Bitter Disenchantment: A Coveted Novella - Preview

Bitter Disenchantment

A Coveted Novella

SHAWNTELLE

MADISON

1

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2013 Shawntelle Madison

ISBN-13: 978-0-9887985-1-9 eBook ISBN-13: 978-0-9887985-2-6

Cover Illustration: © Nathalia Suellen Edited by Sarah Bromley All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

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Chapter 1

You can’t run away from your family forever, Agatha. For the last hour, I sat at a bus stop bench, no more than

two blocks from home: my family’s penthouse. My dad’s words bounced around my head, and all I could do was think about the shit I had to face tonight. A few steps away, Park Avenue was busy, but that was no surprise, it was practically rush hour in New York City. No one paid me any attention. At first, a man slowed down with an interested smile, but one look from my slitted eyes sent him on his way. This wasn’t the day to fuck with me.

“Agatha, there’s a woman I’d like for you to meet when you come home,” my father had said over the phone this morning. “Don’t be late today.”

A sour feeling crept into my stomach and twisted it into wicked knots as I stood. If I’d been in wolf-form, I would’ve been circling the streets without a sense of direction or destination. Instead of spending my time walking, I merely warmed the park bench.

Reluctantly, I walked home. Each step closer to my building weighed me down. My leather boots felt impossibly heavy. Even the collar of my shirt seemed to

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tighten around my neck. I didn’t want to live in my skin right now. Tonight my family would change—in a way I didn’t want.

Eventually, I reached my building. The doorman, who’d known my family for the last twenty years, opened the glass doors with a smile. It faded when he saw my face, but it wasn’t his job to ask so he put on a chipper mask. “Good evening, Miss McClure. Hope you had a good evening.”

“Thank you, Burt,” I murmured. It was more than what most of my family said to him.

The elevator trip up to the twentieth floor was just as somber as my walk had been. Once I arrived, our guards, who protected our household, merely nodded my way heads bowed. They were large men, burly in stature, but they paid respect to the daughter of a pack leader, the Midtown werewolf pack leader to be exact.

A white-haired human butler waited at the door. I had nothing for him to carry or put away so he merely mimicked the guards.

“You’re late,” he chided gently. “I would’ve been later, Helms, given the

circumstances,” I said. “I understand—but you know Mr. McClure. He prefers

punctuality.” I frowned at the bruise on the side of his neck. My dad,

Desmond McClure, had most likely taken out his frustration for my tardiness on Helms. The poor human was paid well, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be treated like a slave. Life in my world wasn’t pretty if you sat on the lower rungs. Everyone had a price they were willing to pay in exchange for closeness to wealth and power, both of which my dad had far too much.

Right before I’d left for college at New York University, I’d said to Helms, “If you want to leave, I’ll find a way to protect you.”

At the time, he shrugged and gave me a wise smile that

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touched the wrinkles around his eyes. “A member of the Helms family has taken care of the McClure family since my grandfather immigrated from England. It’s a tradition I’m meant to bear.” Even though his family had adopted him, he took his service seriously.

At the time, I acquiesced, but now I’d rather just kick Helms out of this house with a generous check in hand. As difficult as the circumstances were for him, at least he was here by choice. I was trapped by birth.

Helms followed me from the foyer to the sitting room. I didn’t need to be told to go there. My nose was sufficient enough to follow the trail of cigar smoke. My dad loved to smoke exotic ones—rich and thick, a blend of cedar and walnut. When I was a child, they reminded me of warm hugs from my dad. Now they made me feel nothing but contempt.

The two people waited in our sitting room. The tall windows gave a beautiful view of Central Park and the lit skyline of NYC. I expected the grand fireplace to be lit, like it always was in the evening, but it wasn’t. The place felt as cold and empty as my heart.

When I sat on the Queen Anne couch opposite my dad and the woman he’d mentioned on the phone, Helms offered me a drink.

