Wicked lessons from the Luna

Facing off

*Mathilda*

I can’t deny that the Beta has excellent taste in horses. The two chestnut bays pulling the gleaming black open carriage obviously come from good stock. It had taken everything within me not to approach them and give them an affectionate pat when I first spied them. Just as now, it is with great difficulty that I don't reach across to Rexton, sitting on the seat opposite my sister and myself, to pat that muscular thigh of his outlined so provocatively by his taut breeches.

Damn if the man isn't gorgeous with his strawberry-golden curling locks and his blue eyes the shade of a winter sky promising snow and the need for warm fires. My heart trips over itself at the thought of this sensual and s****l man taking my sister to bed. With his heated gaze, he appears far too wise, too experienced, too knowledgeable in the ways of she-wolves.

He sits there like some large predatory tiger, considering how tasty a morsel his prey might be. I can’t imagine him ordering a she-wolf to simply lie still and endure what is to come. Nor could I imagine a she-wolf being able to remain unaffected if he pressed those firm, full lips against her skin.

Something flickers in his heated gaze, and I am left with the uncomfortable sensation that he is able to read my thoughts, that he knows the errant path they travel. My cheeks warm, and I curse inwardly, jerking my gaze to the passing buildings as we make our way to the park. What is wrong with me to have such lurid images flashing through my mind? I want to spare Gina the shame of the marriage bed, even as I find my own skin tightening and something closely resembling desire coursing through me.

I fully understand how any she-wolf might fall at this one's feet. Or at least I assume they might. His exploits certainly aren't reported on in the gossip sheets, so he is no doubt discreet in his affairs, unlike my previous husband. If Downie had been more circumspect, perhaps I wouldn't have been required to stage an encounter that would force him, along with his obnoxious pride, to divorce me.

“You must have been a child when you married.”

The deep voice shimmers through me, my reaction wrong on so many levels. Tilting up my chin, I meet his gaze, surprised to see true curiosity reflected there. “I married on the day I turned nineteen.”

"You can't have been married very long.” He says.

“Long enough to lose any semblance of youth.”

Three years. The process of obtaining a divorce had been a long, arduous, tortuous affair. Before its completion a little over nine months ago, I had marked my twenty-fifth year. Reaching for my sister's hand, I squeeze it. “I know the trials and tribulations of marriage, which is the reason I will not let anyone who is undeserving of Gina marry her.”

“And you've already deemed me undeserving.” He says.

To my utter mortification, I have. This man would not do for my sister; would not do at all. He is far too mature, too knowing. I am not going to allow a man of such boldness and daring to have Gina. “To be quite honest, my Beta, she is so innocent that I do think a less worldly man might serve her better.”

“And you judge me worldly?” He asks.

“Are you not?” I say raising a brow.

A corner of his mouth hitches up slightly. “I have never had a she-wolf complain.”

I know his thoughts are traveling the same path as mine... toward the bedchamber. It is all men really want once they have the dowry. Downie hadn't been able to get me out of my clothes fast enough. But then once he had me, he grew bored. Another truth I had learned about men: they easily grow weary of their bedmates. For them, it is the lure of the conquest, but they have no desire to hold for long that which they have obtained. Greener pastures and all that.

Gina deserves a man who will stay on his side of the fence. Surely a deep and profound love could keep him there. I force myself to hold Rexton’s gaze. "You're not doing much to convince me that you and my sister would suit."

“It might be helpful if you share with me the requirements you seek.” He says.

“So you can pretend to possess them?” I ask.

He holds out his arms as though surrendering. “When it comes to the ladies, I have no reason to pretend. I have always found honesty in relationships to serve me well.”

"Then you should have no fear of being found lacking while courting Gina." I point out.

He chuckles low, provocatively. “Being found lacking has never been a fear.”

Before I can stop it, my gaze dips to his lap, lower. I jerk my attention back to the passing scenery but not before I see his satisfied smirk.

No, he won’t do at all for Gina.

I would always see innuendo in his eyes, read it in his face, hear it in his voice. What does it matter? As soon as Gina is wedded, I suspect I will never see him again.

"Why didn't you return to the Western Lands?" He asks.

I hate the inquisition. He should be talking with Gina, not me. Yet I feel compelled to respond. “Gina adores it here. I couldn't very well leave her here alone.”

But I will leave... Once Gina is married. My sister doesn’t understand how much I despise it here, how difficult it is to live with the constant shunning and isolation. Another reason I need to ensure the man who marries Gina will be protective of my sister. Even as I have that thought, I can’t imagine Rexton not safeguarding what he views as his.

Perhaps he would make an excellent choice for Gina, after all.

"When I marry a ranked man,” Gina says, “everyone will have to welcome you back into pack Society, Tillie. Then we can attend balls together.”

Reassuringly, I pat my sister's hand. “I'm sure you're quite right.”

But I see the truth reflected in Rexton’s blue eyes. Pack Society will never welcome me back.

I had moved into their circles only to bring mortification to one of their own. The divorce is bad enough, but an affair with a servant... Although, if I hadn't been seen kissing a servant, I wouldn't be divorced. Moonsdowne had viewed me as property, and the law had given him the right to do so. My father had been too ill to help me get out of the unconscionable situation in which I had found myself. Miserable doesn't begin to describe it. So I had taken care of the matter myself.

