Ella
“Are you ready?” Sinclair asks, standing behind me in the mirror. I have to stop myself from staring at him. He’s dressed down from his standard suit, but somehow he looks even more gorgeous and intimidating than usual. In sleek black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows and unbuttoned to his sternum, he looks powerful and laid back at once.
“That depends, what do you think?” I reply, extending my arms to show him my dress and get his opinion. I’m wearing a sleek velvet dress in ink bottle green. When the dressmaker suggested velvet I was skeptical, but now that I see the finished product I can fully appreciate her vision. It’s simple but sophisticated, not to mention incredibly cozy.
“Hmm,” Sinclair replies, striding nearer. “I think you’re missing something.”
“Like what?” I ask, turning back to the mirror to study my reflection. My makeup and hair are done, I found matching heels despite the infinite challenges of matching uncommon dress colors, and I’ll wrap myself in my new coat (courtesy of Sinclair) before we leave.
“Like this.” He beams, pulling out a thin black jewelry box.
I look down at it in surprise. “For me?”
“And just who else do you think I would be buying jewelry for?” He teases.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “For all I know you have a girlfriend on the side.”
“Ella.” Sinclair’s impossibly deep voice sounds even richer than usual. “There isn’t anyone else.”
For some reason, this statement makes me feel more uncertain. It’s not like we’re in a relationship or have discussed not dating during the pregnancy to avoid scrutiny. It makes sense that he wouldn’t risk the campaign by seeing someone else when he’s supposed to be happily mated, but he’s expressly told me that everything will be different when he finds his second chance mate.
It seems strange that he should make such a firm assurance in this intimate way, it feels as though he’s blurring the line of our arrangement. The little voice in my head might not mind this, but my heart knows better, it isn’t safe.
Too late I realize Sinclair is watching me work through all these feelings, and he narrows his eyes at me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing.” I reply simply, nodding towards the box. “Can I see it?”
“I shouldn’t.” Sinclair states circumspectly. “I should make you tell me what you’re thinking first – but we don’t have time.” He sighs, flipping open the smooth black lid. Inside the box is a stunning silver necklace, dotted with diamonds and boasting a matching pair of earrings.
My jaw drops, and I try to cover my gaping with my hand. “Sinclair, this is gorgeous. But it’s much too extravagant, I can’t possibly accept it.”
“Of course you can.” He insists, turning my body back towards the mirror. I don’t know why, but I’m holding my breath as he drapes the necklace over my collar and secures it at my nape. My fingers immediately flutter over the opulent jewels. I can guarantee that I’ve never worn anything so fine in my entire life. “You see,” Sinclair says, beaming at my reflection. “It was made for you.”
“It’s incredible.” I answer honestly. “But I feel like an imposter.”
He frowns, furrowing his brow. “Why do you say that?”
“Maybe because I am one.” I reply, trying to tone down the sarcasm at the last minute. He’s been so sweet and generous, I don’t mean to take out my pregnancy angst on him.
“Ella, look at me.” He instructs, his tone gentle but brooking no argument.I don’t really want to obey, I find Sinclair’s penetrating gaze far too observant at the best of times, and sometimes I want to be able to sulk without my thoughts becoming public. “Now, trouble.” He chuckles, seeing my reluctance.
I do as he says, lifting my gaze to meet Sinclair’s emerald irises in the mirror. I feel like I might become hypnotized in their depths, but his expression is warm and open. “You might not be a she-wolf, but you are carrying my heir, and you are my date for the festival.” He slides his strong arms around my waist from behind, still staring at me through the looking glass, “This is not a sham. This is right.”
I have to admit that side by side, we make a striking couple. Sinclair is so tall and dark, rugged yet classically handsome – as if all his features have been carved from stone. In my heels my head actually reaches his shoulder, and though I look very small and delicate beside him, the fine clothes and jewelry make me look like a woman deserving of all his strength and power, not just some pretty face in the crowd.
Again I feel as though Sinclair is reading my mind, “Will you be upset if I tell you how stunning you look?”
I peek up at him from beneath my lashes, “I don’t know, why don’t you try and find out.”
Sinclair grins, moving his lips to my ear and sending a shiver down my spine before he’s even said a word. He purrs a laugh at the feeling of my body trembling against him, obviously amused and pleased at once by my response. “You look stunning Ella, so stunning it’s very hard not to eat you right up.”
I shiver again, feeling heat pool between my legs and praying that his senses aren’t strong enough to pick up on such an intimate thing. I’m beginning to think he likes getting me all hot and bothered, though it seems terribly unfair of him to tease me this way. Of course, I know Sinclair isn’t completely immune to me either, and suddenly a devious idea sparks in my mind. I lean back into his embrace, squirming slightly as if I’m trying to get comfortable, and intentionally rubbing my round bottom against him.
Sinclair growls in response, but it’s not the dangerous kind he makes when he’s angry. This is low and sultry, and butterflies burst to life in my belly even before I feel him growing hard against my backside. “I suppose I deserved that.” Sinclair murmurs, grazing his lips over the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “Such a mischievous little human.”
“We’re going to be late.” I answer huskily, trying to stay upright as my knees turn to jelly.
“I’m the Alpha, I’m never late.” He jokes, though he releases me at last.
“What, everyone else is just early?” I prompt him, quoting one of my favorite romantic comedies.
He grins, retrieving a glossy white coat and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Exactly.”
___________________
The Solstice festival is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I know it’s only the first night, but it seems so magical already. I can’t believe that it’s going to get even more magnificent. We’re standing at the top of a snow covered hill, our bodies bathed in the glow of firelight. A huge bonfire is in front of us, but as I turn to gaze out at the sprawling city, I can see hundreds of smaller fires blazing through the pristine winter landscape. The shifter society has gone completely dark, cutting out all electric lights and replacing everything as far as the eye can see with lanterns and flame.
Music unlike any I’ve ever heard fills the air around us, a blend of familiar instruments and exotic ones, set to tunes that feel older than time itself. Suddenly it’s painfully obvious that these people aren’t human, that they’re connected to their deity and nature in ways that defy all logic and science. It truly feels as though I’ve stepped into another world – one far too mystical for me to ever make sense of. I can actually feel the magic in the air, which is definitely not something I’ve ever encountered before.
Women and men wearing sheer panels of cloth and painted with blue ink whorls begin some sort of ceremonial dance around the fire. They’re holding torches of their own, and dancing with the flames as if they were lovers. I’m completely transfixed, but soon the people gathered around the edges drinking mulled wine join in, as an air of unbridled revelry takes hold of the night. I assumed Sinclair and I would stay on the sidelines and watch the evening unfold, but the next thing I know he’s pulling me into the crowd of dancers.
“Just let me lead.” He teases, pulling my close.
For once I do as he says, letting him guide my body through the unfamiliar steps until I’m so warm between him and the fire that I have to strip off my coat. He does the same, and soon I can feel his hard body flush against every inch of my soft curves. For once I don’t find it difficult to let go of my worries and anxiety, Sinclair banished the reporters who tried to follow us into the event, and though we’re surrounded by people, I don’t think anyone is paying attention to anything but their own partners. I barely even remember that Sinclair and I aren’t alone. It certainly seems like we’re the only two people on the planet right now.
I’m gazing up at Sinclair as I think all this, and I know I must be telegraphing my every emotion to him, because he ducks his head in the next moment, until our lips are mere inches apart.
He’s going to kiss me!
