Page 12 of A Queen and Her Knight

“Yes, I did.” Nathaniel petted Zoe while finally acknowledging his mate. “And so did you. And so did Zoe. So don’t overthink it, Zo’.” Nathaniel paused. “That’s Little Wolf’s job.”

“Hey!” Tim raised his voice again for the protest and Nathaniel reached over to hang up the phone.

“Honeymoon already over?” Zoe wondered, the words thick and wet, as if she’d been crying when she hadn’t. Nathaniel hadn’t meant that stuff about sitting beneath Tim’s window, right? That had to have been that weird way he had of teasing Tim until they were both wound up. It had to be.

Nathaniel clucked his tongue, and Zoe realized he was smiling again. She lifted her head in surprise.

“Still discovering things,” he explained, as if he knew what she’d really been asking. “Still thinking he’s the strangest person I’ve ever met. Still drawn to him and fascinated by the way he thinks, and calmed by the way he presses close. More in love than I thought I would ever be. upset with myself for hurting him a moment ago. Pleased that now he knows what I felt. It’s… complicated. It’s mating, Zoe, marriage.”

“Oh,” Zoe repeated herself.

“Oh,” Nathaniel echoed back at her, with an expression so pleased it made her chest ache. “You can take it.” This growl was warmer, but it still demanded her attention. “You can handle it,” he insisted, then grinned at her like Tim’s visiting imp friend had. “And you have a Dirus on your side.”

Zoe swallowed. “You know that’s actually horrifying, right?”

“Your mate won’t stand a chance,” Nathaniel agreed. “Luckily there are ways to distract him.” That probably meant Nathaniel’s dick, but thankfully, Nathaniel didn’t say it. “And Tim does mean well.”

“Yeah?” Zoe didn’t mean to sound so surprised, and it got her a serious, dark-eyed look from the sheriff.

“He loves you. And he wants you to be happy.” Nathaniel stroked her cheek again. “So do I,” he added, fully aware she wanted to squirm at the emotion in his voice. “So will she,” Nathaniel finished, soft and deadly and exactly as evil as Tim always insisted he was. Zoe hadn’t understood before. Perhaps it took a mate’s eyes to see the real person, and know them, and love them anyway.

“Oh,” she said for what felt like the thousandth time, and let Nathaniel calm her.

~~

Being a fancy hotel, the Flores had discreet parking in the rear so nothing blocked the entrance, although a driveway did lead almost all the way up to the doors. But only people like Silas Dirus, who had a driver to park his car for him, ever pulled up to the front. Inside the two huge doors was the great hall, builtby some timber baron back in the day, who’d bought—or taken—the rest of the house from the original Spanish owner. The timber baron, mysteriously, had left town not long after that.

Zoe had always figured he’d been run off by the early werewolf occupants of the forest he’d been intent on stripping away, since he seemed like he must have been a massive asshole. His great hall looked like someplace Teddy Roosevelt would have hung out in, all human and macho and stinking of money.

Of course, even if Zoe had loved the hall, she wouldn’t have felt like stepping inside tonight. She stared at the entrance, the large doors, the ornate carvings, the lights flaring to life along the walkway. Night came early in the mountains, once the sun fell behind the trees. Lights were on in many of the hotel’s rooms. While Zoe had been waiting, several guests had walked out all dressed up, on their way to try to hook a werewolf before their vacation was over.

Zoe felt very obvious in her uniform. She was off-duty, which meant she’d removed the gun she was required to carry but had never used, although a detail like that wasn’t very noticeable to the tourists. From them, she got a leer, a respectful nod, and a tipsy salute.

Thankfully, none of them stopped to talk to her or ask why she’d parked her truck directly across from the Flores. Not her brightest move, but then she’d never intended to wait here this long.

She should have just gone inside the hotel. She should have walked up, asked Greg or whoever was working the front desk where the spa was, and then she should have marched right in there and spoken to her mate.

Except she had no reason to charge in there, and anyway, storming in to see one’s mate to win their affection did not sound like a good plan.

Neither did leaning against the door of her truck and staring forlornly at the hotel. She’d been kind of hoping a reason to go inside would occur to her now that she’d decided to formally introduce herself. Two whole days to think about it, and in the end, the desire to see Cleo again had outweighed her common sense.

Zoe sighed and lowered her head. Her skin itched. The moon wasn’t close to full, but she could feel it rising, pulling at her. If she stayed here any longer, she was going to end up on all fours, pining for her mate in the street the way that Greenleaf had rather notoriously done a few months ago.

Although, the witch had relented and let him up and into his apartment, and now the two of them were almost inseparable, so maybe there was something to be said for shifting in the street. Nathaniel had done his share of sad howling too, but that had been during the full moon, and anyway, his situation had been special. Zoe wasn’t special; she was just too awkward to go say hello.

“Oh! Hey!” The familiar voice came from some distance away. Zoe raised her head to track the sound and felt like a deer catching the scent of a predator in the wind when she saw Cleo coming around from the side of the hotel.

Cleo had on black pants and a black top, and long, open coat or shirt of some thin material. She had a small duffel bag in one hand and the other was held up in a small wave.

Zoe waved back, then felt like a dork. “Hey.” At least she’d remembered to speak this time, even if she had to clear her throat to do it.

As if that had been an invitation, Cleo slightly altered her course to head in Zoe’s direction. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the hotel before.” She was all in pink where she wasn’t in the hotel’s required black, a pretty shade Zoe didn’t know the name of. Her springy curls were arranged in two bunches near the top of her head, and she wore big pink plastic hoops at her ears. Pink and black eyeliner made her eyes especially large and captivating. To complete the lovely picture she made, she was smiling.

Up close she smelled like lavender soap and sea salt and clay, like how the inside of a spa might smell. Beneath that she was flour and coffee and kitchen staples, warm sex and mate. Zoe nearly closed her eyes. As it was, her mouth fell open as she got hot all over.

“I….” Zoe opened her eyes, and found her mate close and patiently waiting for her to speak. She recalled that she’d been asked a question, but couldn’t seem to untangle her tongue enough to explain her presence here tonight. She had no reason to wander into the Flores. Admitting to wooing a mate held no shame, but humans wanted something first, didn’t they? Something less permanent than an announcement about forever. Cleo wouldn’t want Zoe barely saying hello before she announced they were, maybe, meant to be.

Zoe knew she wasn’t the too-tall, too-strong, too-fierce girl she’d been in her teenage years among the humans. But the wolf remembered being unwanted and unclaimed. It remembered no touches, no pack. No one took in werewolf children except the desperate. Weres were uncontrollable, violent, they said. As if Zoe had ever picked fights. She’d only kicked the asses that had needed kicking.

---