Page 73 of Rejected By the Shifter King
“Will do you me a favor, my love?”
Despite the dry amusement of her husband’s tone, the way he called her his love still had Maryah’s toes curling inside her shoes.
“Imagine if we had the Leopard King right here in our office,” he said silkily.
Maryah did just that...and it was not good. “I know the results aren’t what any of us expects, but our system is the most accurate one there is—”
“Then give me more numbers to support our results,” Nicolo said gently. “Or do you truly expect him to simply accept our word at face value when we say that the math is, er, mathing—”
Okay, she totally deserved that.
“—once we reveal that his highest compatibility rate is with the same woman he rejected six years ago?”
Six Years Ago
THE MATCHMAKING AGENCYoccupied the top floor of a building that officially didn’t exist in any government registry. No directory listing downstairs. No name on the brass plate beside the private elevator. Just a small symbol etched into the metal: a crescent moon cradled by thorns that meant nothing to most of Athens’ population and everything to the select few who needed to know.
Inside, the waiting room looked more like a museum than a business. Ancient marble statues stood in alcoves, their faces turned away from each other as if keeping secrets. The furniture was dark wood that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and the air held an odd quality. Too still, too heavy, like time moved differently within its walls.
Samira Hondros sat motionless in one of those dark chairs, her spine straight not from poise but from the kind of rigidity that came from years of consequence. Pale hands lay flat against the emerald fabric of her dress. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t adjust the auburn hair that fell past her shoulders. Her face remained blank, carefully empty, the expression of someone who had learned that showing nothing was safer than showing the wrong thing.
The temperature shifted before the door opened, a subtle drop that raised goosebumps along her arms.
The first to enter the room was surprisingly nondescript. He was neither tall nor powerfully built. He was just...a man. And yet he carried himself with an air of authority that was noticeable to everyone.
Alphonse Mercier, the alpha of the snow leopards from the mountains of France.
But while he might hold both the title and the crown, it was the man who followed behind him that had everyone catching their breaths. Well, almost everyone. It was hard to tell with Samira, whose pale features revealed nothing but blankness.
Behind him swaggered a younger man, whom the alpha briefly introduced as his lieutenant Vaughn. The latter’s arrogance was evident in the way he looked at the bride disparagingly, but even he seemed to wilt when he, along with everyone else, heard the door behind them slide open yet again.
The air crackled with power as Alphonse’s younger brother made his appearance. Hexius Mercier didn’t walk so much as flow into the space, his every move economical, graceful, and deadly.
His hair was the same ice blond shade as his brother. A Mercier trademark, in other words, and so were his eyes of gold. His gaze was cold and hard, and it swept past Samira without pause.
The matchmaker rose from behind her desk. “Messieurs Mercier. May I present Miss Samira Hondros.”
