Dru

Katie's Point of View

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I'm not sure what I'd thought my life would be like when I'd jumped at Speaker Cannizzaro's offer to become the second werewolf Enforcer. I'd been sold by the opportunity to actually make a difference in the world, and hadn't really spent much time thinking about what it would look like, day-to-day. I'd get to attend Council meetings, obviously. I'd probably have to start carrying at least one weapon on my person at all times. That's about as far as I'd gotten.

I hadn't realized I'd be living in a palace. That was a pretty cool perk. I probably should have realized being constantly surrounded by werewolves would mean being openly stared at by just about everyone I met. What I wouldn't have ever expected, however, was that my day-to-day life would apparently consist of having tea with a queen.

"I'm so pleased you were able to make the time to accept my invitation, Dear," the woman in question declared, after it seemed we'd exhausted the normal sources of small talk. She'd already introduced herself, asked a few basic questions about me, and told me about the palace.

I pretended I had literally anything else I could've been doing, that I hadn't spent every moment since Conner's departure reading the journal Remington had assigned. I offered a smile. "Of course. Any time, Your Excellency."

I tried to ignore the eyes I felt on me as the two servants flittered about, one refilling the tea while the other offered a selection of pastries to the Sovereign. I also tried not to think about what it might mean that we'd already been talking for the better part of an hour, and pastries were only just being served. So far, the conversation had been very surface-level, with the Sovereign introducing herself, asking a few basic questions about me, and making polite small talk whenever the conversation lagged.

Which was often, because I was an awkward wreck. On an ordinary day, taking part in what felt like having tea with the Queen of England would've been nerve-wrecking enough, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being scrutinized… by the Sovereign across from me, by each of the servants whenever the china clinked as I put down my cup, and by every single werewolf that crossed through the courtyard or looked out one of the Estate's many courtyard-facing windows. It made me hyper-conscious of everything I said or did.

The servant offered the selection of pastries to me. My stomach was in knots, but etiquette demanded I accept the offer, so I smiled and thanked the man as I selected a single croissant. It was only after I'd taken a bite that I noticed the Sovereign – Gwendolyn, she'd insisted – had waved the servants away.

The atmosphere relaxed, the stuffy air of regality fading away as a warm, grandmotherly smile appeared on her lips. She set aside her tea and leaned forward conspiratorially, stiffly proper posture bleeding into a comfortable slouch. There was a twinkle in her eye as she met my gaze. "Now then, have you met Nikolai yet?"

I couldn't help but blink in surprise, unprepared for the sudden shift in demeanor and conversation. "I—No, I haven't. I was under the impression that he was busy taking care of urgent business?"

Her frown informed me that my assumption was incorrect. "Nikolai is always busy taking care of urgent business, so that's no excuse. I'll see if I can't sniff him out later this evening. He should be able to spare a moment to meet the woman he's going to marry."

I hadn't thought much of it, given I'd been here less than a day, but when she put it that way… Well, I wasn't quite sure what to say in response, so I offered another polite smile.

There was a kind, understanding expression on the Sovereign's face as she considered me. "Are you worried, Dear? About meeting Nikolai?"

Brow arching, I couldn't help but ask the question that immediately sprang to mind: "Should I be?"

Her answering chuckle put me at ease. "Of course not. I only intended to suggest… well, my understanding of modern human culture is that you often court for years before making a final commitment. I can imagine it might be stressful to agree to marry a man you haven't met."

"Ah." Giving myself a moment to think of the best way to answer that unspoken question, I took another sip of my tea. "Well, it's a political marriage, so that takes some of the pressure off of things. I mean, sure, the situation isn't ideal, but I'm happy to do this, to help maintain the peace."

Gwendolyn hummed out a response, lips pursed as, this time, she seemed to be the one debating how to respond. After a moment, she flashed a rueful smile and leaned in even closer, extending a hand out onto the table as if she would have rested it on my arm, had I been close enough. "My Dear, can I ask you a terribly indelicate question?"

