To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (39 page)

He lost his step.

Never ever in his life had he done something so ungraceful, something so alien to who and what he was. But right now, he couldn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed of tripping on his own fucking feet in the middle of the dance floor, in front of thousands of Faeries no doubt keen to judge him at every turn.

Domenico was unable to breathe at Misty’s words. After everything that had happened, how could be she so goddamn selfless and still worry about hurting him? Perhaps the right thing was to give her up. God knew he didn’t deserve her – but he couldn’t. He just damn couldn’t.

He loved her too much.

Domenico roughly pulled her back to his arms, just to keep her close, not even bothering this time to pretend they were dancing. “Misty---even if you did have feelings for him, it wouldn’t stop me. You’re
mine.
Just like I’m---”

Those last words she couldn’t bear to hear, and she pulled away, tears making her gray eyes shine like silver. That he said she was his, Misty could bear hearing. Because it was true – and she feared it always would be true. But those last words?

Misty had a feeling they would always be a lie.

“I don’t understand what you want from me, Domenico, but I want you to stop it. I’ve given you everything so please---please stop this.” And just like before, she ran away from all the prying gazes of other guests at the ball, feeling humiliated once more. 

Outside, Ivory listened patiently for Misty’s footfalls. She had a pretty good idea that something big would happen tonight---it was impossible that nothing would happen with the way Lysander Allard seemed intent to bait the Moretti prince.

Her hunch paid off when she saw Misty walk so swiftly past her the other woman probably didn’t even see her. Seizing her chance, she looked at her companion meaningfully before saying out loud, “The prince told me in no uncertain terms that he would do everything to get the human girl back.”

Misty’s steps faltered, then completely came to a halt.

“He wants to mate with her this time?” Ivory’s lady-in-waiting asked.

“Oh no. He just wants her to win leadership of the Lyccan Council,” Ivory drawled, savoring every word that dropped from her lips, knowing that it would draw blood. “Even if it means lying and fooling her again.”

Someone was knocking on her door---in the middle of the night. She had been unable to sleep the whole night, unable to forget Ivory’s words. Once she had ignored such warnings and where had that gotten her? She had trusted in Domenico completely, and that only ended up breaking her heart.

The knock became more insistent. Fearing it was Domenico, Misty slowly went down and looked through the peephole. It was Lysander.

She quickly unlocked her door. “What’s wrong?”

Everything was wrong – with her. For her.
Misty looked like a wreck. Her hair was a complete mess, her eyes were swollen and red, her face blotchy. But somehow, she still managed to look like a delightful wreck in his eyes. Somehow, Misty tempted him even more this way, making Lysander want to make her cry even harder but this time because she couldn’t bear the pleasure of his touch.

“Lysander?”

Fuck. Trying to get his erection under control, Lysander managed a smile for Misty. “May I come in?”

“
Now?”
It didn’t feel right, letting another man come inside her house at this time of the night.

He snapped his lace fan open then raised a brow at her. “Were you already sleeping?”

The sight of that pretty lace fan relaxed Misty, reminding her once again that even though Lysander Allard was one of the most beautiful men in the realm, he was still
gay.
She stepped back with a sheepish smile. “Obviously, I wasn’t and you’re gay enough to know why.”

Lysander turned to close the door for her and as he did, he caught sight of something in the darkness. His eyes gleamed. So that was how the prince wanted to play the game then? Interesting…and Lysander knew just what to do to make things even more interesting.

As Misty led him to the living room, he casually pulled the blinds partially open, as if to study the moonlit surroundings outside. “This Alliance has made me remember just how hard our ancestors worked to rebuild our race after the Great War,” he murmured.

“I’m really sorry about what happened to your family,” she mumbled, wishing she could say more but knowing words would never be enough to take away the pain of losing one’s family.

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He swung back to face her, leaving the blinds open behind him, thus allowing the prince to see inside the house.

“Would you like some tea?” She didn’t make the mistake of offering him coffee, knowing how they preferred their food and drinks naturally sweet. 

“Yes, please.” He took a seat on the floral cushion, taking pleasure meanwhile at the sight of Misty preparing his tea. His mind tempted him with images of Misty doing the same thing, in his house, naked except for an apron tied around her waist but Lysander swiftly pushed those thoughts away. Now was
not
yet the time to let her know the truth about him. Not just yet at least.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Misty said as she put the tray down on the center table. Looking at Lysander, she couldn’t help but smile and forget her troubles for a while. He was dressed in the most casual she had seen him, but his “casual” look was still a lot frillier than most. It was not gay specifically but it just had a lot of lace in it, like a real-life Ken doll.

Lysander snapped his fan closed as she began serving tea. He didn’t bother hiding his surprise as he remarked, “You have
star fruit
?” It was an exotic fruit in the human world, and one that his race prized.

She nodded, confused. “Sir Belmont always gives me some when he comes back from his one of his trips.”

Sir Belmont, the Grinch of their race, the one who infamously swore to burn all his wealth on his deathbed rather than give it to anyone? That Sir Belmont?

Lysander cleared his throat. “I see.” Actually, he didn’t but he was going to look into this as soon as he could. He had never heard of Misty having any connection with the old curmudgeon, and maybe even if he did he would not have believed it. There was really more to this human girl than met the eye, Lysander considered, looking at Misty with a narrowed gaze.

She caught him staring. “What is it?”

He lied smoothly, “Nothing. I was just wondering how to tell you I have a shoulder for you to cry on if you want to talk about…” He trailed off delicately.

