Fated to my Timebound Mate(Breeder#7)

Chapter 2 : Rejected

*Lucas*

A pothole almost unseated me as my chauffeur, Ian, navigated us back toward my mansion on a hill from our stop at the post office.

“Ian, a little slower, please?" I said with a wince, pretty sure that last one was going to bruise my ass.

Not that it would be the only bruise on my body. I reached up and touched my cheek once more.

Sasha f*****g Wentley.

She packed a lot more of a punch now than I remembered her having as a kid, but she was still as feisty as ever.

A smile tugged at my lips, but I quickly covered it with a cough as Ian peered at me in the rearview mirror.

Mirrors were going to be the death of me.

When I'd snagged her deep, navy eyes at Nostalgia, I could hardly believe I was seeing her again after all this time. Sure, she'd become curvier in some places, places I couldn't help but notice as I approached her and her friend at the bar. With a tight skirt and a push-up bodice that was completely strapless, showing off miles and miles of fair skin, it was impossible not to notice. I was a red-blooded Lycaon male, after all.

She iced me out immediately, which was disappointing, but I guess at my twenty-seven to her twenty, I'd had more time to get over the past–seven years, to be exact.

I really should have found a new direction, and a different tight-dressed target, when her eyes telegraphed “f**k off" at me in that mirror. But her lavender scent was too tempting, too intoxicating to be ignored.

A whiff or two would be fine, I'd decided. I'd even contented myself with ignoring her, as she'd wanted, and talking with her friend. I could still breathe her in.

Sasha thwarted my carefully laid plan when she stood to go to the ladies' room, however. I'd gotten a few lungfuls of that sweet lavender, but not nearly enough when she slid off her barstool and stomped away.

And then that asshole....

That asshole–he dared touch what was....

I didn't finish that sentence in my mind. I didn't want to suspect something that was truly unbelievable and very, very poorly timed.

But when that bastard laid his grimy hand on her, the puppy was gone and replaced by my wolf. And he was pissed off.

I was surprised the whole bar hadn't heard my growl, crowded or not.

Then he'd started pushing her back into the darkest corner of the hallway, no doubt to do some dark deeds, and I lost it. I lunged, grabbed, and smacked faster than the fat asshole could stop his beer gut from jiggling.

The way my wolf was howling with rage, he was lucky I hadn't shifted right then. An ache had started in my bones, my wolf trying to come out to rip the i***t's throat out. Luckily, I'd had my temperamental wolf long enough to know how and when to get him to back down.

Still, my wolf whined as I let the bastard walk away.

That left Sasha staring at me, and me staring at Sasha.

I hadn't expected hugs and kisses but… she slapped me. What the hell was that for?

The question died in my throat as those large eyes, deep and wide and blue as any ocean, bore into mine, challenging and fierce.

Her soulful blue eyes had always been one of my favorite features of hers. They were as sharp as a knife, and they spoke volumes without her ever saying a word.

They pierced into mine, seeing through me and any number of facades I could have thrown in front of her, daring me to respond in kind. But my wolf was a cub in the palm of her hands. Damnit.

Her scent wrapped around me and all I wanted to do was breathe the same air as her. It was a risk to reach up and push her hair behind her ear, but well worth it to see a hint of warmth break the cold death glare she held on me.

I lowered my hand with a sigh. I wasn't going to be seeing the girl again anyway, so it shouldn't matter. But my inner wolf was still licking his wound.

Personally, I'd been shocked, but now I was just amused. I wondered whether, if Sasha were old enough to have a wolf, hers would be all preening and smug right now.

Hell, I wondered if Sasha herself was all preening and smug right now.

Another pothole had me glaring at the rearview mirror, but this time, Ian did not meet my eyes. I could see his lips twitching, though, and it added to my foul mood.

I growled in warning, then turned my attention to the pile of mail next to me. It was so big, it was being held in place by a length of twine. Such was the life of a royal official.

Complaints would be the bulk of the pile, I knew, probably more than a few about the very potholes we kept hitting. You couldn't be a Royal Engineer without getting complaints about infrastructure. I was tempted to slit the twine with a claw and start getting the pain over with, but the way the expensive sedan was jostling, I decided it would be better to open it at home instead of collecting scattered letters from all over the car.

I blew out a frustrated breath and leaned my head back on the seat, closing my eyes. This new library project occupied the bulk of my time, thank the Moon Goddess, but there was no shirking my other duties. Sleep had become a luxury, and just as I was about to grab some of it, Ian stopped the car.

“We're here, sir," the graying chauffeur said.

I blinked, looking out the window.

I'd designed my home myself in a modern, yet cozy style. How I'd managed to make it look cozy at its large size was a marvel of modern engineering, and, I thought proudly, a testament to my engineering skills. Sunlight glinted off of tan brick and tall windows. Ivy was just starting to creep up the sides from where I'd planted it.

It was home, and I felt a great weight slide off my chest just looking at it.

Ian cleared his throat, and I realized he'd already gotten out of the driver's seat and come around to open my door.