More than a little bit curious by what the Sovereign of all werewolves would consider indelicate, I gave a nod of assent. "Go ahead."

"What is your relationship history?"

I let out a startled laugh. "I'm sorry?"

Appearing sheepish, Gwendolyn offered an apologetic smile as she sat back in her seat. "I recognize it isn't my concern, of course, but would you humor an old woman?"

Torn between bemusement and suspicion – because why on earth could she possibly care about that? – I tried for nonchalance as I lifted and dropped a single shoulder. Odd as it was, I saw no harm in granting the request. "It's not a particularly lengthy history," I told her. Was she worried it would somehow interfere with my purpose here? I could assuage that fear easily enough: "I haven't been married before and I'm not seeing anyone now."

She showed no outward signs of relief as she lifted her mug to her lips once more. "Have you ever been in love?"

I stiffened ever so slightly, starting to suspect that we hadn't quite gotten to that terribly indelicate question just yet. Still… I forced a smile. "No, I have not."

"And why is that, My Dear?"

I held the smile in place. "I've been focused on classes, internships, and helping out on the ranch," I recited, giving her the same answer I'd always given Bridget whenever she'd pestered me about not bringing anyone home for breaks.

But she wasn't Bridget, and the eyes she fixed on me held an understanding that made it clear she saw through the excuse. "You don't strike me as someone who would be happy putting life on hold to bury your head in textbooks."

I held her gaze for a long moment before the tension fizzled out of me. What was the harm? Something about her warm, grandmotherly nature had me longing to confide in her what I'd never been able to say to Bridget and what Conner and my Aunt had never understood. Gwendolyn would understand – I could see it in her eyes. "I'm not," I admitted, reaching for the teacup again just so I had an excuse to look down at the thing, "but what's the point of a relationship that's built on a lie? How do you live with yourself, knowing you're keeping the secrets of the universe from the person you're supposed to love? Secrets that could mean the difference between life or death, secrets that have shaped your understanding of the world and made you who you are?

"I'm not one to happily put my life on hold," I repeated, firmer, "but there's never been another option. If you're worried I'll regret this—"

"No, I can see there's no cause for concern there," the Sovereign interrupted, allowing a moment of respectful silence to hang in the air for a few seconds. "Thank you for indulging me. I knew you hadn't mated before, but I understand more of where you're coming from, now."

I could only nod, a feeling of melancholy having settled in from my little admission. I hadn't realized it had been bothering me, but putting it to words helped solidify some things in my mind. This was why I'd barely thought twice about accepting the position as Enforcer, despite my father's objection that I'd regret not being able to marry. I hadn't ever really thought it was a possibility, at least not deep down.

Huh.

I was two more sips of tea in before my mind caught up and fully processed exactly what Gwendolyn had just said. I sputtered. "Wait, you could tell I hadn't done what now?"

A delicate eyebrow arched on an otherwise serene face. "That you haven't mated, of course."

I opened and then quickly closed my mouth, not entirely sure how to approach the question on the tip of my tongue. "Is that… I mean, does that mean what I think it means?"

"You haven't engaged in sexual intercourse." The werewolf across from me sipped her tea as if she was wholly unbothered by the conversation. Because, of course, asking me why I hadn't fallen in love before was terribly indelicate, but discussing my sex-life – or lack thereof – was perfectly appropriate.

My eyes blinked closed. My face felt like it was on fire. Oh, God, I'd never wanted the ground to swallow me whole more than I did in that very moment, but I had to know. "…And you knew that how, exactly?" My voice came out higher-pitched than normal, but that was not my primary concern. Was I walking around with a giant sign on my forehead that screamed 'virgin'? Did I somehow act like one? What did that even mean?

