Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Ouch. So much for the thought in the back of her mind that he wanted her. Like really cared for her. She was so dumb sometimes. “So, you need a political mating to keep from killing a bunch of old wolves?”
“Pretty much.”
Emily let out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. Her entire body felt like one long bruise, and her healing abilities had slowed. She had to hide that simple fact from him. “That’s about as romantic as a tax audit.”
Jackson’s mouth twitched. “Not aiming for romance here. Just honesty.”
She should’ve been mad. Should’ve been insulted. But instead, a laugh broke free before she could stop it. “God, I’m an idiot. I was actually pissed for a second that you weren’t proposing because of my hot body.”
“I mean, it doesn’t hurt,” Jackson said, deadpan.
She shook her head, laughter still bubbling under her ribs. The absurdity of it all hit like a slap. Politics, bloodlines, pack elders who were probably too old to even jump into the fight. And now, Jackson standing there like mating her was just another box on his to-do list.
But damn if some part of her didn’t admire the honesty.
The other part? That one howled in protest. Damn bitch.
She would find a cure for her illness and protect her father. And the entire pack. Plus, Jackson was dangerous on a level the female inside her felt. “I appreciate the kind offer, but my answer is no.”
Tension rolled from him, strong and sure. Then he smiled. “All right. Let’s negotiate this. You come into my territory as part of our courting ritual, get my council off my back, fall in love with the town, and then mate me.”
The words unfortunately sent a shock of thrill through her. “Counter-proposal.” She’d never mate out of convenience, damn it. But she did want to get into his territory—sooner rather than later, if the rumors she’d heard about his doctors were true. “I’ll come visit, get your council off your back, and find you a mate. I write romance and will put that to good use. In return, I have free rein while I’m there. You know, to see how modern you all are.”
His eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Final proposal. You visit, get my council off my back, and try to find me a mate. Good luck, because we’re really low in Alpha blood. If you fail, then you mate me. Either way, I’ll then give your pack a ten year license to dig deep in my Embervault Mine.”
She blinked. “Your what?”
Jackson snorted. “You didn’t really think your father wanted to hand you over just for an alliance between our packs, did you?”
Chapter 4
A sharp knock rattled the front door, jolting Jackson from a deep sleep. Grunting, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and yanked on a pair of worn jeans. Barefoot, he padded down the hallway’s hardwood floor, the chill of early morning brushing against his bare chest.
The smell of pine from last night’s flight clung to his skin, a reminder that he’d pushed hard to get home. Helicopters beat running any day, especially when covering the entire length of Washington state. Five hours running flat-out—maybe seven at a normal pace—while the chopper made it in ninety minutes. He liked efficiency.
He opened the door, unsurprised to see three members of the council standing on his porch. Ancient wolves. Stubborn as stone and just as immovable. A glance to the side confirmed Thane Stormridge watched from the tree line, having patrolled through the night. Jackson nodded at his best friend.
Thane, tall and lean, smiled but didn’t come closer. Jerk.
“Where is your mate?” Harland Whitaker demanded, his jowls quivering as he shifted his considerable weight.
“Don’t have one yet,” Jackson replied flatly. “Come in.”
They didn’t wait for further invitations. Moving with surprising grace for their ages, the trio swept into the formal sitting room. Heavy leather chairs flanked a stone fireplace, unlit but still carrying the scent of wood smoke. The hum of tension filled the air. Old expectations clashing against new realities.
Jackson raked a hand through his unruly dark hair as he followed them inside. He dropped into his father’s old leather chair and stretched out, barefoot and shirtless, letting them feel the deliberate insolence in his posture.
The thin, wiry elder to Harland’s right adjusted his stiff collar, his pale-blue eyes sharp as flint. Irving Carpenter had to be almost two hundred years old and probably had been underweight his entire life. The guy always wore an open-collared shirt with an amethyst pendant visible in his gray chest hair. “The council has been clear, Jackson. You’re in your thirties. It’s time to settle down. The pack needs more Alpha blood and a determined future.”
“We had an agreement,” Harland pressed. “You and Philip Nightsom—”
“We did,” Jackson cut him off. “But his daughter didn’t agree. I’m not about to mate an unwilling female. Especially not Emily Nightsom.”