“You really are a pain in the ass, Ian," I grumbled, stepping out.

Ian grinned. “I know, sir."

I shook my head, stomping across the cobblestone to the front door. But inwardly, I was chuckling.

The door swung in to reveal a large foyer of stone tile floor and a sweeping, curved staircase. I walked right past the staircase, past the wide living room, and into the modern kitchen.

I dropped the mail on the counter with a loud thud, startling my vampire and best friend roommate, Brady, as he sat at the table eating cornflakes. Thanks to a serum synthesized from the blood of the White Queens, vampires no longer needed to drink blood. It still gave me a bit of a tickle to see him eating things like cornflakes, snack cakes, and pizza, though.

“Problems?" Brady groused at me, pushing his bowl aside.

“Aren't there always?" I grunted, finally elongating a claw and slashing through the twine holding my mail together.

As expected, it spilled across the counter, carrying with it all manner of correspondence.

I sighed and started sorting.

One second Brady was at the table, and the next, he was leaning over my shoulder, taking in the voluminous stack. “You got all this in two days?"

I jumped and glared at him. “Will you stop that?"

Brady grinned unrepentantly. “Nope."

“Of course not." It was Brady's second favorite hobby, scaring the crap out of me with his creepy, silent vampire movements.

His first....

“Don't you have some girl waiting for you in your bedroom?" I prompted.

“Not right now," was his annoying response.

Great. Now I had to open my mail with a running commentary.

I decided to bite the bullet and start on the pile of complaints. As expected, there were more than a few about the potholes, as well as many from ordinary shop owners and citizens about plumbing, electricity, water quality, and the like. City water was purified and just fine. Outside the city, however, it was still a bit hit-and-miss as the kingdom continued to modernize and expand.

“Is this one really about redoing the palace steps because, and I quote, 'Mr. Nibbles is having a hard time climbing the stairs in his old age'?" Brady asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

The plea for Mr. Nibbles had even come with a photo of the small, aging black terrier, as though that would help persuade the Royal Engineers to demolish the palace steps. I wanted to bang my head on the counter.

“What's this?" Brady asked, moving on to the next pile, bored with the complaints.

I wished I had the luxury of just moving on from boring complaints, but I followed Brady's movements as he snatched a general report to the royal staff out of the middle of the second stack. The man's eyes were better than a hawk's.

We both sobered, looking at it.

Rogues had been spotted at the wild edge of civilization again, rogue Lycaons who believed any breach of the ancient borders was an attack on them and their way of life.

Sure, we tried to respect the ancient borders, keeping them to their side and us to ours, but as the borders of the kingdom expanded, we'd begun bumping heads with the rogues. This had led to some rather… violent… ends.

“You remember that poor bastard last week, the one who nearly lost his legs before they could get to him?" Brady asked.

I blew out a long breath. “I remember."

“This isn't getting any better. What does Alpha King Xander have to say about it?" Brady asked.

“Don't know yet."

But I would soon. As one of the engineers currently building at the wild edge, there would be no avoiding a serious conversation about rogues next week when I had an audience with the king.

“Well, keep me posted. Hey, that one says it's from the university. Think they've assigned you your college grunt yet?" Brady asked.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I think the term you're looking for is 'intern.'"

“Right, yeah, the official coffee runner, whatever," Brady said. This time, he didn't wait for me to open the envelope myself, quickly slitting it open and dumping the contents on top of the river of mail.

A letter of introduction slid out, followed by a resume and portfolio. I picked up the letter, completely ignoring the other two.

No… it couldn't be....

Hell, now my whole life was filling up with potholes....

“What?" Brady asked, noting my expression. “What is it?"

“A mistake, that's what it is, and one I need to tend to immediately," I said, crumpling up the letter and tossing it on the counter. I started making strides toward my office.

Brady unwrinkled the letter, then let out a bark of laughter so loud it shook the walls.

I grimaced and took the stairs two at a time, determined to get to the office before Brady could come to heckle me.

No such luck–the quick-as-lightning vampire was at my heels in seconds, still laughing his head off.

“Man," he chortled, “you just can't catch a break, can you?"

I growled, but Brady was unfazed. “I'm straightening this out with King Xander right now. There's no way in hell–no way."

“You could just turn the other cheek," Brady snickered.

I scowled at him, but that didn't keep him from bursting ahead of me into my office and taking a seat on the edge of my desk.

“Do you f*****g mind?!" I snarled.

“Nope," Brady said. “Wouldn't miss this for the world."

Muttering under my breath, knowing there would be no dislodging Brady, I pounded my fingers into the phone, calling King Xander's assistant for an immediate audience with the king.

On the one hand, Sasha would have to be quite gifted, and quite well-connected, to be put forward for this internship. Gifted, I could use. Angry and slap-happy–not a chance. As amusing as it might be to have her around to tease and bother, I took my career seriously.

No. No way was I exposing my project to the volatile, bitter machinations of that particular prospective intern.

No way.

Not Sasha f*****g Wentley.