“No, thank you.” I kept my gaze focused on the coffee table next to me. On a beautiful set of hydrangeas in a thin glass vase. A fresh set of flowers every day of the year. Barely perceptible with all the damn cigar smoke.

The grandfather clock on the other side of the room ticked with every swing of the pendulum. The ever faint sounds of the evening traffic bled through the windows and touched my inner ears. Yet no one said a single word for several minutes—until Dad spoke. “You didn’t come home when you were supposed to.”

“An hour or two doesn’t change anything,” I replied. The tall, blonde woman shifted her legs. Her perfume


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was expensive and floral. Not a personal favorite to be honest. I could’ve looked up and greeted her, but if my assumptions were right, this guest wasn’t someone who wanted to be my new BFF.

“Agatha, I’d like for you to meet Kelly.” Before my common sense kicked in, my mouth moved.

“So you’re the woman who’s replacing my mother.” Kelly’s smile twitched, but she held it nonetheless. “Agatha,” Father warned. A subtle growl rumbled in his

chest. “Kelly, have you met my mother to discuss this matter?”

I asked her. “Another remark, Agatha and your position in the pack

will be lowered.” Dad’s warning had a bite this time so I crossed my arms and turned away from them.

Kelly didn’t speak, but I could practically detect the smugness. A rich musk that deepened her perfume. Our eyes met and I wished she would’ve challenged my gaze, but she looked away.

Under most circumstances, Kelly couldn’t slide in as my dad’s new consort. Since Morwyn McClure was alive and well, she’d have to fight Mom for the job. Alpha females were very possessive when it came to their mates. They had to be since other women lined up to take their place. In my pack, no one had ever challenged Mom. She dominated other females without even trying.

My father had simply cut off their marriage ties as if their bond had meant nothing.

My hand gripped the side of my chair tight enough for the fabric to cry out from a tear.

Kelly switched her legs again, smoothing over her skirt. She maintained her silence. I wondered what she’d do if my mother walked through the door right that moment. Once Mom got word of Kelly’s attempt to usurp her position in the pack, Mom would challenge. Would Kelly accept, or would she fall to the floor quivering like a pup? Mom was

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the alpha female, and the only wolf she had above her was the alpha male. Unfortunately, that alpha was my father, and I was sure he’d find a way to prevent Mom from exerting her rights.

I bit my tongue as the sour words I wanted to say tainted my mouth. Oh, how I wanted to say how I really felt. How I wanted things to go back to the way they were even if that meant I lived in a household where my mother and father lived apart.

Helms entered the fog of our tête-á-tête. He flicked a glance my way and gave me an expression I remembered from my youth. Back down, Agatha, his brown eyes said. Choose another day to fight. As much as I wanted to knock this chick across the room, it wouldn’t happen today. So I sighed and did nothing to hide that I was sulking.

“Dinner is served,” he announced. Dad got up first, with Kelly not far behind him. When he noticed I hadn’t moved, Dad checked behind

him. I reluctantly followed. He had no right to assume I’d accept this. Other packs didn’t operate this way. Just a few like ours who swayed from the Code, or the code of ethics for werewolves. According to the Code, the strong led the pack and the weak were cast aside. Mom was strong enough to lead. It was in other pack matters where she wasn’t good enough for him.

For the most part, the dinner service in our formal dining room was like any other. Dad sat at the head of the table, but I wanted to snarl at the sight of Kelly sitting to his right. I shouldn’t be surprised, after entering the room, to see someone else had taken my mother’s place. The urge to take the spot was strong, and I could’ve stared her down until she gave it up. Instead, I sat in my usual place. Right next to Kelly. She squirmed beside me, and I grinned.

“Kelly, sit up straight,” Dad chided. “I won’t have my only daughter intimidate my future mate.”

