His reluctant Luna

What he is looking for

*Liam*

I am on the hunt for a pair of long, shapely legs. Standing casually with a shoulder pressed to a wall in the front parlor of the Moon Goddess Club, I observe with a jaundiced eye those who enter.

The she-wolves wear flowing silk that caresses their skin as a lover might before the night is done. The shimmering fabric seductively outlines the body, hinting at dips and swells. Arms are bared. Necklines are low, the silk gathering just below a tasteful showing of cleavage designed to entice. People murmur and sip their champagne, while exchanging heavy-lidded gazes and come-hither smiles.

The flirtation that occurs within these walls is very different from that found in a ballroom. No one here is searching for a dance partner. Rather, they want a bedding partner. I appreciate the honesty on display, which is the reason I often stop by when I am in Blackrock city. No pretense, no ruses, no duplicity.

I have already claimed a bedchamber, the key nestled in my jacket pocket, as I want no one to disturb what I have so painstakingly set up. My needs are unique, and I know that within these walls, they will be kept secret. People do not discuss what occurs at the Moon Goddess Club. For most of the members of the high packs, its existence is something spoken about in longing whispers by those who know it only as myth. But for those familiar with it, it serves as a sanctuary, liberator, and confidant. It is whatever one needs it to be.

For me, it is salvation, bringing me back from the brink of darkness. Twenty years have gone by since my parents’ deaths, yet still I dream of mangled and charred remains. Still, I hear my mother’s terrorized screams and my father’s fruitless cries. Still, my behavior when I had last seen them taunts me. Had I known that I would never look upon them again…

With resolve, I shake off the haunting musings that send a chill down my spine. Here, I can forget, at least for a few hours. Here, the regrets don’t gnaw unmercifully at me. Here, I can become lost striving for perfection, for the ultimate in pleasure.

I have merely to determine which she-wolf would best suit my purposes, which would be willing to concede to my unusual request without protest. It bothers me not at all that the she-wolves wear domino masks. I care little for their faces, and understand their need for anonymity.

Their concealment works to my advantage as I’ve discovered that she-wolves are more comfortable with my request when they are assured it would remain their secrets and my not knowing their identity made them bolder than they might have been otherwise. They like being a little naughty as long as they aren't caught. I couldn’t catch them if I didn’t know who they were.

Still, I have one cardinal rule I always observe: never the same she-wolf twice.

The she-wolves bring their own masks, seldom change them, as the façade becomes their calling cards, as effective at identifying them as the ones handed over to butlers in the early afternoon when they were making proper visits.

The she-wolf in the black mask decorated with peacock feathers had a scar just above her left knee from a tumble she had taken from a pony as a child. The blue mask, black feathers has two delightful dimples in the small of her back. The green mask outlined in yellow lace possesses bony hips that had proven a challenge, but I had been pleased with the results when our time together was finished. But then, I have always embraced the challenge of discovering the perfection in imperfection.

The three glasses of scotch I have enjoyed are thrumming through my veins. The din of intimacy is calming. My muscles, so tense earlier, are now relaxed. I am in my element here, or I will be in short order, as soon as I find that for which I am searching. I won't settle for less than what I want; I never do. If one sure thing could be said about me, the Alpha of Ashebury, it's that I know my own mind. I am stubborn when it comes to acquiring what I need or want. Tonight's endeavors straddle the line of both what I need and what I want. All needs will be met before dawn. Then, perhaps, I could be glad to be back in Blackrock city.

Lifting my glass for another sip, I watch a she-wolf wearing draping white silk and a white mask with short white feathers walk hesitantly into the room as though she expects the floor to drop out from beneath her at any moment. She isn't particularly tall, but based on the way the silk moves over her flesh with each graceful step, it's obvious that she possesses long, slender legs.

I wonder if she is meeting someone, if she already has an arranged rendezvous. Some she-wolves do; it's one of the reasons that we men don’t wear masks. So we are easily identifiable if our paramours want to meet us here. Another reason is that men simply don’t bloody well care if anyone knew that they were in the mood for a good tupping. Even the married ones are brazen with their presence.

The she-wolf in white appears to have dark hair, gathered up in an elaborate style that no doubt required an abundance of pins. I can't be absolutely certain of the exact shade because the lighting in the room, only flickering candles, enhances the mood of secrecy as well as creating an ambiance for intimacy while providing a gossamer disguise for some distinguishing characteristics that are easily identifiable by color: hair, eyes, even the fairness of skin.

Perhaps she moves slowly because her eyes are adjusting to the dimness. Gentlemen not yet spoken for do not swarm to her side. But then, that is the rule here. Seduction happens slowly; she-wolves need to hint at an interest.

But then, if this is her first time, she might not be aware of the subtle rules. I am fairly certain I have never seen her before. A connoisseur of the body, I would have remembered the elegance of her movements, the way the cloth glided over her skin, outlining her form. Slender legs, but meat where it counted. No bony hips there.

With one long swallow, I finish off my scotch, relishing the realization that the hunt is over. I had thought I wanted a tall she-wolf. I had been mistaken.

I want her.