"I'm afraid I have never been one for keeping up with society gossip. How long were you married?" He asks.

I give him a pointed look. “I'm the chaperone. You really should be directing your questions toward the she-wolf you're courting.”

That wicked grin again, the one that says he knows what I am about, striving to deflect his attention away from me. “How long was your sister married?” He asks Gina.

Gina opens her mouth...

“That's not what I meant,” I respond quickly, with acerbity, not bothering to hide my irritation. “You should be asking Gina questions about herself. Or perhaps you are not truly interested in her, but in her money. In spite of what you say about not needing it.”

He angles his head down slightly in acquiescence, although I couldn't see this man bowing down before anyone. Even if he gives the appearance of giving in, I suspect he will be working out how to get even, how to regain the upper hand. “You're quite right, Miss Halfmoon.”

“Please, you must call me Gina. I hate formality." She says.

“It can be rather tedious,” he admits.

“But necessary,” I say insistently. "Gina, you do not give a gentleman leave to call you by your given name until you have an understanding between you."

She smiles. “The understanding is that he need not be so formal.”

“It sends an improper message.” I mumble.

“And you would know all about improper messages, would you not, my Luna?” Rexton asks pointedly.

“I would take care, Beta Rexton, if you wish to impress upon me your favorable merits when it comes to courting Gina.”

He studies me for three full heartbeats, during which time I suspect he is striving to determine if what he gains by pushing me is worth the price he will pay for doing so.

Finally, he turns away from me. “So, Miss Halfmoon, tell me what you value in a mate.”

I have won. I wonder why I take so little satisfaction from it.

"Someone who is kind, generous. Someone who makes me happy.” She says.

“What makes you happy?” He asks.

It is a good question, one Moonsdowne had never asked me. Although if he had, I doubt I would have said, ‘A man who is faithful.’ I had thought it was a given. I had thought a lot of things were a given. Devotion, attending affairs together, carrying on conversations during meals, always living in the same residence... not only during the mating Season when we were in Blackrock City but throughout the year.

Gina gives a joyful sigh. “Pretty dresses. A generous allowance. Chocolates."

I want to shake my sister. None of those things create happiness. Oh, they might lighten her mood for a few minutes, but they don't leave one happy for long. Chocolates disappear, allowance dwindles, and dresses fade. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Rexton gives very little reaction, but he seems equally unimpressed by my sister's musings.

"Surely you require more than that,” he says flatly, without judgment or censure.

"I'm relatively easy to please.” He says.

“A she-wolf shouldn't be.”

His words surprise me. Does he truly believe that? Does he not want a biddable female? What is the game he plays? I give up trying to appear as though I am not looking at him and stare at him directly. “Why would you seek to make your courtship more difficult?” I blurt out, truly curious.

He shifts his attention to me. “Not more difficult. More challenging. There is a difference.”

“She's offering an easy road. Why not take it?” I ask.

“Because it would bring me no pleasure.” He responds.

That is when I know the Beta of Rexton is a man who likes to win, who thrives on competition. And who seeks pleasure in all aspects of his life. Pleasure, danger, and gratification. If he hadn't been born into the high packs, if he hadn't been born into wealth, influence, and privilege, if he had been born into a hardscrabble life in the Western Lands, he would have been the sort to forge an empire, to carry others on his back, to stand his ground, to never back down. I am not at all pleased at the way that knowledge makes it difficult for me to draw in breath, makes me consider how fortunate any she-wolf would be to stand beside him.

“What should I require, my Beta?” Gina asks, obviously oblivious to all the messages the man across from her is sending, to the turmoil wreaking havoc within me.

“Love.”

He says it so simply, as though it is easily given, easily received.

“Most men avoid love like the plague,” I feel obligated to point out, hating the resentment lacing through my voice. Liking even less his slow perusal, as though he can see the tiny fissures where my heart had cracked day after day, night after night until I had feared it would shatter into nothing. If he asks me about Moonsdowne, about our marriage, about my relationship with him, I am going to leap from the carriage and march home. Why had I even intruded on the conversation? My role is one of silence and observation.

“Few men have grown up around the exemplary example I did,” he says quietly.

The breath I didn't even realize I had been holding eases out of me when he doesn’t take the conversation in the direction I had been dreading.

“Do your parents love each other?” Gina asks.

“Immensely. They taught me to never take it for granted, that if you are fortunate to possess it, you nurture it. I daresay, my father goes to sleep each night pondering what he can do upon awakening to ensure my mother is grateful he shares her life.” He says.

I raise a brow. “Does your mother do the same?”

“Love comes more easily to she-wolves, I think. It's more natural. Men have to work a bit harder at it, especially as we're not very demonstrative as a whole. So if you can snag a man's heart, Miss Halfmoon, the dresses, chocolates, and allowance will surely follow. You need not insist upon them.” He says

“Do you have any advice for snagging a man's heart?” Gina asks.

He smiles. “Be yourself.”

“But beware, sweeting,” I add. “For men seldom are.”

“You don't have a very favorable opinion of our gender,” Rexton says, his smile rueful.

“Prove me wrong, my Beta.” I challenge.

“I may just do that, Luna Moonsdowne.”

I do wish I had kept my mouth shut as I had never before had the sense I have just issued an irrefutable challenge which he has accepted with a challenge of his own… and if I am not careful, I could find myself losing not only my pride but discovering my heart, too, had been part of the wager.