The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Chapter 17 – Preparation

Some of my confidence has waned on the ride home. Sinclair has been so mysterious about this scent marking business, and I don’t like the way he keeps looking at me – as if I’m some prey to be devoured.

There’s still so much I don’t understand about this word, like how carrying his child can make me smell more like a wolf myself, or how someone can leave a mark which must be sensed and smelled, rather than seen with the naked eye. Not for the first time, I’m jealous of shifters’ heightened abilities. The more time that passes, the more enchanted I am by the idea of transforming, of letting out one’s inner animal and being truly wild and free. I don’t know why I like the idea so much – it’s not like I have an inner animal to release, so I’m not actually missing out.

“You look nervous.” Sinclair observes, resting one proprietary hand on my knee as the car speeds along. Of course, his touch only makes me more antsy.

“You can fix that.” I suggest, “it doesn’t have to be a surprise.”

“True, but it’s much more fun this way.” He smirks.

“Fun for you maybe.” I mutter mutinously. “Besides, if you want your scent to be strongest tomorrow, shouldn’t we wait?”

“And deprive myself of the opportunity to do it a second time?” He arches a brow, “why on earth would I do that?”

“I…” I don’t know what to make of this. If he were anyone else I’d think he was flirting with me, but that’s not possible. Wolves and humans don’t mix. Maybe he simply enjoys teasing me, like a cat toying with a mouse. He certainly enjoys making me squirm. I realize this must be the reason, and suddenly I find myself feeling very indignant. I don’t like the idea of being some plaything to the hungry predator. I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe I won’t let you.” I decide.

The hand on my knee tightens, but not enough to hurt. “What was rule number one, little human?”

“That I should be as relaxed and happy through my pregnancy, so you shouldn’t be making me nervous.” I reason, knowing full well he expects me to confirm that he – as Alpha – is in charge.

“You forget I have a link straight to our pup, I know when you’re stressed, and when you’re just making mischief.” Sinclair rumbles. “But if you want more justification for doing it often, it’s to avoid scenes like what just happened. If people can’t see your shoulder and also smell me on you very powerfully, they can be fooled into thinking I have marked you. We can give the mating ceremony excuse to those who ask, but it would be better to avoid the questions altogether.”

while later, Sinclair is standing in front of me in my room, looking so powerful and attractive I’m almost too distracted to hear him speak. “Take

of them?”

underwear on, but it’s better if we’re skin-to-skin.” He says,

strips down to his boxer-briefs, taking in the sight of his muscular body and feeling my jaw go slack. I’ve never seen anyone

need to take them off for you?” He asks, arching a brow and stepping

in my bra and panties. Taking a deep breath, I carefully lift my dress over my head, bracing

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mostly naked body all over me an hour ago. Scent marking – I’ve learned – is a

were no explanations, no soothing caresses for my fra zzled nerves. He came to me with a mission in mind, and slowly, sensuously covered me in his pheromones. If he noticed my body’s response to his attentions – my aching breasts and liquid arousal, he gave no

the way over, testing my knowledge of shifter society and nodding with approval when I smoothly answered each of his prompts. He hasn’t said a word otherwise, which tells me just how much tension he’s carrying

an incredible palace, I can’t keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. “I’ve never seen such

be raised if my campaign is

stepping down?” I ask as we climb the marble stairs, mostly trying to

“Alpha Dominic, over here!”

who’s your

choice.” Sinclair shares. “He’s getting old and is no longer the strongest among us. The alpha council voted to force him to

question, trying my best to smile and wave at

he would be a disaster.” Sinclair intimates, ducking his head low enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear. “You’re doing brilliantly by the way – look at them

and avid attention doesn’t bother me. I feel confident by his side, even as I’m bowled over by his

I know it, we’ve left the reporters behind and are crossing the ballroom to a pair of thrones at the end of a great hall. The throngs of people part to let us pass, and

king’s hair is streaked with gray, but he still has an air of unquestionable strength. His Luna is lovely and