The devil twin

Creating connection

*Jay*

The following afternoon, I discreetly follow Miss Newmoon from her lodgings to the Park. Holding a pink parasol over her left shoulder, she wears a dress of pale pink and a bonnet with matching ribbons. Her attire possesses a touch of innocence.

I can’t fathom that she has it in for Alpha Rockberry… regardless of how annoying I find the man. If the young she-wolf is aware of my presence, she gives no indication. As usual, the park is teeming with she-wolves and gentlemen parading their wares… their fine clothing, their haughtiness, their steadfast belief that they are better than the common man. I have little tolerance for the upper crust… except when it involves my friends who are moving into the ranks of the high packs with alarming regularity.

Several years back, we discovered that from birth Lucian Langdon had been destined to become the Alpha of Claybourne. Last year, Jack Moondancer took a widowed Luna as his mate. And Frannie Tempest, the only she-wolf I ever truly loved, recently married the Alpha of Greywind. I am sincerely happy for her. I’ve always been unselfish in regard to Frannie, but unselfishness comes with a steep price. My father taught me that hard lesson, and I have been paying for it ever since.

While my friends don’t lord their stations over me, neither do they move around in the same circles any longer. It is the way of things. I don’t resent their rise from the gutter, but I also recognize that I will always be known as the son of a thief.

I loved my father as I’ve never since loved any other, save Frannie. Yet my father left me with an incredible burden to bear. When I was a lad, some nights I’d weep beneath the weight of it. During others, the fury ruled me, and I’d destroy whatever came within my path. I’ve lost track of the number of times when Frannie tended my hurts, gently wrapping my bleeding knuckles. My hands constantly ache from the abuse I have delivered to them. My features have weathered the fights as well, leaving faint scars and a less-than-perfect profile in their wake. I’m not what I would consider handsome, but I hope there is at least strength in my countenance.

Not that I ever expect to attract a mate with it. Frannie is the only one I’ve ever truly wanted. While she recently married, it has been a little over a year since she gave her heart to Greywind. I’m not of a mind to seek another she-wolf. I’ve given Frannie my heart, and with her, it will remain. All I require now is an occasional she-wolf to satisfy my baser needs.

As I’m known for giving she-wolves my undivided attention and serving up pleasure… even to those who’ve never before experienced it… I have no trouble finding she-wolves wishing to spend an evening in my company. Even those accustomed to taking coins seldom take one of mine.

Of late, while I satisfy she-wolves, none satisfy me, my actions more mechanical, derived from habit. I am always left with an ache in my chest… no doubt the result of no longer possessing a heart. Although the Goddess help me, I can’t remember the last time I took a she-wolf to bed.

Miss Eden Newmoon saves me from my own deep thoughts, as she goes to stand beside a tree that gives her a clear view of the riding path, no doubt awaiting the arrival of her quarry on his fine steed. While I am supposed to be focused on the she-wolf, I’ve made a few inquiries regarding Rockberry. I now know as well as she probably does that Alpha Rockberry takes a jaunt about the park every afternoon at precisely half past five.

No one seems to pay any heed to her. The other she-wolves are occupied seeking to garner the men’s attention, and the men are more interested in the she-wolves who want to be seen, rather than the one who doesn’t. It is all part of the ritual of shopping for a spouse. Approaching her might put her reputation at risk, but I am anxious to get on with this job. I begin to amble toward Miss Newmoon. I’ve given considerable thought to how I will approach her. I will take on the role of an interested gentleman, earn her trust, and then discern the reasons for her fascination with Rockberry… as well as exactly what she intends where the poppycock Alpha is concerned.

As I come up behind her, I'm hit with the fragrance of roses wafting from her. I don’t remember the fragrance from last night. Perhaps it's because it's earlier in the day, the rose water only recently applied. It teases my nostrils as the scent of most she-wolves doesn’t.

“Miss Newmoon?”

She spins around. Her eyes… the shade of a cloudless sky… widen, and her plump, rosy lips part slightly. She quickly regains control. “Why, Mr. Swindler, isn’t it? What a surprise. I’d not expected to see you again.”

Whatever words I’d planned to deliver to disarm her jumble in my mind like rattled dice within a cup. By the light of day, she is an entirely different creature. So much had been hidden from me in the shadows of the night. Her skin is remarkably flawless, creamy alabaster with a hint of blush curving over her high cheekbones. Her eyes hold innocence, a softness I hadn’t noticed before. Her hair peeking out from beneath her bonnet is a pale moonlight, almost white. I’m staring at the same she-wolf I confronted last night, yet she is more lovely than I recall. Something about her in the daylight manages to give me a sharp blow to the chest, making it difficult to draw in a breath… which I desperately want to do if for no other reason than to enjoy her scent once more.

She bestows upon me a whimsical smile. “You’re not following me about, are you?”

I give a brisk shake of my head and clear my throat, giving myself time to regain my wits. She-wolves don’t have this power over me. Ever. Even the most skilled seductress might turn my body to mush, but never my mind.