I raised my eyebrow at my dad’s frown. What would he


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do if I said the impossible? Right here, right now. The wolf in me grinned, ready and eager to strike. I took a deep breath. “Kelly, on my honor, I challenge—”

“Don’t you dare!” In an instant, Dad’s arm stretched across the table, his hand slapping down between the place settings. The table shuddered as fine china rattled and glasses of water spilled. “This is your final warning, Agatha. This isn’t the time or the place to go against me.”

Kelly and I froze under his glare while the servants rushed to clean up the water. His face hardened, every muscle tightened like a stretched bow. He slowly picked up an upright wine glass and gulped.

I kept my gaze on my plate. All the while, Dad chuckled. “That’s my Aggie. If only you’d been born a man, you would’ve made a fine pack leader.”

To keep myself from laughing at his condescending, sexist garbage, I focused on the shiny reflections in the plate. I counted every curve, even the minute nicks beyond a human eye’s capability to see. Anything to escape the very thought that my life in my pack could end up in the very manner my mother’s had: abandoned by my mate who no longer saw me as the woman he chose as his life partner. No more than ten feet beyond the doorway to this penthouse, my mother had been relegated to a one-bedroom apartment. All alone.

My trance ended when the staff brought our food. Almost as if to calm me, Helms served me first after my father. He gave me a knowing look and gently squeezed my shoulder as he filled my bowl with soup. He pushed the spoon closer to me.

Eat. He tilted his head toward the food. I picked up the spoon. As the food slid down my throat,

my anger dissipated a bit. How well Helms knew me. My pesky, yet persistent, habit. Just the thought of eating—the very act of chewing—brought a deep comfort. Something that could only be compared to the satisfying feeling you’d

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have when you scratched an itch that never went away. The servants added two rolls to my bread plate where others had one. An extra serving of baked chicken when my plate quickly emptied. As I gave into the place where happiness resided, a place with a fork in my hand, I sensed Kelly’s eyes on my food. Most werewolves ate a lot to keep up with our advanced metabolisms, but I had just eaten my fourth serving. Far more than usual, even for a werewolf.

Naturally, my dad had to interrupt my blissful moment with a word or two.

“Since we’re dealing out all the cards tonight,” he said, “I thought you’d like to know I arranged your engagement not too long ago.”

“Excuse me?” I said between bites. “How long ago?” Our eyes met. His blue eyes to my blue eyes. A slight

grin etched into his cheek. “Three or four years ago...” I chortled a bit. Matchmaking among the packs wasn’t

new. But over the past year, I’d made an organized effort to reach out to other single pack leaders or males who would inherit the position, meeting and talking to them—on my terms. No hiding in the dark with secrets or deals under the table. I wanted to choose a good man for myself, not stew in the situation where I was now.

“You promised,” I said crisply. The food in my stomach turned heavy as iron.

“That was five years ago, Agatha.” “You promised,” I repeated. “I have your best interests in mind.” “So how much am I worth to you? A hotel? Land?” I

tried to distract myself with my meal again and managed to take a bite of the custard pie one of the servants hurried to place in front of me. Their attempt to calm my anger was touching, but far too late a gesture. At the moment, disgust clawed through me like razor-laden ice, slicing across every inch of me. So I filled my belly, cramming in every bit in hopes I’d think of something else. Unfortunately, my grip on


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my fork tightened again and again. Until the fucking metal bent.

Dad wasn’t far from me. Just five feet away. I could imagine myself flying across the table to tackle him with my butter knife. Not exactly the best blade to do the job—but it was the feeling that counted. The muscles in my legs clenched, ready to jump, but I took a few cleansing breaths and focused on my reflection in the glass of water.

Stay calm. You know how this game is played. This wasn’t the right time to fight. My father was far too strong and fast for someone my age to challenge. I was only twenty-four. Still a pup by an elder’s standards.

Helms entered the room and announced a guest. Not far behind him, a stranger waltzed in. I could smell him at first: a thick ass fog of Brut. An overpowering choice in cologne—but his appearance was another story. He had an angular face, with a wide back and narrow hips. Black hair and eyes. Not too shabby at all in the looks department. But he had one strike against him already that nothing—including a golden-tipped pecker—would make me agree to a relationship with him. His black eyes assessed me, perhaps waiting to see if I’d acquiesce on our first encounter.

