Page 65 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
And Rick had never been one to deny the uncomplicated truth of his animal self. He was not a human. He was a shifter. Emotion came second to instinct.
And his instincts roared that Rosalia was his.
If only he could accept that.
It hadn’t come easy to his pack brothers. Nicolas had been forced to ice Daisy out, to protect her from his bastard of a father, and the lies between them had stretched years. Cassie was a human, and Felix had had to overcome a lifetime of mistrust. As for Dane and Lola…Dane had been a complete idiot, to nobody’s surprise. There wasn’t much more to it than that.
But all three of them had defeated the obstacles facing them, and every day, Rick could see the happiness it brought them.
By comparison, Rosalia was his wife. His from the very start, with nothing in their way. Uncomplicated.
He glanced over at Rosalia, who was smiling indulgently at Eva, more of a mother to her than Zara had ever been.
She was beautiful. Poised. Intelligent. Stronger than she knew.
His jaw clenched.
He was not a man to open his heart readily.
As the plane slowed to a halt and Rick stood, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartment, Rick tried to put thoughts of Rosalia out of his head. He had to concentrate. As lovely as she was, he couldn’t let her distract him from his purpose.
He needed to bring down the Black Claws. Lay them low before they decide to attack.
Rosalia accepted her bag from him with a grateful smile, holding her hand out for Eva to take, and Rick brushed a kiss onto her forehead, relishing the heady scent of her skin.
She sighed, leaning into him, and his whole being clawed at itself to justlet her in.
He schooled his features and stood tall. His wolf snarled at him, driving him to lean back into her, to kiss her properly.
He wrestled the beast down.
Later. There would be time for all that later.
For now, he had a war to win.
***
The Willard was already a hornet’s nest.
Even from the limousine, he could scent the alphas inside, musk and dominance clashing in the marble halls. By the time they stepped beneath the gilded entrance, the air was thick with it, testosterone and fury woven into the perfumed flowers scattered uselessly about.
Rick’s gaze swept the lobby, cataloguing threats. Black Claw wolves clustered in one corner, thick-shouldered and sullen, their dark suits fitting like shackles on beasts too large for cages. The Stonewheel Bears were louder, booming laughter rattling the chandeliers. A pride of mountain lions lounged like kings, feline smiles concealing sharp teeth. And threading among them, serpents all their own, were the human delegates. Senators, advisors, men, and women who thought their pens sharper than any claw.
And John Heath.
The Green Mountain alpha stood near the bar, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He did not approach, did not so much as lift his drink in acknowledgment. But his eyes found Rosalia instantly, and the satisfaction in them made Rick’s wolf bristle.
He felt Rosalia tense beside him. He didn’t need to look to know her throat had tightened, her shoulders drawn. The careful mask had not faltered, but scent did not lie. Fear leaked through her restraint, delicate and bitter on his tongue.
His jaw flexed. He wanted to rip Heath’s throat out then and there. Wanted to drag Rosalia behind him and snarl at every bastard in the room that she was his, and no one would touch her, not even her father.
Especiallynot her father.
But Eva’s hand was small in his, and her wide eyes darted from face to face, curious but anxious beneath the weight of so many alphas. Rick reined himself in with effort. This was not the battlefield. Not yet.
“Come,” he murmured, guiding both Rosalia and Eva toward the lounge off the main foyer. Plush leather couches, soft lamps, fewer prying eyes. He settled them there, crouching to tuck Eva’s coat around her small legs. “Stay here. Other guests will join you soon, as well as guards.”
Rosalia nodded, her eyes flicking to him with something he could not name. Gratitude, perhaps. Or relief. It stirred a dangerous warmth in his chest, one he refused to examine too closely.
