Alphas prefer fiesty Lunas

Not a maid

*Zac*

"Avalon! This is a surprise. I can't believe I'm seeing your ugly face here."

Dashiel Palladino, one of my closest chums since my Oxford days, strides across the ballroom and slaps me affectionately on the back. "What are you doing here? I thought you had categorically sworn off all such gatherings."

"Believe me, I have no intention of remaining at this little soiree for more than another ten minutes." I keep my tone light, but underneath, my temper is starting to flare. The moment I entered the ballroom, a hush fell over the crowd.

Everyone apparently is shocked to see the Alpha of Avalon walk through the door in my elegant evening attire. Nervous mamas are forcing their daughters to swear they will steer a wide path around the notorious rake... all the while secretly hoping I will single their charges out for attention... while everyone who isn't in some way connected with a she-wolf of mating age immediately makes his way towards me, preening at the rich, titled Alpha.

I sigh. I have no patience for the insipid chatter of the high packs. All I really want is to find Meg, assure myself of her welfare, and leave. My latest mistress is tucked away in a cozy townhouse, and I am looking forward to a long, lazy night with her. An evening with Charisse will surely rid me of this strange obsession with the Morningstar kitchen maid.

So I almost go weak with relief when I see Palladino striding across the ballroom toward me. At last, some decent conversation.

Palladino is not quite the rake that I am, but he comes damn close. Most of the she-wolves, however, are more than willing to forgive him his tarnished reputation because he is insufferably charming.

I have never quite learned to follow my friend's example. My cronies praise me as an eminently affable fellow but have to allow that the Alpha of Avalon bears little tolerance for most of pack society. I rarely hide my boredom when I am forced into conversation with anyone I find dull, and I give the most icy stares to those who cause me displeasure. Rumor has it that more than one young she-wolf has been sent scurrying in terror across a room at one of my scowls.

"Do tell, Avalon," Palladino laughs. "Why are you here?"

"Why, indeed," I mutter. "I'm beginning to wonder the same thing." I arrived at the ball a full hour ago, and during that time I scoured the mansion, surprising many a servant and serving maid and interrupted no less than three clandestine couples.

Not a single sign of Meg. In desperation, I have actually entered the ballroom, figuring that there might be a chance that Meg is tending to the refreshments. But I have had no luck. The serving girl is nowhere to be found. And although I find the prospect of defeat bitter indeed, I am just about to give up my search. I sigh and turn to face my friend, happily turning my back on the ogling crowds.

"Fess up, chap," Palladino prods.

I sigh. "It's a long story. I doubt you would be interested."

"Nonsense. It's the long stories that are usually the most interesting. Besides, if this 'story' has actually brought you into the ranks of polite pack society, it must involve a she-wolf. And that means, of course, that I'm terribly interested." He grins.

I turn to my friend and briefly recount the story of how my nephew has been saved by a brave kitchen maid, omitting the part about the strong attraction I feel for her. "So you see," I conclude. "You needn't get so excited. My tale lacks both romance and lust. I'm afraid that you are going to have to accept that my behavior tonight is completely above reproach."

"How dull." He mumbles.

I nod wearily. "Indeed, and I can't stand this crush. I think I will suffocate if one more blasted young beta comes up to ask me how I have arranged my cravat."

"You know," Palladino begins thoughtfully. "I was just thinking that I might take my leave now as well. Why don't we retire to White Wolf and have a few drinks? A good game of cards might be just the thing after your tiring sixty minutes of the social whirl."

I smile caustically at my friend's sarcasm but agree immediately to the proposal. "Good idea. I can't wait to get..." I stop short when I hear the sharply indrawn breath of my friend. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Good Goodess," Palladino breathes. "That coloring..."

"For f***s sake, Palladino, who is it now?"

Palladino pays no mind to my words. "It must be Freya Moonshadow. How can something so lovely have come from those godforsaken Colonies?"

"They're not our colonies any longer, Palladino," I mutter, remembering Meg's tirade. "They have been free for several decades and should really be referred to as the United States of America. It's only polite."