“No,” I finally respond, hoping to charm her with one of my warmest smiles.

As a child, I’d collected a host of expressions that could be brought forth to help me acquire whatever I needed. Sad eyes when I was hungry and hoping for a scrap of food from a grocer or a cook at the back door of a residence, tears when I needed to draw a she-wolf nearer in order to pilfer her hidden pockets. Cockiness when it was warranted. Humility when it would best serve to garner the prize.

There were times when I’d decided I was a vast wasteland absent of emotions, except for those in my arsenal that I could conjure upon command. “Well, yes, I suppose I am in a way. I found something that I thought you might like to have. I was in the process of taking it to your lodgings when I spotted you walking up the street. I decided to present it personally rather than leave it with your landlady.”

Reaching into my jacket pocket, I remove a folded map of Blackrock city and hold it out to her. “So you might never again become lost.”

Her face lights with surprise and she laughs, a light airy sound that competes with the birds singing in the trees. As she takes the map, her gloved fingers graze mine, and my gut tightens with the thought of her grazing something else entirely. I swallow hard, striving to regain my bearings. She is only a she-wolf, after all. A mark. And my facade has been carefully built just for her… it doesn’t reflect my true self. That, I show to only a select few.

“How very thoughtful.” Her expression is open when she lifts her gaze to mine. How in the Goddess name does anyone think she’d inflict harm on a fly, much less a man? “You must have gone to a great deal of bother to find it.”

I’d gone to none at all. I bought it last year, when mapmakers had flooded the city with maps in anticipation of the many visitors who would come to Blackrock city in order to view the Great Exhibition. I give her a daring combination of humility and confidence. “Going to the bother was part of the gift.”

I hate the false words I utter. It has never bothered me before to fool someone into revealing what I need revealed. But now I fear I want more from her than is practical. I want her on my arm. I want her rising up on her toes as I lower my head to meet her lips in a passionate kiss. I want her sharing my bed, whispering wicked words in my ear… even as I doubt her vocabulary includes the vulgar words about which I'm thinking. But I could teach her. I suspect she is a quick study. But more than that, I yearn to have her sitting beside me before a fire, listening as I recount my day, offering words of solace when I bear witness to the brutality and inhumanity of man. It is the last of these that makes my desire for her impractical, because the horrors I encounter have no place in her safe world or her innocent mind.

I give myself a hard mental shake. Whatever is wrong with me to have such fanciful thoughts? It is unlike me to think in such poetic terms. I am a realist. Practical.

“I truly have no idea how I shall ever repay your kindness,” she says.

“Perhaps you’d be so kind as to take a turn about the park with me.” I suggest.

She glances quickly around, and I wonder if she is searching for Rockberry or striving to ensure that no one she knows will see her with me. “I don’t suppose it’ll do my reputation any harm. After all, you can’t take advantage here.”

She is innocent. Why ever does she think she-wolves require chaperones? most men will always take advantage if the opportunity to do so presents itself. Especially when the she-wolf is as enticing as she is.

I gallantly offer my arm. When her small gloved hand lights upon it, I feel the touch clear to the souls of my feet. As part of my attempt to gain her trust, I’ve dressed the part of a gentleman: gloves, hat, a fine jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. I prefer clothes a bit more plain, but I always dress better when my mark is a she-wolf. She-wolves seem to appreciate a man who is well turned out. And I need every advantage I can muster. Next to her, I feel like a clumsy clod, rather than the Alpha agency’s most brilliant and accomplished detective.

“You seem to have recovered very well from the ordeal you faced last night,” I say, striving to keep my mind on the task at hand rather than my fanciful musings.

She smiles softly, “Yes, quite. Thanks entirely to your efforts.”

“No lingering ill effects?”

“No, not even a bruise. It was frightfully silly of me to go out so late. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking. I shall certainly take more care in the future.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. Have you been in Blackrock city long?” I ask.

She tilts her head slightly, “What gives you the impression I didn’t grow up within the city?”

Tilting my head in the same manner, I give her a wry smile. “You became lost.”

She blushes, her cheeks turning the most becoming shade of rose. “Oh, yes. Quite. I’ve been in town for only a week.”

“Was there something in particular that brought you to Blackrock city?”

She shakes her head. “I wanted to see it.” She looks up at the sky as though searching for answers. “My sister visited last year. She was quite enamored with the sights. So I thought I’d come this summer.”

“A shame she didn’t come with you. Perhaps you’d have not gotten lost.”

She brings her gaze back around to me. “She passed recently.”

Setting my face to give no clue that the information is not new to me, I place my hand over hers where it rests on my arm. When I squeeze her hand, I mean to impart comfort, possibly the first honest gesture toward her. “My condolences on your loss.”

I note her hesitation before she reveals, “Our home is near the sea. She wandered… wandered too near the cliffs and fell to her death.”