Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Something about MacTire’s office didn’t suit him and Mallory couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
It was overtly masculine, but so was he.
It was traditional and so was he, at least in some ways.
Perhaps it was the heavy atmosphere that wasn’t right, or perhaps she was sensing things that weren’t there.
She looked around as she sat in the chair opposite his wide wooden desk and considered the matter. ‘This room needs a woman’s touch,’ she said finally.
‘What would you suggest?’
‘Lighter curtains – cream velvet, perhaps, instead of that dark brocade. Some brighter paint – not white but something less oppressive. Maybe a rug for a splash of bright colour. And a few vases of flowers.’
‘Noted.’ He gazed around the room as if seeing it for the first time.
‘This was my father’s office – he was alpha before me.
I suppose I should have changed the décor and wiped away any memory of him.
He was something of a collector and most of his stuff has ended up in the basement.
I’ve always meant to get around to changing this room but there’s never been time to deal with it properly.
And,’ he said quietly, ‘I didn’t want to give his ghost the satisfaction of knowing that his design choices bothered me. My father was a fucking bastard.’
Mallory blinked. MacTire grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Is that vulnerable enough for you?’
She didn’t answer; instead she reached out and took his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We don’t always get to choose our family.’
His fingers tightened around hers but he didn’t pull away. ‘No, but I will get to choose my First Mate. And it’s important that my choice is a good one because it will affect everyone in the MacTire pack.’
‘Even more reason why we should get cracking,’ she said softly. She withdrew her hand and straightened her shoulders. ‘So while some compromise is inevitable, you’d prefer a wolf with blonde hair, considerable strength and an elegant fashion sense. What else?’
He sighed heavily. ‘You make it sound like a shopping list.’
‘We’re talking hypotheticals, Mr MacTire. I’m not saying this is who you’ll get. In your mind’s eye, who is your perfect mate?’
‘I think we’re beyond Mr MacTire and Ms Nash now. If Nicholas gets to call you Mallory then so do I. And I’d like it if you called me Alexander. Or Alex.’
Mallory nodded; it might make their future conversations easier. ‘Okay. Who’s your perfect woman, Alexander?’
‘Werewolf, blonde, strong and with an elegant fashion sense.’ He laughed. ‘And she needs to be powerful, as well. She’s going to be the MacTire First Mate so she’ll have to help our pack remain strong. I can’t have a mate who will weaken our position.’
‘Do you have an age range in mind?’
‘Not particularly – ten years either side of me, I suppose. If there’s too much of an age difference, I can’t imagine we’ll have much in common.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want a young model with pneumatic breasts?’
‘I’m not twelve, Ms Nash.’
‘Mallory,’ she reminded him.
He inclined his head. ‘Mallory.’
She smiled. ‘Do you have the Wolf Ball guest list?’
Alexander reached into a drawer and drew out three sheets of paper held together by a paper clip. ‘I’ve marked the guests whom I’ve already dated so you don’t waste your time.’
That was smart. Mallory scanned the papers quickly. Oh. ‘You’ve marked a lot of names,’ she said faintly. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to take a second look at any of them? Maybe there’s someone on the list who you had a good relationship with—’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘None of them are suitable.’
He wasn’t giving her a lot to work with; at least ten percent of the women on the guest list had been scratched off before they’d even started. She thought of something else and tilted her head, trying to come up with a delicate way to broach the subject.
‘Whatever it is, just say it,’ Alexander ordered.
Okay, then. ‘What about you? What sort of reputation do you have? I mean as a man, not as alpha of the MacTire clan? What do the eligible female werewolves of Coldstream think of you?’ Of course, she’d investigate the answer for her own benefit, but it would be helpful to know what he thought; as much as anything, it was a test of his self-awareness.
Alexander leaned back in his chair. ‘That I’m attractive. I’m thoughtful, both in the bedroom and out. And I’m a gentleman.’
Uh-huh. ‘Anything else?’
‘That I always put the needs of my pack above the needs of my partner,’ he said quietly. ‘And I can be something of a closed book. I don’t always say what I’m thinking and I tend to mask my emotions.’
‘Thank you,’ Mallory began.
‘And,’ he continued, ‘I get bored easily. I can’t settle.’
‘Alright.’
‘I take people for granted.’
She swallowed.