Not gonna happen, pal. He approached my father, shook hands with him, gave

something to me, and then took a seat across from me. I refused to acknowledge him. Refused to see the bouquet of exotic flowers he’d left at my side. Even more, I refused to look at the tiny box he clutched in his palm. Tiny enough to fit an engagement ring. How traditional of him. Why even bother to bring it if they had planned to just tell me I was engaged?

My gaze flitted to the seat beside me where Kelly sat. I could almost hear my mom’s words in my ear. You’re the daughter of a high-ranking female from the Carreg Pack in Wales. A lineage of strong women. Always display dignity, Agatha.

Mom’s refined breeding always battled with the one

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thing I inherited from Dad: a need for control. I should thank him for it—after I figured out how to get out of this mess. For both my mother and me.

My father spoke quietly with Victor Pershing, as he was introduced to us, about Dad’s plans to claim Kelly as his mate during the next full moon. That was a few weeks away. An ideal time for our marriage to begin, Victor agreed. According to the Code, werewolves mated for life. Apparently, the exception to the case was women like my mother, women who no longer produced children.

No matter how hungry I was, I couldn’t eat another bite. A strange thing for a compulsive overeater like me. My eyes met Dad’s again before I turned away. I should’ve tried to take him out, but my time would come someday.


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Chapter 2

During the rest of the dinner, I hadn’t said a word to Victor. Even my father got the silent treatment after Victor introduced himself to me. When I finished my food and rose to leave, no one asked me to stay. I sensed Victor’s eyes on my back though. He’d stared at me during the meal, even attempting to draw me into a conversation. But there wasn’t anything I wanted to say to either of them.

As I went through my day the next morning, I didn’t want to think about what Dad would next throw my way. An outrageous engagement party for his business associates? A wedding dress to try on? Living in New York with the other well-to-do families meant I was constantly pushed to follow ridiculous social rules, but that wasn’t my style. I’d seen the humans with their grand rituals like the expensive affairs at hotels with guests lists consisting of the rich and perpetually bored. If I was forced to attend a bridal shower with Mom, I’d probably do it, but nobody could force me to like it.

I gazed out the backseat window, taking in the view of the Hamptons. There were some jobs I still enjoyed—like now. As the daughter of the Midtown pack leader, I’d taken on the responsibility of settling disputes between the higher-

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ranking females. Never a boring day with those ladies. Instead of my usual workplace, my father’s office

building, I got to make a lovely road trip to a place I’d visited often, Southampton, for a dispute over land after a messy divorce between two pack members. Not all rich folks were like this, but a few of them had forgotten how to keep it classy. If someone else had something they wanted, they weren’t afraid to piss in a yard that might be greener than theirs. I took in the lines of extravagant houses along the road. Werewolves were all the same no matter where I went. Why couldn’t people settle things with an overpriced lawyer and call it day?

The driver, one of my bodyguards named Michael, kept a steady hand on the wheel while he drank a Starbucks caramel macchiato. The rich scent of his morning drink filled the Cadillac every time we headed out. The more experienced bodyguards usually took their coffee black. But as the newbie, Michael didn’t care what they thought. He was the dark and silent type.

The only other passenger in the car was another guard. Clip, somehow short for Clifford, took a few seconds to breathe before he started up again on me.

“You ever had tripe soup, Miss McClure?” “Two years ago. Smells a bit off, but it’s not bad.” Clip and I played this question and answer game all the

time. He hadn’t stumped me yet after going through most of the foreign/unusual/weird shit he could think of. He was a bald-headed black man with a deep voice that fit well with his burly body. A man as nice as he was made me wonder if I’d ever find a quality mate. Clip was a good friend, but he was also very married.

