Page 2 of The Alpha's Honor

“I know you’re ready, and I’m certainly ready for your father to stop being the literal boss of everyone, but you don’t have to rush.”

“You and Dad were matched by Abbie.”

“Yes, but I think that a match like ours is the exception, not the rule. Do you really want to be alpha so badly that you can’t wait a little while longer, try to find your heart-match?”

His lion agreed wholeheartedly. Guilt tickled at the back of his mind, but he pushed the unwanted emotion away. “Didn’t you raise me to take over, to be the best alpha possible?”

“Of course, and you will be. I’m just pointing out that you’re still young and you don’t need to rush.”

“It’s time, Mom.”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, and then she sighed. “I’m sure she’ll find you a lovely mate.”

He knew he hadn’t really won their little argument, but he was going to take the win anyway. “Me, too.”

“Tell me how it goes. I’ll send lunch to the bar for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

First, he’d go meet with Abbie, and then he’d head to Tails, the bar that he co-owned with his best friend, Titus. Titus was a high-ranked male as well, and when Duke took over the pride, Titus would become one of his official guards.

* * *

Abbie Vernon was a seventy-year-old lioness with a penchant for good whiskey and a sixth-sense about mates. Her matchmaking sometimes ended with what the pride referred to as a heart-match. But that didn’t always happen. Duke knew very well that he could be matched with a female that he would never grow to love, and while his lion didn’t much care for the idea, he wanted to be alpha, and this was the final step.

“Hello, Duke,” Abbie said as she looked up from the rocker on her front porch. Her eyes flitted to the bottle in his hand and he smiled and handed her the whiskey he’d procured just for her. “Well, well. Should I beware of a lion bearing gifts? I suppose you’re in need of some of my particular brand of counsel?”

“I’m ready for you to work your matchmaking magic on me.” He took a seat in another rocker, which creaked under his weight.

She opened the bottle and poured a healthy amount into the mason jar on a little side table between the rockers. Lifting the jar, she said, “I’d offer you a drink, but I happen to not like sharing.”

With a chuckle, he shook his head. “I’m heading to Tails anyway, so thanks for the kind-of offer.”

She sipped slowly, the rocker creaking as she moved. After several quiet moments, she set the nearly-empty jar down and said, “Let’s move into my office.”

He stood and grabbed the door and then followed her into her cozy home. The pride lived on a hundred acres of wooded, rolling hills, their hunting grounds full of all sorts of fast and furry creatures to chase. Unlike the wolves, big cat shifters didn’t hunt at any particular time of the month, but whenever they felt like it.

Abbie cleared her throat and gestured to a sofa. He sat, and she took the overstuffed recliner next to it, placing a large, leather binder in her lap.

She stared at him for a long moment and he felt keenly aware of just how special she was. As a matchmaker, she held his future in her hands, and he trusted her implicitly. Matchmaking among shifters was passed down through the generations, and only through females.

She opened the binder and began to carefully turn the pages. He knew from his parents’ mate-matching story that the binder was a fluid book that contained information on eligible male and female pride members in the Midwest. The pages had a small photo of the lion, age and physical descriptions, and a code that only Abbie knew. Duke’s mom said she suspected the code was information about the lions’ personalities, and who their best matches would be.

He wondered what his page said.

“When we do this, it’s binding. Do you understand?” Abbie looked at him, and he had the distinct impression that she was seeing right into his brain.

“Yes.”

Her brow arched delicately and she continued to stare at him for several more seconds and then turned her attention back to the binder. She turned page after page, quietly murmuring to herself. Even with his enhanced hearing he couldn’t figure out what she was saying. Not that he was trying to eavesdrop, but he was curious.

“Ah, she’ll do,” she said finally. He wasn’t sure how many minutes had ticked by, but it had felt like an eternity. Abbie turned the binder around and he saw a photo of a blonde lioness. She looked like a model for a fancy department store, the sort of ones his mom said she liked to “window shop” at, but never actually buy anything.

“Madison Clary, twenty-three. Daughter of the alpha of the Lewiston pride. She graduated Summa Cum Laude with a bachelors in business. Not only good for the pride, but also good for your business as well.”

He stared at the photo, his gaze tripping over to the physical description, which said she was five-foot-eight and slender. It wasn’t that he cared what she looked like, because this was a mate-match and physical stuff wasn’t supposed to matter. But it did, kind of. Madison was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. And judging by her pedigree, and what he knew of the Lewiston pride, she was a fierce lioness and would make an excellent alpha female.

“You’re sure she’s the right match for me?” he asked, sitting back and shifting his gaze to Abbie.

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