CHAPTER ONE
L ONDON, 1813
“Is that her?” Vlad Kaverin demanded, his voice brisk, imposing, as if he expected the world to bow at his feet. The large man flexed his oversized muscles, straining the seams of his superfine jacket as he took several steps across the highly polished ballroom to stand with his hands on his hips directly beneath a brightly lit chandelier.
“Could you keep your voice down to a low growl?” Dimitri shouldered the Russian back into the shadows. Vlad hadn’t stopped snarling since they’d arrived. The sight of his sour expression alone would no doubt send half the gently bred ladies present at the ball tonight into a fit of vapors. Vlad, who was built like a rugged dock worker with his large hands and wide, muscular body, clearly didn’t fit in with the bon ton crowding the ballroom that night.
Neither could Dimitri claim to be one of England’s elite, for that matter. But he’d lived with the humans long enough to know how to fake his way through high society. “Were supposed to keep a low profile,” Dimitri whispered to his pack’s alpha.
“Don’t tell me what to do. Just answer my question. Are you sure it’s her?” Vlad’s low growl warned that just how close the alpha was to attacking, which wasn’t wise. Quick, deadly movements might work when hunting in some deep, dark wood, but success in the ballroom required a predator’s ability to bide his time, carefully luring the prey to come to him.
“Yes, I am certain,” Dimitri said with a sigh.
That was all he planned to say about the lady in question. He’d barely moved his lips even. And he certainly didn’t budge from where he stood leaning against a marble column in the Duke of Duncaster’s ballroom.
Dimitri watched with a slow, deceptively bored gaze as Lady Amelia Routledge allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor on the arm of yet another popinjay. Earlier in the evening he had taken his turn. Her sun-streaked light brown hair sparkled like diamonds threaded through silk as she passed under the gilded chandelier hanging high above them.
“Well, I don’t know,” Vlad growled. “She looks nothing like Sasha or Lev.”
“It’s her.” Dimitri had watched the graceful creature over the past year. Had even been close enough to smell the scent of their pack on her skin.
Keeping tabs on her the month she’d spent at her family’s country estate in the far northern reaches of England had proven difficult, but for Dimitri, stealth came as naturally as breathing.
“Well, then, if that’s the case, I should bed her immediately,” Vlad said.
Dimitri dug his nails into his fisted hands until he felt his own blood stain his white gloves. “Naturally, I bow to your authority.”
Lady Amelia wore a muslin gown that reminded him of a summer-blue sky. It matched her sparkling blue eyes. Her ripe young breasts pressed against the delicate fabric as if begging for a man’s touch. Her full, heart-shaped lips formed a natural pout. Lips like those could keep a man edgy all night long. And her long legs… Dimitri could imagine only too vividly how they’d feel wrapped around his hips.
He blew out a ragged breath. He’d spent countless days dreaming of the beautiful lady. Everything about her called to his baser, wilder instincts, and a few possessive ones he hadn’t realized existed. He sure as hell didn’t want Vlad anywhere near her, an innocent and delicate lady of the realm. So he pushed that image out of his mind. Instead, he watched as Lady Amelia danced with another gentleman.
Pale and as lovely as the moon, she reminded him of finely spun glass. Precious and extremely breakable. She was no doubt the kind of empty-headed young lady who would be easy to get along with, a trait prized in the ballrooms of London. She’d make an ideal wife to any one of the gentlemen present tonight.
Which was most, most unfortunate.
The lady was a beautiful flower, a diamond of the first water. Beautiful
L ONDON, 1813
“Is that her?” Vlad Kaverin demanded, his voice brisk, imposing, as if he expected the world to bow at his feet. The large man flexed his oversized muscles, straining the seams of his superfine jacket as he took several steps across the highly polished ballroom to stand with his hands on his hips directly beneath a brightly lit chandelier.
“Could you keep your voice down to a low growl?” Dimitri shouldered the Russian back into the shadows. Vlad hadn’t stopped snarling since they’d arrived. The sight of his sour expression alone would no doubt send half the gently bred ladies present at the ball tonight into a fit of vapors. Vlad, who was built like a rugged dock worker with his large hands and wide, muscular body, clearly didn’t fit in with the bon ton crowding the ballroom that night.
Neither could Dimitri claim to be one of England’s elite, for that matter. But he’d lived with the humans long enough to know how to fake his way through high society. “Were supposed to keep a low profile,” Dimitri whispered to his pack’s alpha.
“Don’t tell me what to do. Just answer my question. Are you sure it’s her?” Vlad’s low growl warned that just how close the alpha was to attacking, which wasn’t wise. Quick, deadly movements might work when hunting in some deep, dark wood, but success in the ballroom required a predator’s ability to bide his time, carefully luring the prey to come to him.
“Yes, I am certain,” Dimitri said with a sigh.
That was all he planned to say about the lady in question. He’d barely moved his lips even. And he certainly didn’t budge from where he stood leaning against a marble column in the Duke of Duncaster’s ballroom.
Dimitri watched with a slow, deceptively bored gaze as Lady Amelia Routledge allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor on the arm of yet another popinjay. Earlier in the evening he had taken his turn. Her sun-streaked light brown hair sparkled like diamonds threaded through silk as she passed under the gilded chandelier hanging high above them.
“Well, I don’t know,” Vlad growled. “She looks nothing like Sasha or Lev.”
“It’s her.” Dimitri had watched the graceful creature over the past year. Had even been close enough to smell the scent of their pack on her skin.
Keeping tabs on her the month she’d spent at her family’s country estate in the far northern reaches of England had proven difficult, but for Dimitri, stealth came as naturally as breathing.
“Well, then, if that’s the case, I should bed her immediately,” Vlad said.
Dimitri dug his nails into his fisted hands until he felt his own blood stain his white gloves. “Naturally, I bow to your authority.”
Lady Amelia wore a muslin gown that reminded him of a summer-blue sky. It matched her sparkling blue eyes. Her ripe young breasts pressed against the delicate fabric as if begging for a man’s touch. Her full, heart-shaped lips formed a natural pout. Lips like those could keep a man edgy all night long. And her long legs… Dimitri could imagine only too vividly how they’d feel wrapped around his hips.
He blew out a ragged breath. He’d spent countless days dreaming of the beautiful lady. Everything about her called to his baser, wilder instincts, and a few possessive ones he hadn’t realized existed. He sure as hell didn’t want Vlad anywhere near her, an innocent and delicate lady of the realm. So he pushed that image out of his mind. Instead, he watched as Lady Amelia danced with another gentleman.
Pale and as lovely as the moon, she reminded him of finely spun glass. Precious and extremely breakable. She was no doubt the kind of empty-headed young lady who would be easy to get along with, a trait prized in the ballrooms of London. She’d make an ideal wife to any one of the gentlemen present tonight.
Which was most, most unfortunate.
The lady was a beautiful flower, a diamond of the first water. Beautiful
Similar Books