A few weeks ago, he said, “What about that one dish where they put a bunch of shit in a sheep’s stomach?”

“Oh, haggis? My parents are originally from that area in Europe. You need to try a lot harder.” He’d gone through most of the dishes on Andrew Zimmern’s “Weird Foods”


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show and found I’d eaten most of it. “The idea of haggis might seem gross, with the sheep organs and all, but it tastes really good.”

A gal with a never-ending appetite like myself just didn’t stick to one cuisine. If the opportunity presented itself, I’d sample every single one of the thirty-one ice cream flavors from Baskin Robbins in one sitting. Hell, if the damn toppings could’ve been slapped on there I’d eat them, too. Food made almost everything better. Feel sick, get chicken soup. Get your tonsils out, get ice cream. Too bad a triple scoop banana split couldn’t fix last-minute marriage arrangements.

“Okay…” Clip thought for a bit. “Rattlesnake meat.” “Wow.” He turned in the seat. “Did I get you?” “Not really. Ate some during a hunt with boarding

school friends during a trip. Very gamey. Had an interesting bite to it.”

Clip groaned from my poor joke. “Try again,” I said with a smile. “Ok,” he began. “How about...” He trailed off as the car

slowed. I leaned to the side to peek around Clip’s head. Had I

finally stumped him? Then I noticed Michael’s heart rate had increased. The bodyguard’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened with a scent accompanying it: fear.

There was a black car ahead of us blocking the road. With a quick twist, I noted another one behind us.

“Playmates?” I whispered. “I suspect as much,” Clip replied evenly. This wasn’t the first time I’d been attacked. As the

second highest-ranking female in the Midtown pack, I was on most target lists. Like it’d been said, sever the head and the body was compromised. There was no escape route on this narrow, country road, so Michael pulled over. Four men jumped out of the SUV ahead of us, while another five

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spilled out of the one behind us. “Looks like a decent crowd,” I said. “Much bigger than

last month’s.” The Long Island pack who roamed in this area hated when I came around. Almost with a vengeance. But they never tried to cross my father—they had far less numbers than my pack. Also less money and influence. Their territory had more space, but once in a while they got belligerent.

I opened the car door and noticed our attackers didn’t smell like the Long Island pack.

“Miss McClure...” Michael groaned every time I investigated things on my own. Even though he’d been on the job a few months, he should be used to my antics by now. Dad tended to rotate my guards since I kept them on their toes.

Clip followed me out as the men surrounded us. No guns. No weapons. That was how werewolves fought among themselves. A strict rule in the Code. That told me a few things about them. There was little honor when you tried to kill someone, but the Code made sure you worked for it. If you were gonna force someone to take a permanent vacation from the land of the living, you did it with your bare hands.

My incisors lengthened in my mouth and I tasted a fight in the air. The wolf in me practically salivated at three against eight odds.

“You need to come with us,” one of them declared to me. They were pretty sizable. Not as big as my guards, but based on their smell, they were decent stock. I stared down all of them—noting a few avoided my gaze. A big mistake.

I took a confident step toward them. Never look away from prey.

“Stand down, guys,” I ordered. “I don’t know what pack you’re affiliated with, but I have business and the permission of the Long Island Pack to be here.”

“Your business has nothing to do with our mission.”


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Five closed in. A growl emerged from Clip’s throat. His back hunched over as the wolf within scratched at the surface of his skin. His fists clenched, and the first attacker didn’t even get a chance to block as Clip swung, hitting the guy squarely across the chin. The first wolf crumpled over while the rest swarmed us.

I held my ground. I’d been taught to trust my guards. To trust in my pack’s actions. Clip had never failed. Michael, on the other hand, had a few issues he needed to work out. He took down two men who came at him, but a third was small and nimble, easily jumping on his back to pummel the back of his head. I rushed in to snatch his attacker off his back. The wolf was hesitant. Still a pup based on his sorry-ass growl. I raised my fist to hit him, but stopped to pop him upside his head. “Get your ass back to the car.”