‘Communication isn’t one of my strengths.’
‘Gotcha.’ She waited for more. ‘Anything else?’
‘Those would be the main points.’
‘Are you a jealous partner?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘No. Not even slightly.’
‘Not ever?’
He looked baffled at the idea. ‘No.’
Mallory made a mental note. ‘I think I have enough for now.’ She held up the guest list. ‘I’ll go through this and look into who’s attending the ball. We’ve got more than four weeks to prepare so that should be plenty of time.’ She paused and then asked, ‘What are you doing next weekend?’
‘I’m working.’
‘What about in the evening?’
Alexander shrugged. ‘I’m free Saturday night.’
‘Perfect.’
He watched her. ‘What are you planning?’
‘A trial run,’ she told him. ‘I happen to know that the druids are holding a party for Imbolc to mark the beginning of spring. It’s the perfect opportunity to see you in action.’
‘I’m getting the full service, then.’
‘My aim is to please.’
He looked at her for a long moment. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ he said. ‘I look forward to being pleased by you.’
For some inexplicable reason, Mallory’s mouth dried.
‘Knock, knock!’ Nick called from the door. ‘Who wants pancakes?’
Thank goodness for the interruption. She grinned. ‘Me! I’m ravenous.’
Alexander MacTire was still gazing at her. ‘So am I.’
After Mallory left the MacTire stronghold with the signed blood contract and the guest list for the Wolf Ball in her bag, she took the long way home.
Alexander MacTire wasn’t her only client.
Mystical Forces was one of the larger witchery stores in Coldstream and there was a good chance they could help her get what she needed for Chester Longchamps.
The moment she stepped across the threshold, she was enveloped in the delicious smell of sage and wild garlic. She inhaled deeply; she might not be able to use most of the contents of a witchery store but she loved looking at them.
‘Good afternoon,’ a young male witch intoned. ‘Welcome to Mystical Forces.’ He looked her up and down and his smile faded. ‘Oh. You’re not a witch.’
‘Nope.’
‘You’re a shapeshifter?’ he asked hopefully.
‘I’m a squib.’
He reached past her shoulder and opened the door. ‘I’m sorry, we’re not open for tourists.’
She stayed where she was and smiled brightly.
‘Lucky I’m not a tourist, then. I live in Coldstream.
’ He stared at her. ‘There are a few of us around,’ she told him gently.
‘Preternatural abilities aren’t an entrance requirement – in fact technically I wouldn’t be called a squib if I didn’t live here.
Only non-magical residents of Coldstream are called squibs. ’
The salesman continued to gape. Finally he said, ‘If you’ve just come in to have a nosey and not buy anything, then…’
‘There are some specific items I need, though I’m not planning to buy them.’
He puffed out his chest and Mallory started to wonder if he was related to the new waiter at Vallese. ‘That’s how shops work,’ he said, as if she were very dim. ‘We stock goods. You buy the goods. With money,’ he added pointedly.
This could go on for a while. Mallory tutted. ‘Tell Miss Cole that Mallory Nash is here to see her.’
At the name of the store manager, the man stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he released his hold on the door and it thudded shut. In a bid to soothe his ruffled feathers, she held up her hands. ‘I’ll wait here by the door. I won’t touch anything.’
If anything, her promise unsettled him even further. He delved into his pocket and withdrew a small bottle filled with powder. ‘Don’t move,’ he muttered.
‘That’s really not necessary,’ she protested as he unscrewed the lid, scattered the contents in a circle around her and started muttering an invocation.
‘I will decide what is necessary,’ he said. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. The idiot witch had encased her within a black-salt ward: squib or not, she was trapped inside it. It was a move usually reserved for shoplifters and it was irritating as hell.
‘Miss Cole will be with you shortly,’ he told her before flouncing away.
Well, that was annoying, though it wasn’t the first time she’d been treated like a crazed intruder and probably wouldn’t be the last. There was nothing for it but to wait it out; with any luck, Alison Cole wouldn’t take too long.
The door behind her opened again and a pair of witches wandered in. When they caught sight of Mallory, their eyes widened and they gave her a wide berth as if they might somehow end up trapped inside the same magicked circle if they drifted too close.
‘It’s not contagious!’ Mallory called.
They pointedly ignored her and scurried away.