"It's in your scent," the Sovereign explained, as if it was a perfectly obvious thing. "A person's smell has all of their vital information in it – health, age, rank, allegiance, who you've spent significant time with… It's an immediate observation. Just like I know you have blonde hair and your brother has brown, I know that you've never mated and he has taken sev—"

"Too much information!" I interrupted, eyes springing open as I clapped my hands together in front of me and gave an awkward little chuckle. "I'm sorry, Your Excellency, but there are some things about my brother I'd rather not know."

Her confusion morphed into kind understanding. "Of course, my apologies. I forget that this isn't a normal topic for your kind."

I didn't really want to touch that topic with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole, so I opted for the first thing that came to mind: "But you couldn't tell that I hadn't met Nikolai yet?"

"Oh, I can't tell absolutely everyone you've come in contact with," she told me, "only those you've had prolonged contact or very recent contact with. So I can tell you've spent a lot of time with your brother and father… and two women – a mother and daughter? – but you could've spent a few hours talking to Nikolai and not smelled like him, simply because you kept your distance."

I tried to table the werewolf super-sniffer revelation in my mind, focusing instead on what I considered to be the key word in her answer: talking. She said, I could've been talking to Nikolai. Trying not to get my hopes up, I hedged, "I've heard he doesn't speak English."

The twinkle in her blue eyes told me absolutely nothing. "What else have you heard?"

"Barely anything," I admitted. "Just that he's tall and has black hair."

A loud laugh escaped her, settling into an apologetic smile when she realized I wasn't privy to the joke. "I'm sorry. My Mate told me about you mistook Sebastian for Nikolai, and I can see why you might have come to that conclusion, now. Tell me, I know you're not a werewolf, but can you still feel this?"

She stayed still in her seat, and I was about to ask her what she meant, when all of the sudden, the room in the air seemed to thicken. It felt as if I had stepped into the room in the middle of a fight, the tension in the air almost palpable. I stole a glance in her direction, only to blanch when I saw the bright amber that had taken over her eyes.

Fight or flight kicked in, and my body chose freeze.

What was she doing? How could she let herself lose control like that? And what was going to happen now that she had? This was why werewolves were dangerous, after all – not just because they were lethal killing machines when they wanted to be, but because it was oh-so-easy for them to lose control at any moment, to lose any semblance of humanity.

"I'll take that as a yes."

I wasn't sure when I had looked away, but when I glanced back up to the Sovereign's eyes, relief was a tidal wave crashing into me. Blue eyes. She was in control again. And I decided I was lucky, that by some miracle she had been able to rein herself back in and take control before… well, anything had happened. I hadn't known what to expect. The only thing I did know was that I was much, much safer with the human half of he Sovereign back in control. I remained on edge, however, because I'd just been reminded that the woman across from me was not the kind little grandmother she appeared to be; she was a wolf in grandmother's clothing.

I figured that made me Little Red.

"My apologies, Dear, I should have warned you. My point was only that the dominance we exude is directly related to our rank and our connection with our wolf halves. Remington and I do not flaunt it unnecessarily, and we've been keeping it tucked away when you're around. Nikolai will not." There was something akin to concern in her eyes when she looked at me, and the feeling of disquiet only grew. "I'm not sure he knows how to rein it in, honestly, but he won't even try with you. And it will be stronger than what I just showed you, so please don't be alarmed. You'll see him, and you'll know he's the Enforcer, I promise, if for no other reason than the dominance in the air, and his eyes."

"What about his eyes?"

Once again, she only smiled, but this time I wasn't buying the sweet old lady act – I was eyeing her teeth. "You'll see," was all she offered in response, eyes twinkling as she reached for more tea.

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It turned out, Gwendolyn wasn't wrong.

Several hours later, after I'd curled back up around the leather-bound tomb Remington had assigned to me, the sound of voices in the hall pulled my attention away from the exploits of Harper Thompson – the Enforcer from two generations back, if my mental timeline served me correctly. It was the first time I'd heard any kind of movement in this wing of the Estate, and so I was quick to set the book down on the nearby end table, face down so I wouldn't lose my page.

