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He could not think like that. He was here to claim his beloved.
He moved across the room, full of confidence. He’d let the magic guide him, take it as a sign of things to come for the evening. The ladies here were in the market for a monster. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Master Bow had gone over the dances with him, satisfied that he’d remembered enough to deem him ready for the Ball. One of the ladies caught his eye, and a smile spread across her face as he approached.
A few dances would do him some good. Warm him up. Make sure he was ready when it came time to claim his mate.
A flash of green caught his eye, and an all too familiar vanilla scent. His mouth watered so profusely that he was worried he drool on his jacket.
He had to find the fae. Now.
That was when he saw the coppery hair, the soft curls framing her face, and a sun-kissed cheek…
Wife.
He froze in the middle of the room, unable to do anything but watch her walk by. She was with another woman, one who made her laugh loudly and forget to notice everything else in the room, including him.
He wanted to howl. Stride over there and claim her.
But she didn’t know him like this. The Wesley she’d known operated with grace and dignity. Two things he wasn’t sure he had any longer.
The Wolven King operated on full feral need, primal hunger, and a need for—
The magic was gone. At first, it was a relief, his mind and body could be at peace, but…
Had the magic been with Phillipa, instead of the fae all along?
His instinct was to follow her. Show himself to her. She was here, at Her Majesty’s command, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her, in her gorgeous green gown and fancy hair, mating with another monster.
He couldn’t even think straight. There was no way he could go up to her like this. Drunk on her magic and not able to think about anything but claiming her.
He dropped to all fours, earning many the suspicious gaze in the room, and ran up the stairs.
ChapterSeven
Phillipa
No matter how much she loved spending time in her garden or learning fae traditions, Phillipa had missed the spectacle of a society event. She hadn’t let herself admit it before now.
But she did have a problem she had not considered until now. As she sat down for dinner between two handsome monsters—one a serpent, the other a minotaur—she had no idea how to explain why she was here if she had a husband.
“Greetings, my lady,” the serpent said.
“Hello. Have you been to the Ball before?” Phillipa asked, taking a sip of the sweet wine that had been poured for her.
“Many times.”
His answer surprised her. “None of the ladies here have pleased you enough for you to ask them for their hand?”
She gasped and looked at the table, realizing the serpent did in fact have hands. His body appeared to be human from the waist up. He wore a jacket and cravat. His hair was slicked back from his face, and where a human gentleman would have sideburns, he had scales. She would never be so uncouth as to peek under the table and see what he was wearing on the bottom. But was she ever curious.
The serpent grinned salaciously at her, like he could read her thoughts. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
“We’ve found many ladies who have pleased us immensely,” the minotaur said. “And I hope that they would report that we’ve also pleased them just as much.” He leaned in closer. “The countess has given us the most decadent suite, with a bed big enough to accommodate us both and a guest.”
Phillipa’s eyes widened. “That sounds very generous of her.”
“Generous is the word for it.” The serpent flicked his forked tongue. “We like to take care of our ladies in every way possible.”
The minotaur put his hand on Phillipa’s thigh. It took everything she had not to jump. Wesley had never been so forward with her, not even on her wedding night. Her body thrummed with excitement. She eyed the rest of the table nervously, to make sure her new friends weren’t causing a scene. She found beasts sticking their faces straight into platters of food. Other monsters had eyes only for their ladies.
