The curse of the wolf

Refusing his gift

*Griff*

I am drawn to her like a burning star towards a black hole. Like the poor moth to the deadly flame. It is a physical feeling, something I can hardly fight, something I do not want to fight to be honest. I long to be near enough to feel her presence, to breathe in her delicious scent. Like the star and the moth I would let her swallow me up or burn me to ashes just to be near her.

She looks absolutely stunning in, what is no doubt, a new red dress, but also slightly uncomfortable. She is clearly not used to being the center of attention.

As I approach, she is all I have eyes for. I know that her dreadful fiance is there, along with the horrible Mr Chenot and Mayor Dufour, but I pay them no attention.

“Oh, Marque de Anjou”. Mr Chenot says in a tone dripping with sleazy idolisation. “Let me introduce you, this is….”

“The absolutely stunning Miss Bellerose,” I say, taking her hand and kissing it. The connection sends my Wolf into a frenzy. “It is an absolute pleasure meeting a true French heroine.”

Mr. Chenot looks slightly confused. “Yeah… Uh Miss Bellerose, this is Constantine d’Anjou, marque to Anjou, and an avid supporter of our cause… and a friend.”

The first part is not completely true, the second is a flat out lie, mostly because I can smell the bad on him, but I am not in the mood to call him out on it right now. I am happy to focus on my little mate, who is glancing at me, pink roses blooming on her cheeks.

“It is an honor meeting you, sir.” Her bastard fiance says, holding out his hand to me. He looks so eager that I kind of feel like ignoring him, just for the fun of it. But it would embarrass her as well, and that is the last thing I want to do.

“I am sure the pleasure is all yours,” I say, smiling as I shake his hand, making sure to tighten my grip just a bit more than actually needed. I know it is silly, but I guess I can put it down to testosterone… or probably, in my case, my wolf.

He is just smiling like an i***t, clearly not getting what I actually said. “Thank you, sir.”

Anaïs is looking at me with absolute bewilderment, like she can’t decide if I am somehow crazy, or if maybe everybody here is playing a joke on her. The truth is definitely closer to the first option.

“So you are a Marque? An actual real one?” She says, like she half expects me to start laughing and tell her she has been punked. Her expression is utterly endearing.

“I am afraid so, yes,” I tell her with a small chuckle. “At least last time I checked, I was both very much real and also a Marque.”

Her blush deepens, and I can’t help but wonder if it is just her face, or if the color creeps down over her chest. Stop it Griff, this is not the time and place to think about her boobs.

“The Marque has generously donated the special prize.” Mr Chenot tells her. He seems desperate to get the attention back on him.

“Special prize.” Her fiance asks, looking surprised. “I was not told about a special prize.”

I try not to let my feelings for him show in my smile, but I fear it is slightly condescending, nonetheless. “Because it was my decision and made after the invitation was sent… I feel Miss Bellerose deserves a show of appreciation for her bravery.”

“It is most generous… twenty thousand euro,” the sleazy little man says, like he is somehow responsible for it.

“Twenty…,” Anaïs is gaping at me, looking mostly like she is about to scold me. For some reason, her expression pleases me immensely.

Her fiance wraps his arm around her shoulder and I feel an instant desire to rip the arm from its socket and beat him with it. “Imagine what I can do with that money.”

“I can’t accept that,” she says, shaking her head lightly. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Of course you can,” the man undeservingly holding her says. “Of course she can.”

Before I can stop myself, I step up, placing a hand on her cheek, “You do deserve it, don’t sell yourself short.”

Her fiance is glaring daggers at me, but I couldn’t care less. She is gazing into my eyes and her attention is all that matters.

“Should we get the show on the road?” The mayor asks, his tone that of a nervous mouse.

I reluctantly remove my hand from her cheek. “Let’s do that.”

*Anaïs*

I am standing to the side by myself, looking out on the city lights, and enjoying the warmth from one of the heaters that has been put up so all the fancy guests won’t freeze.

Mathis is talking to a couple of investment bankers he hopes to impress. He might also be a bit angry with me for passing on the Marque’s check to a charity that helps the families of the victims of the terrorist.

And speaking of the marque, or Griff as I keep thinking of him, he suddenly seems to materialize from the shadows, and comes to stand in front of me.

“It was very unexpected that you did not accept my gift,” He says. There is a teasing twinkle in his eyes and something sounding like amusement in his voice. “Some might even call it bad manners.”

“You and I both know I did not deserve the money. That I do not deserve any of this,” I tell him. I do not feel any resentment from him, but I am still a bit unsure of what to say. “The families of the victims deserve them a lot more.”

He reaches out, taking my hand in his much larger one. I instantly realize that his skin seems unusually warm. Not like he has a fever, but in a comforting way. Had it been like that last time? Maybe I just didn’t notice because of everything else occupying my mind.

“Of course you deserved it. I saw how you saved the little boy when you could have cared only for yourself like most did and run.” His thumb is drawing a small circle on my skin, sending delicious chills through me. “But it was a great thing you did passing the check on.”

My eyes scan his face. I am unsure what to make of him. Also, something bugs me. “How are you? I mean, you must have been quite badly injured. How are you already healed?”

“I am fine, it was just a few scratches,” he says with a small smile, like it is a joke only he gets. “How are you doing? It must have been traumatic.”

“I am okay,” I mumble. There is something about how those dark eyes burn into me that makes me swallow and almost forget how he once again turned the focus from him and back to me. “The worst part is actually lying, having to pretend to be a hero, when you were the real hero. Why are you hiding it?”

Something I can’t quite read flashes through his dark eyes. It feels like so many feelings fighting to burst forth, anger, sadness, pride and even a dash of fear. It confuses me.

“It is just easier this way. I do not need the attention it would bring with it,” he says, shaking his head lightly.

“And you think I do?” I can’t seem to tear my eyes from his. For some reason they spark a desire to study them intently, to try to find the pieces to solving the puzzle this man is.

His free hand comes up, a single finger skimming along my jawline, making my breath catch and heat erupt inside me. “You deserve everything, Anaïs, you just don’t realize it.”

I swallow, trying desperately to find the right words to say, but my mind feels like a pot of melted cheese and all the words seem stuck in it.

“You need to be careful, ma belle,” he says in a tone that is soft but has an edge of urgency. “The world hides more than it reveals.”

Before I can ask him what he meant, he is gone, melting into the crowd. My hand and cheek where he had been touching me suddenly feel so cold without his skin against mine.

“Darling,” I hear Mathis’ voice behind me and turn to see him wave me over. “There are some people here I want you to meet.”

I sigh and put on the best smile I can manage, walking over. “Sure, it would be my pleasure.”

But my thoughts remain with the mysterious marque and his ominous warning.