I didn't want to eavesdrop, but Remington had specifically told me that there wouldn't be random werewolves wandering about this part of the mansion, which I shared with my soon-to-be husband. Did that mean he was likely one of the voices?

I got to my feet, padded halfway across the room, and paused, straining my ears to listen to the voices. When I was met with sounds too muffled to identify, I moved even closer to the door, though I refused to step close enough to press my ear up against the wood and lose all of my pride in the process.

And – okay! – maybe I did want to eavesdrop, but would anyone really blame me?

From my new position much closer to the conversation, I was able to determine the voices were male, and the language being spoken was most definitely not English, much to my disappointment. It sounded… almost like a weird mixture of Italian and Russian. Romanian, maybe? I wanted to say that it was, but my only real exposure to it had been in passing during my internship at the UN, when a delegate and his translator had met with my supervisor. Regardless, it was definitely an Eastern European language of some kind, and that, paired with the fact that this conversation was happening in the private little Enforcer wing, meant it had to be Nikolai this time. …Right?

Unwilling to embarrass myself any further by jumping through the doorway like an excited little puppy – and wow that might've been the wrong choice of an analogy – just on the off chance that this wasn't the Enforcer, I waited where I was, listening to a conversation in a language I couldn't even begin to comprehend. I waited until there was a lull in the conversation, until it sounded as though at least one of the men had left, and only then did I reach for the knob.

I barely had the door cracked open before all of my muscles tensed and I could've sworn my heart picked up a few extra beats. That unnerving tension was back in the air, only this time, like the Sovereign had warned, it was much, much stronger. I found myself wanting nothing more than to slam the door shut, but I found that I couldn't really move, all of my senses on overdrive and every instinct in me telling me to stay as still and as unthreatening as possible.

It took me what felt like an hour to finally haul my gaze up off of the floor, but the second I did, I immediately wished I hadn't. This time, there wasn't any doubt in my mind that the man standing in front of me was the Enforcer. And this time, I didn't find him alluring as much as terrifying.

He was taller than I'd expected, and his body appeared built of only muscle, but he was leaner rather than bulkier. His hair messy in comparison to the black slacks and not-too-loose but not-too-tight fitting white t-shirt he wore, and very little of his skin was showing… but what was, had my blood running cold.

His skin was light, but anything but fair, littered with a mixture of darker and lighter scars, as it was. His upper arms were decorated with clusters of short, parallel ones, while his right forearm had a single, dark red one that extended from his elbow straight down across the back of his hand. And it wasn't just his arms. His neck had several, from what I could see, and there were three very distinct markings on his face. The first ran from the hairline of his forehead down to just beneath his eyebrow, stopping just above his eye and picking up for a small part underneath it, in a way that called to mind Scar from The Lion King. The second nicked along the jawline of the same side of his face. The third one stood out more than the others, appearing more recent, though still fully healed. It ran down from just below his temple, along his cheekbone, disappearing less than an inch from his nose.

I'd be lying if I said the scars didn't detract from his appearance. Undoubtedly, they were the main reason he didn't appear remotely as alluring as Sebastian had. No, the Enforcer only appeared intimidating, looking every bit the lethal creature he was, trapped in a human body. And while it wasn't an unattractive body, per say – he was in shape and had strong features – I wasn't even thinking about questioning the fact that I wanted this to be a very platonic relationship. Not this time.

It was only then that I managed to finally meet his gaze, and when I did, Gwendolyn's earlier comments suddenly made sense. My breath caught in my throat. The Enforcer's eyes weren't a normal human color, nor were they the bright amber of an out-of-control werewolf; instead, they were a combination of the two – each of his eyes half stone grey and half bright amber, as if he was simultaneously in control and completely out of control. It shouldn't have been possible.

