Page 59 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

“There’s lots of folklore around bridges. Love lock bridges, the bridge of sighs, the kissing bridge. The more I learn about real magic, the more it makes me wonder if there’s any truth to it. And also, ifthisbridge has any magic.”

I leaned closer, pressing my chest to her back, speaking low and slow against her ear when I answered. “Why don’t we make our own lore for this bridge? We’re both magical, so I think it can be as magical as we make it.”

She hummed happily, clearly putting some thought into what she wanted to assign the rickety little bridge. After a moment, she turned and laced my fingers with hers, lifting our joined hands in front of her face so that the backs of our hands were facing each other. Her brow was furrowed with concentration when she spoke.

“Our hearts and hands are bound as one, from the rising to the setting sun. Love never harms the one we hold dear, hear this day from my lips to your ear. Our kiss is our pledge, our love a shield. By the power of water, our bond be sealed.”

When she kissed the back of my hand, I felt a zing of power snaking through my arm, and when I mirrored her move, kissing the back of her hand, my lips burned with the same strange magic she wove between us.

“Do you think it worked?” she whispered, as if afraid to break the spell.

“I think it did.”

“Good. Now anyone who walks over this bridge, holding hands and sharing a kiss, will never harm their other half.”

“It’s perfect.”

And then, it started to rain.

By the time we walked back to the hotel, we were soaked to the skin. I suspected she had called the rain, though I didn’t voice my thoughts as we took turns taking hot showers and changing into warm, dry clothes. As much as I wanted to get my hands back on her, I also knew the importance of taking things at her pace.

Her trust was more than enough for today.

* * *

The next fewdays passed in frustrated, if uneventful, boredom. We hiked with the rest of our group, ate delicious food in the little village, and stayed up too late around the communal fireplace in the evenings over bittersweet cappuccinos.

For most, it would have been heaven. An Italian getaway in a romantic hotel with my fated mate. And on one level, I loved it. Fiona was a beautiful enigma, one I was enjoying getting to know in a lower-pressure environment.

We shared little bits about our lives, our pasts as we lay in bed each night, fingers intertwined in the darkness.

But I was a man of action, and it didn’t sit well with me to be waiting around when I was on an important pack mission. We needed that stone, and we needed ittoday.

Or, at the very least, to get negotiations underway.

I slipped out of our room silently on the sixth morning, letting Fiona sleep in. I had the empty hallways to myself in the predawn light, and after ordering up a fresh cappuccino from the hotel bar, I called the dwarven ambassador.

She answered on the third ring, just when I thought I was about to be sent to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Anebara. I’m looking for an update on our request to see King Cysernaphus.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Alpha Monstru. You’re as awful as your surname implies before the sun has even risen.”

“Women with Blackkhert as their surname shouldn’t throw stones.” I lazily sipped my coffee, unconcerned about pissing her off after waiting nearly a full week for a lousy audience. It was downright insulting, and I was done being insulted for the sake of diplomacy.

“The king is a very busy dwarf, and?—”

“Ambassador, let me save you some trouble.” I put the delicate mug down on the bar, gripping my knee in suppressed fury instead. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘Of course, Alpha Monstru, King Cysernaphus is anxious to see youtoday,’ then I’m going to have to call the high alpha and let him know that the dwarves aren’t interested in real diplomacy with wolf shifters, and let him escalate it himself. As he’s newly mated, you can imagine it’s not high on his list to have to drag himself away from his new mate to speak with you, after you’ve given his chosen representative the runaround for no Goddess-damned reason.”

There was a heavy pause.

“King Cysernaphus would be delighted to host your delegation tomorrow evening, for a proper welcoming feast.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

I hung up the phone, then lifted a finger toward the bartender for a refill.

THIRTY

---