Anthony shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Explain.”
Anthony hesitated.
Then he spoke quietly.
“You know the only person who would not irritate me.”
Sam immediately understood.
“Your mate.”
Silence filled the car.
After a moment Sam sighed.
“But we both know that won’t happen.”
Anthony said nothing.
His curse had been part of his life for as long as he could remember.
The elders had explained it when he was still a child.
A rare blood curse.
A wolf born without the ability to recognize a mate.
Without the instinct that bound two souls together.
Without the bond every other wolf took for granted.
Sam spoke again.
“You don’t have a mate.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened.
“So you choose the next best option.”
Anthony looked at him slowly.
“And what is that?”
Sam shrugged.
“Someone you don’t hate.”
Anthony laughed quietly.
“That is a very low standard.”
“It’s realistic.”
Sam kept his eyes on the road.
“Choose someone you won’t mind sleeping beside at night.”
Anthony closed his eyes.
That was the problem.
He did not want a woman simply to fill the empty space in his bed.
He did not want a political agreement disguised as marriage.
He did not want endless conversations about charity programs and social influence.
He wanted something else.
Something impossible.
Something his curse had stolen from him before he was even born.
Sam glanced at him again.
“What?”
Anthony exhaled slowly.
“I don’t need love.”
Sam smirked.
“No?”
Anthony shook his head.
“But it would be nice…”
He paused.
“…to feel something other than irritation.”
The car continued down the road.
The city slowly disappeared behind them.
Ahead, the tall buildings of the university began to rise above the trees.
Sam glanced toward them.
“You have another meeting there?”
“Yes.”
“With the dean?”
Anthony nodded.
Sam smiled faintly.
“Maybe the next candidate will be waiting there.”
Anthony snorted.
“Unlikely.”
He looked out the window again.
Students crossed the campus lawns.
A few wolves carried books toward the library.
Anthony watched them without interest.
Until suddenly—
A small figure with red hair stepped through the library doors.
Florence Drake.
Anthony blinked once.
Then he looked away again.
He did not know why his mind suddenly became quieter.
But for the first time all morning…
He felt slightly less irritated.
- Writer