I was openly staring at him for a solid moment before my brain suddenly connected the dots: if I could see his eyes that clearly, it was because he was staring straight back at me, and likely had been since the moment I'd started to open the door. Sudden embarrassment spurred me into action.

"Oh! Er, hello! You're Nikolai, right?" I asked, speaking slowly and being sure to annunciate, but not drawing my words out in an insulting way. After all, if he didn't speak English, then me talking to him like he was a child wasn't going to help him understand. I pressed my hand to my chest in what I hoped was a universal sign of 'self.' "I'm Katelyn Hughes – Katie."

Silence hung in the air as the Enforcer remained exactly as he was, watching me with what appeared to be a mixture of disinterest and distaste. His gaze broke from mine once, and only for a second, as he let it sweep over me from head to foot. His attention didn't linger, and didn't feel sexual in any way. No, the once-over was somewhere between calculating and predatory. Still, the momentary break in eye contact was a welcome reprieve, for I had been fighting myself the whole time I'd been looking back at him, every instinct urging me to look away but pride insisting I hold strong.

When his gaze returned to pin me with that unsettling stare, he spoke, launching into a rapid-paced reply in that same language I couldn't understand a word of. I really was starting to suspect it was Romanian he was speaking, but that did little to help me in the moment.

"Okay…" I drew out after he'd apparently finished his thought. He hadn't bothered with gestures or slow pronunciation, so I couldn't even begin to guess at what he'd just said. "You don't speak English, then," I muttered, more to myself than to him. Accepting that realization, I gave a firm little nod and tried on what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "Romanian?" His expression didn't shift. I reassessed my pronunciation, trying to guess at how the language's name might be pronounced in the actual language. "Row-mah-na?"

Evidently it was not pronounced like that, for the werewolf in front of me cocked his head to the side in an eerily canine gesture. He blinked at me, before launching back into a rapidly-paced response that I couldn't even begin to figure out.

I nodded, disappointed, but resigned to the fact that there was nothing I could do to change the circumstances. "Alright," I said, once again speaking more to myself than to him. It felt rude to not say something to him, though. "I'm just… going to go then." I pointed to myself and then tossed my thumb over my shoulder to try and nonverbally communicate my intentions. I offered a final little awkward wave before stepping backwards into my room and reached for the door again. As disappointing as the entire encounter had been, I was at least looking forward to being able to breath normally as soon as I closed the barrier between myself and that terrible pressure in the air.

The door was almost closed when a shout from down the hallway had me freezing.

"Nikolai!" a woman's voice called out, that much at least recognizable in any language. I was almost about to resume closing the door when the woman continued, and even with my attention as divided as it was, I was able to pick out the phrase entschuldigung Sie bitte.

German! Yanking the door back open earned me an irritated glance from the Enforcer, but he still turned his focus to the woman briskly walking down the hallway, papers in hand. "Gib sie mir," he commanded, extending a hand and taking the documents as soon as they were within reach. I felt her eyes on me for a moment, but the newcomer was s quickly dismissed and on her way again.

I leapt at the opportunity as soon as it was clear their conversation was over. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" I didn't hesitate to explain that I also spoke German, and offered another introduction of myself, this time in a language he would understand.

He didn't reply at first, the expression on his face dark and uninviting as he pinned me with that wild amber-and-grey stare. After a moment, he took in a breath and heaved out a sigh, all traces of his earlier confusion vanishing from his gaze. "Your pronunciation is embarrassing, Kitten," he told me then, speaking in perfect English without so much as a detectable accent. What was detectable, however, was the unbridled anger that was laced into his words. He didn't give me time to react before disappearing into the room across the hall from me, the door slamming shut behind him with more force than really necessary.

"…It's Katelyn," I muttered after him, too stunned for a moment to do anything but stare at the door across from me. That ungodly tension might have vanished with the werewolf, but it felt just as hard to move in his wake.

Disillusion weighed heavy in the air.