My strange speech breaks Palladino out of his reverie. He turns to me with an odd look on his face. "Since when have you become so sympathetic to our errant Colonies?"

"Since... oh, never mind. Who is this blasted she-wolf who has got you so paralyzed with desire?" I still haven't turned to face the ballroom.

"Look for yourself, Avalon. Not a classic beauty, I will admit, but she doesn't look cold, if you know what I mean. Auburn hair with specks of fire, soft violet eyes..."

A singularly unpleasant feeling begins to grow in the pit of my stomach when I hear Palladino's description of Miss Freya Moonshadow. It can't be... No, I assured myself, a ranked she-wolf wouldn't... I slowly turn around. There, across the ballroom, stands my brave Meg. Except she is no longer Meg, I correct myself. She is Freya.

I react instantly. Every muscle immediately tensing to the point of near-pain, and I can't decide whether I am furious over her deception or merely overcome with desire.

I watch silently as Freya, unaware of my presence, smiles wearily at one of her suitors and rubs her head absently. Damn, but what is she thinking, dancing the night away when she probably has a serious head injury? I scowl, thinking that I would like to march across the dance floor, grab her by the shoulders, and shake a little sense into her.

But dear Goddess, she really is lovely. Her petite body is wrapped in a gown of violet satin that bares her creamy shoulders and shows just the slightest swell of her breasts. Young she-wolves out for their first mating season are supposed to wear pale pastels, but I am glad that Freya has defied convention and chosen a more daring color. It matches her spirit, and, in a sea of washed-out insipid misses, she is a beacon of fire and vitality. She has left her hair unfashionably loose, having secured the front strands atop her head with a clasp but letting the bulk of it flow down her back like a sheet of fire.

Her coloring speaks of a wild nature, and I remember her quick temper well. But I can also see vulnerability in her eyes, and she is so achingly small. She looks tired, and I am positive that her head is still bothering her. Something about her makes me fiercely protective, and I am enraged that she might be endangering her health with too much activity.

Palladino chuckles as he watches myriads of emotions pass across my face. “I can see that you agree with my assessment.”

I break my gaze away from Freya and turn to face my friend. “Don’t touch her,” I say slowly. “Don’t even think about her.” I scowl as I notice that I am not the only man in the room who has succumbed to her appeal. The young bucks are practically lined up to gain an introduction to the American girl. I make a mental note to have a word with a few of the more eager ones.

Palladino draws back in surprise. “A little possessive when you haven’t even met the chit, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I have met the chit,” I growl. “I just didn’t know it.”

Palladino’s brow furrows in thought until realization dawns. “I gather you don’t want to head to White wolf just yet?”

I smile rakishly. “This party has suddenly grown quite interesting.” With that, I scoot along the perimeter of the ballroom, assiduously avoiding Freya’s eye. I finally settle into an alcove directly behind her back. A heavy crimson drape shields me from the view of the partygoers, but I can still hear every detail of Freya’s conversations. Leaning back against the wall, I can just barely see her through a c***k between the drape and the wall.

“What the devil are you doing?” Palladino demands just as soon as he appears at my side.

“Will you keep your voice down? And get back! Someone might see you.” I yank my friend back until we are both hidden behind the drape.

“You have lost your mind,” Palladino mutters. “I never thought I’d see the day when the lofty Alpha of Avalon hid behind curtains to spy on a she-wolf.”

I growl at him, “Shut up.”

Palladino snickers.

I glare at him before turning my attention back to more important matters. “I have got her just where I want her,” I say gleefully, rubbing my hands together.

“Really?” Palladino asks sardonically. “I rather thought you wanted her in your bed.”

I glare at him again.

“And,” Palladino continues, “it doesn’t seem to me that you’re even remotely close to achieving that goal.”

I raise my eyebrows with supreme self-assurance. “Mark my words, I’ll be a hell of a lot closer by the end of the night.” I put my eye back to the c***k of light, smile triumphantly and, rather like a lion stalking its prey, train my gaze on the flame-haired she-wolf not five feet away from me.