Page 66 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

Ambassador Blackkhert. She settled in across from us with an almost smug smile—not fully, not enough to be inappropriate, but close enough—and blatantly looked down our group, sizing each of us up in turn.

“Well, aren’t we a lucky clan of dwarves to have the new high alpha’s closest advisers supping at our table.” She whipped her napkin out to the side with a flourish before settling it over her lap.

She was beautiful in the stocky, rugged way of dwarven females, with long red hair and golden-brown eyes. And from the way she was eyeing Gael, she was hoping those looks would get her a wild night with a shifter.

Unfortunately for her, an honorable wolf would rather chop off his own dick than touch a female that wasn’t his fated mate, and Gael was as honorable as they came.

I cleared my throat. “We are the lucky ones that the king was able to squeeze us into his packed schedule. A run on trade goods this time of year, or was it political business?” I stared her down, letting her know that I was not some schmuck fresh off a peach truck that she could swindle. If she wanted to play games with me, she was going to have to get a lot better, and fast.

She laughed, a nervous edge to the sound. “Oh, you know how it is.” She held up her goblet, and a server bustled over to fill it, tidily giving herself a pause to regroup.

“Your city is lovely. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Fiona spoke up at my side, and pride filled me at her perfect comportment. She had a knack for timing, and the king beamed at the compliment, the yin to my yang.

“Mighty thanks, mighty thanks! And who might you be, my lovely little flower?”

Fiona blushed, shooting me a look out of the corner of her eye before answering. “Fiona, Your Highness. I’m Reed’s…”

I could sense her starting to flounder and quickly placed my hand over hers on the table. “She’s my fated mate. The bond is still new between us.”

“Well then, we’re doubly lucky you’ve chosen to bring your lovely mate-to-be along to grace us with her presence.”

Before we could say another word, servers arrived at the table, positively burdened with the sheer heft of the trays they carried. Platters of food were laid on the table before us, both mundane and wild, fanciful and plainer fare done up with extra flair.

“What is that?” Fiona whispered as a tray so massive it required two servers to carry it was placed in the very center of the table.

“Spit-roasted varganbist,” I murmured. “Dwarven delicacy. Very… earthy.” Earthy was the politest thing I could say about the creature that was basically a giant naked mole rat. Its protruding incisors were yellowed and wickedly sharp, blackened at the tips from the fire roasting it had received in the kitchens.

They were prized more for the skill that was required to hunt them than they were for flavor, but saying so would be in poor taste.

Fiona tried and failed to hold back a shudder as the monstrous beast was carved table side, and politely declined her own slice when it was offered.

Once everyone’s plates were full and the rest of our party was eagerly chatting with one of our table companions—Fiona had taken up chatting about photography with a dwarven inventor across from us, who was ignoring his plate in favor of avidly examining a very small digital camera, which I didn’t even realize she’d smuggled in in her coat pocket—I turned slightly toward the king, lowering my voice.

“As you know, I’ve been sent on request from my high alpha to discuss an urgent matter with you.”

Cysernaphus grunted his acknowledgment, scraping out his empty bowl of stew with a crust of hearty bread.

“You conveniently left out what the matter was in all your missives. I don’t appreciate coyness from my dinner companions.”

“I can assure you it was not playing coy that necessitated our vague requests. It was a matter of security.”

Cysernaphus dropped his bowl with a graceless clatter to the table, wiping his hands as he finally focused his attention on me.

“What is it you lot want? Tell it to me straight, or after our dinner, you may take your leave of Neftheim’s hospitality and tell your high alpha that heads of state expect visits from other heads of state, not their lackeys.”

Shit. I knew he was keeping us waiting because he was offended, but clearly, the newly mated excuse didn’t go over well with nonwolf leaders.

“I completely understand, and I have no desire to linger and take up more of your time than is necessary. It has come to our attention that you have the omega stone in your treasury. As the stone has long been in the protection of Pack Caelestis?—”

“What kind of fucking imbecile do you take me for?” the king hissed, eyes practically spitting rage as he slammed his fist down on the table.

Everyone down the long table went silent, all eyes on us before Cysernaphus angrily waved them back to their own conversations. They resumed talking, but no less than half of them had one ear turned our way.

I lowered my voice. “I take you for a king who understands that actions taken in the past—while deemed necessary at the time—can cause intergenerational wrongs, and as thecurrentleaders of our people, sometimes we must undo those mistakes.”

He was silent for a beat, lips pursed, and I had one moment of hope that he was actually considering my words. “You want not just an item from my treasury, butthat? There’s a reason it’s locked up, and a damn good one.”

“I’m prepared to compensate you fairly in exchange for the return of the item in your treasury that wasstolenfrom Pack Caelestis during the omega wars.”

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