The boy yelped and tried to fight, but resisted when I gave him a rough kick to his rear end. By the time he hid in one of the SUVs, the rest of my attackers littered the concrete around us, unconscious. Michael cradled a bleeding wound on the side of his head while Clip checked a wallet or two for identification.

“I can’t tell who they are by scent,” I said to Clip. “A few of them smell like the woods, other ones smell city. There’s something else.” It was very faint. Slightly nutty and sweet. “Can you smell it?”

“Nope,” Clip replied and flipped open a wallet. “I got a Maine ID here. A Jersey one there.”

I sighed. “Pack members don’t usually live so far apart. Think they’re rogue?”

“You want me to question the boy?” Michael asked. I shook my head. “I doubt he’d know how to tie his

shoes. Don’t bother him. This is most likely a smaller pack trying to kidnap me for ransom, but I still want it reported. This whole situation leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Clip opened his phone and dialed up the Midtown pack service line. We’d have to notify my dad to ensure someone

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would come out here to clean up the scene. No one was dead, but humans witnessing pack business could be a problem. Over the centuries, the existence of werewolves and other supernatural creatures had remained a well-kept secret. Not that things hadn’t leaked out in the past with all the movies, books, and such about us. But still, we liked to keep our world in the shadows.

My phone rang in my back pocket. A shrill noise like a clarinet getting played by an orchestra of five year-olds. My father absolutely detested it. When I was around him, I let the damn thing ring a few extra times.

“Good morning, Agatha.” It was Dad’s secretary. He never called me personally unless I’d done something horribly wrong. I snorted. Maybe he’d call someday to tell me Mom had challenged him to a fight. That would be a hell of a call. “Mr. McClure informed me you’d been detained. Are you well?”

“Yep. Nothing new.” Sadly, I knew it was the secretary who was checking on my well-being and not my father.

“You’re to meet Mr. Pershing for lunch at the La Messeria.”

“I see.” I kept a straight face while Clip dragged two men behind a tree. Michael wasn’t far behind.

“He said, and I quote, ‘That under no terms are you to be absent from the meeting.’” There was a sliver of fear in her voice.

There was no reason for me to vent with the secretary. She already knew how I felt about Kelly and Dad.

“I’ll be there. Be sure to tell him, and I quote, ‘I know how to keep my promises.’ End quote.”

His secretary was silent for a moment. “I’ll relay your message.”

With my guards trailing behind me, I entered the Italian

restaurant. I didn’t need to speak to them as the hostess directed me to my table. They were wolves who became


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ghosts when necessary. They appeared only when they needed to protect me or if given an order to harm others.

Victor Pershing, the man my dad told me I’d be marrying, waited for me at a private table—even though I was fifteen minutes late. I had plenty of excuses: shitty NYC traffic, random parades, filming for a movie with scantily clad men. None of those were true, but hey, Victor didn’t need to know that.

I sat and the maître d’ poured my water while another added my usual: a glass of Riesling. I’d eaten here enough times for them to know my eating habits. The keep-the-food-stacked-high kind. I’d need to be a good girl today.

“Thank you for coming, Agatha,” he said. His overpowering cologne made my nostrils flare. If he expected me to become his lawfully wedded wife, he really needed to choose something different, but I kept that tidbit to myself—for now.

“I’m sure you’re not happy with the way things have progressed since yesterday.” He sighed. “I was under the assumption your father had prepared you to meet me.”

“Well, he hadn’t.” I emptied the breadstick bowl of the last piece, and the waiter immediately replaced it. The guy was new, but he was quick on the draw—I’d have to reward his efforts with a nice tip.

“So, what did you offer my dad for my hand?” I asked. That particular question hadn’t been answered last night, and I couldn’t hide my disgust at being treated like cattle at auction.

Victor didn’t immediately reply, merely looking at me as if he wondered what went through my head. He slowly rubbed his strong chin, his black eyes focused on me.

