Page 3 of Wolves Betrayed

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As much ashe tried to ignore why he was eating such tantalizing food, Anders couldn’t. This alliance was needed. Otherwise, it was just him and Misti against two large werewolf packs. Their deaths would be a certainty. Now, it was possible they might survive this.

Might.

And if they did… Misti would still be married to that Talon guy. He choked on his next bite of stuffed flounder.

“You’re gorging yourself like it’s your last meal.” The she-wolf of his dreams sat down next to him with the grace of a queen.

“It might be.” Anders didn’t bother to shift over to give her more room, enjoying the heat radiating from her body, their thighs touching. Last night had been their goodbye, and he had so appreciated her coming to him. He meant something to her, even if she had refused to allow him to claim her several times. Although that had been for the best. If they had been together, this alliance would never have happened. They would have been doomed. Even knowing that, he still longed to have her as his. He had never met a more ferocious and strong she-wolf. She was intelligent and powerful, and she didn’t allow him to do as he wished. She challenged him. Above all, he appreciated that.

“Your optimism is overwhelming,” she said dryly.

“You want optimism? How about this? I hope your husband meets his demise in the next battle.”

“Anders!” She slapped him hard, her features twisting with fury. “How could you say such a thing?”

“You know why.”

Her expression softened. “Still, that is awful.”

“I never claimed to be a good person. Since my optimism isn’t why you came over, why did you?”

“There’s a war council assembling now. You’re invited.”

Because of her, he assumed. From the scowls and glowers her husband had thrown his way throughout the wedding and during the celebration feast, Anders knew her husband didn’t appreciate his presence. He’d be happy for my death too. Because I’m a rival for Misti, at least until he claims her? Or because he hates Shadowed Stars more than Red Nightwalkers? Or maybe Red Nightwalkers are easier to forgive when they look like her. With curves in all the right places and long, luscious locks, and an amazing smile, Misti turned heads wherever she went.

She started to get up, but he touched her wrist. His groin stirred at the contact. Settle down.

“You hardly ate. Have a little of mine.” He shoved a forkful of his flounder and brought it up.

She took his fork hastily, and he grimaced. He would love to feed her an entire meal, to maybe go on a picnic, the sun warming them enough for them to strip their clothes, maybe some wine or champagne to wash down the food. One thing would lead to another and…

Misti took a few more bites then jumped up. “Come along.”

“Yes, my queen.”

She scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

“You might not be married to the alpha—”

“I am not yours.”

Was there pain in her voice, or was he hearing things?

“And besides,” she continued, “wolves don’t have queens. You know that.”

“I know I would follow you anywhere.”

“Oh, hush.”

“If Kastner had a daughter instead of a son, I would have married her like you did Talon. I know it’s necessary, but that still doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Hush, Anders.” She quickened her pace, so they left the hall behind. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

“Please.”

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