Page 142 of Unwilling Wolf

With an irritated sigh, she rested her hand atop his and her other on this shoulder, touching him as lightly as humanly possible.

She hated this. Hated being pressured into anything, hated the rumors that would be spread about her, hated everyone looking at her. Hated that it wasn’t Garret here dancing with her.

“Do you remember the night you took drink with me?” Faraday asked.

“Not really,” she murmured, searching the blurring faces that stood around the dance floor as he guided her around in a waltz.

“I had watched you all night, but your dance card was full. And then I saw you on the balcony, and I thought surely God had gifted me this chance for a reason.”

“You asked me to go to the gardens with you,” she said low. “It was improper.”

“Not to me. I just wanted time with you.”

She tried to look anywhere but at his face. “You have a very long memory, Mr. Faraday.”

He pulled her closer. The proximity made her feel trapped and uncomfortable. She was still yet unrecovered from her earlier panic, and the dizziness came back with a vengeance as they twirled and danced in rhythm with the music. The floor was crowded, and it added to her distress. Around and around they flew, and the faces in the crowd blurred together as Robert droned on and on.

There were werewolves. Supernatural beings existed in this world and were fighting battles that none of these humans even realized. There was a real life out there, real struggles, where if you worked hard enough, you could earn a peaceful evening with someone who meant everything.

The room spun and spun. Robert Faraday was talking, but she couldn’t understand his words over the rushing sound in her ears.

She hated being a bauble in some society game where it just felt like predators around every corner hunting her reputation.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, jerking to a stop. She swayed on her feet and looked up at Faraday’s frown. “I don’t want to dance with you, or feel bullied into participating in this show. I want to go home.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I’m dancing with a man who is not my husband, and I don’t belong here. I’m trying to be polite, but sir, I have no interest in this…this…whatever you think it is.”

He hung his head and gave a slight nod, and then a bow. “It is not my intention to cause you distress, Miss Flemm—”

“Mrs. Shaw,” she corrected him.

His teeth clenched, and a flash of anger took his eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

She backed up a step. “I assure you, I don’t give a single goddamn who you are.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Therein lies the problem. You are the one who doesn’t care. Can you not see how tempting that is to a man like me?”

“I wish you a good night, sir.” She curtsied and turned to make her way to the exit, but a pair of glowing blue eyes stopped her in her tracks.

“Lie,” he said over the hushed whisperings of the ballroom. “Mrs. Shaw does not wish you a good night.”

Garret looked so different dressed in a fine, charcoal gray suit that matched the shade of his wolf. His jaw was clean-shaven, and his dark hair cut fashionably. His chest rose with a deep inhalation, and he lifted his gaze behind her to Robert Faraday.

“Garret?” she whispered, heart hammering against her breastbone as he approached with the grace of an animal.

“May I have this dance?” he asked in that gritty voice that said his wolf was near the surface. He offered her a hand, but his eyes were still boring into Mr. Faraday.

“Of course,” she murmured, and slid her gloved hand into his, then curtsied slightly as he bowed.

In utter shock, she missed the first two steps of the waltz, but Garret was apparently well-versed in this dance and he adjusted immediately, saving her from embarrassment. The violins picked up again, and the other dancers on the floor began to dance again. Mr. Faraday stood right there in the center, glaring at Garret.

“Should I kill him?” Garret asked her.

“Probably bad form,” she whispered. “Garret, what are you doing here? And also, how are you so good at the waltz?” He was gliding her backward seamlessly, just as good as any lad here.

“I learned in Georgetown. That was entertaining.”

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