“I’m the daughter of the alpha of the most powerful pack in Manhattan,” I said. “Based on what I learned about you—thanks to my good friend Google—you’re a banker out of Philadelphia. Not much in properties, but plenty of cash and connections in New England. So why me and what

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was my price?” Now give me an answer to that one, Mr. Pershing. “It’s not just about material possessions, Agatha. I

promise. We’ve actually met at a soiree at the Met. It’s been a while, and it seems you don’t remember. But I remember. You caught my eye, and I knew then I had to know you someday. I’ve had a picture of you since then. I looked at that picture frequently. Long enough to already think of you as someone I knew.” He tried to lean forward, perhaps in an attempt to make things more intimate between us. “And I won’t lie. I’m rather fond of redheads.” He chuckled, looking my way to see if I’d smile, but I didn’t.

He had yet to say anything I found amusing. “I’d like to make things work between us. I’m here to

make this a love-match.” He snapped his fingers, and the maître d’ scurried toward us. The tall man placed a red, rectangular velvet box in front of me.

“What is it?” I asked without opening it. Victor wasn’t the first man to come bearing gifts.

“A token of my affection.” I wiped my hands on my napkin and opened the box. A

tennis bracelet filled with diamonds. It was beautiful. It even rivaled the one Dad had given Mom when I was born. But I couldn’t let Victor know that he’d astounded me. “Thanks, but I already got one. Why don’t you give it to my father, the one you really want to impress, after you tell me what you’ll get for marrying me.” Words and gifts didn’t mean shit. Intentions were everything.

“Fair enough.” He returned the sly smile I offered him. “I can understand why you’d feel so upset about my arrangement with your father.”

“In what way?” I didn’t have a dick between my legs so I’d love to know how he understood what it was like to be a werewolf female among a bunch of males who loved to exert power over them. “Oh, please educate me.”

“You probably have a boyfriend, don’t you? Is that why


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you’re being like this?” “Whether I have one or not isn’t the point,” I said. “You

can tell me you want me all afternoon, but I need to know what I was worth to you. Especially since I have no choice in the matter.”

“Our ways are setup to protect our women. Living without consequence can put you in danger.”

Our food was placed in front of us. The arrival of my lunch meant I could finally dig in to the tagliatelle alla bolognese. The rich aroma from the meat sauce and pasta called my name. Seconds later, with my mouth full and manners disregarded, I snapped, “Says who? If I walk out that door right now, I should be able to go where I want and live the way I want to.”

“Without protection from the other packs?” “If I go someplace new, where no one knows who I am,

my lineage won’t make a damn difference.” He rubbed the side of his face, and I could practically

predict what he was thinking. That I talked a good game, but in the real world, that wasn’t gonna happen.

“Is that what you want? To leave New York?” I stirred the pasta around my plate. “The thought came

to mind.” “And what about the pack? Wouldn’t they need you?” “I’ve never shirked my responsibilities.” “I didn’t say you had. I’m saying you and I are in a

position we can’t run away from.” His large hand inched toward mine—the digits twitching as if he reached for me.

I didn’t take the bait and inhaled a large bite of food instead. It settled the anger brewing in my stomach and calmed me a bit. We ate the main course in silence. When they took our plates, I finally said, “You’re avoiding my question. What did you get for me?”

“All cards on the table, ehh? Are you sure?” I nodded. “I offered him a chain of luxury hotels in Philly, and he

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promised me the position of alpha male with you as my mate. I’d have to put in the work now at his company until we are mated.”

My breath got caught in my throat as I tried to take it all in with dignity. Any other reaction wouldn’t be appropriate, like losing my damn mind. So Desmond McClure did have a hefty price tag for his daughter.

“Aggie, I want you to understand this is the way it’s always been done. I still want an actual relationship though.”

An actual relationship? He sure as hell had gone about it the wrong way. I ate, trying to wrap my head around his words. Did he mean what he said? Or was it like the games Dad played? “If you want a real-honest-to-God relationship, then why not get to know me first? Why not run into me on the street and do the work so we can fall for each other? How about an old-fashioned romance?”

He didn’t speak for a bit. “I wanted to do it that way, but your father told me you’d think less of me otherwise.”

“And you believed him?” He gestured for the maître d’. “Can we have our

desserts please? The special one I ordered.” “Special?” Damn, I hated how eager I sounded. “I had everything flown in from Paris. The dessert and

the bracelet,” he added dryly. The waiter placed a saucer with a meringue puff in front

of me. I sighed. One of my favorites from childhood. Back when Mom was at home, she used to take me out to lunch once in a while and we’d eat these for our dessert.

“I asked Helms what you’d like. I can see I made a good choice.”

I shrugged, but it was half-hearted at best. Before I could pick up the fork, Victor pulled an

engagement ring box from his inner jacket pocket and got on bended knee before me. “I’d like for you to wear this please, Agatha McClure. As my future wife.”


21

The ring was just as big as I remembered. A massive diamond solitaire with a white gold band. The number of carats in that sucker had to have cost him a fortune.

Other diners turned in our direction. At first, I was put off. Arrogant alpha males, like Dad, would never do this. The very act was submissive in nature. Yet, a part of me, maybe the one eager to feel like I was on an actual date, caved in and put on the ring. A round of applause erupted around us. If I was blushing, I’d never admit it.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I grumbled, but I had trouble hiding my smile while I ate. Dear heaven, the food was divine. So light and airy on my tongue. “Oh, by the way, not to hurt your feelings, but can you hold back on the cologne? It’s really killing me here.”

Victor chuckled. “Fair enough.” “Look, I’ve been with all kinds of guys. The jerkoff

professional sports stars, the self-assured playboys. I don’t want to regret agreeing to this marriage.” Slowly, I began to eat again. The dessert was decadent—and didn’t last long in my care.

His eyes followed my fingers holding the fork all the way to my lips for each bite. From the slide of the tines through the meringue to the scrape as it hit the saucer, the pull of the sweetness, and then the parting of my lips and approach of my tongue to meet my dessert. When I finished, he said, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes for this to be a love-match.”

“We’ll see.” With the dessert finished, I put down the fork. Reluctantly. Now I had to restrain myself from licking the saucer. “I look forward to seeing what you’re willing to do.”

I anticipated nothing, yet expected everything from him. It was the least he could do.

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Want to find out what happens next to Aggie?

Be sure to order Bitter Disenchantment from your favorite retailer in May 2013!

ISBN-13: 978-0-9887985-1-9

eBook ISBN-13: 978-0-9887985-2-6

Werewolf Natalya Stravinsky’s outspoken sidekick, Aggie McClure, is featured in this prequel novella. Before Agatha set foot in South Toms River, New Jersey, she had the fight of her life to face. Destined to be the alpha female over her Manhattan pack, Aggie was fully prepared to take on her role until her father arranges a marriage without her consent. She wants out–but the only way is with money–something her new controlling husband won’t give her to escape. But such odds never kept a wolf like Aggie down. To sever the twisted tie, she finds herself pitted against raging wood nymphs and backstabbing brownies in an underground supernatural fighting ring. With every victory, the sweet taste of freedom is closer, but her husband isn’t willing to let her go that easily. Until the very end, Aggie must fight for the one thing she’s never had: a choice.

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ABOUT SHAWNTELLE

Shawntelle Madison is a web developer who loves to weave words as well as code. She’d never admit it, but if asked she’d say she covets and collects source code. After losing her first summer job detassling corn, Shawntelle performed various jobs—from fast-food clerk to grunt programmer to university webmaster. Writing eccentric characters is her most favorite job of them all. On any particular day when she’s not surgically attached to her computer, she can be found watching cheesy horror movies or the latest action-packed anime. She lives in Missouri with her husband and children.

www.shawntellemadison.com

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