She sniffed. “You’re a lot more sympathetic than Daryl, I’ll give you that.” Her other gay friend, upon learning what happened in the ballroom and what she had overheard Ivory saying, simply told her to talk it out with Domenico.

“Do you really think he’s doing all these things just to get you back for the pack’s sake alone?” Daryl had asked.

It was a question she didn’t want to answer, not even to herself. If she did, Misty was afraid the alternative would be even more terrifying. It would mean that he might just be telling the truth, and she wasn’t willing to risk her heart that way again.

“Misty?”

She blinked, refocusing on Lysander with an effort. “I’m sorry. I was just…” Misty stopped and took a deep breath. And then she said in one quick burst of speech, “I’m so afraid to trust him again.”

The chance he had been waiting for finally arrived, and Lysander took it without a qualm. Keeping his movements slow and unthreatening, he went to the other side, taking a seat next to Misty. He clasped her hand. “I can only imagine what you’re going through, Misty. I know it’s confusing – especially with the kind of man Domenico Moretti is. He’s perfect in every way. It’s hard for any woman to think she deserves to be at his side.”

Lysander was stating out loud her every fear, and she could only nod, silently grateful that he wasn’t beating around the bush like the others did. Her family, her friends, all of them thought Domenico had been the fool to lose her, but a part of her felt just the opposite. A part of her believed that their separation was inevitable because she never did deserve to have someone like Domenico.

Reading Misty’s face like a book, Lysander continued, “Maybe you and the prince were never meant to be, but---he did not have to deceive you that way. It was not the right and honorable thing to do.” He squeezed her hand so she would look into his eyes as he said quietly, “That’s why I understand if you have a hard time believing him. In fact, I don’t blame you at all for not believing him.”

Misty bowed her head, inhaling several times just to keep the tears at bay. It was her first time to hear such words. Everyone around her had kept telling her that although Domenico had been a world-class jerk, he deserved a second chance. Maybe he did, but was it so unreasonable for her to be unwilling to risk her heart again?

This was her life, not anyone else’s. If most thought she was a fool to have thrown the chance away of being a true mate to Domenico Moretti, then that was their problem.

She was a strong woman now, and she didn’t want again to go back to being the weak naïve fool she had been when she was married to Domenico.

When she finally controlled her tears, she looked up at Lysander with a tremulous smile. “Thank you for that,” she whispered. “I feel so much better…” Her hands fluttered in the air as she sought for a word that could perfectly describe what Lysander’s words meant to her.

In the end, all she said was, “Thank you.” She moved close, her breasts grazing the sleeve of his shirt as she kissed his cheek. “I’m so lucky to have met you.”

And this was yet another moment he was waiting for.

Lysander carefully pulled Misty close into his embrace, inhaling the scent of her hair. “Anything for my beautiful co-ambassador,” he murmured just before allowing himself to let her go.

Outside Misty’s cottage, Domenico shifted into a wolf, his claws raking the ground as he worked to bury his rage. It was that or lope towards where his woman was and kill the man attempting to seduce her from him.

The scent of the younger man’s arousal tainted the air like garbage, and he watched with fierce burning eyes as Misty walked Lysander Allard to the door. She tiptoed once again to kiss him on the cheek.

He wanted to howl his rage, his jealousy, his hurt.

Misty.

What else could he do to make her believe him?

~~~

Domenico Moretti was in a foul mood the next day. Misty had seen it before, how his aloof façade was completely burnt away by his temper, and though Domenico did not say anything to her, she also instinctively knew that she was the one he was furious with.

What had she done?

The tour around the realm was postponed for no reason, with Domenico instead requesting in a cold voice to discuss with Misty and Lysander the Faeries’ defensive strategies within and outside their realm. Throughout the day, the only time Misty had seen him smile was when he had dismissed Ivory’s offer of assistance, promising instead to meet with the woman for dinner.

Domenico was well aware of the way Misty had stiffened as he invited the other woman to dinner and was coldly satisfied by it. He was a Lyccan, and emotions like possessiveness and jealousy were deeply ingrained in him. If she had thought he would simply take the fact that she had allowed another man into her home lying down, then Misty didn’t fucking know him as well as she once did.

“I believe Misty brought up the issue of a possible attack of vampires coming into your realm,” Domenico said as the three of them walked into the courtyard where soldiers in training continued with sword practice.

“Vampires will not be able to enter this realm.” Lysander stated it matter-of-factly.

Domenico stated just as matter-of-factly, “They will be able to if one of you invited them in.”

Lysander tried not to bristle at the assumption. “My race is not the betraying kind.”

“There are always bad apples, Allard. You should do your best not to forget that.” Before the other man could speak, Domenico nodded towards the training ground. “Shall we practice for a round?”

And then they were sparring, Lyccan against Faerie, and the soldiers immediately gathered around them, with Misty unable to believe that Domenico and Lysander were going against each other just like that.

But…this was practice. She didn’t have anything to worry about---

She screamed when Domenico’s sword actually drew blood. “Domenico, stop this!”

“This is how you practice using your swords,” Domenico said coldly as he moved away and they started to circle each other once more. “Your sword was forged in blood and it is designed to kill. Honor the memory of your dead by learning how to goddamn use the weapons you were given.”

Lysander suddenly disappeared from view. Although he was invisible to the eyes of non-Faeries, members of his race had no problems seeing him, appearing like a semi-transparent figure, and they held their breaths, wondering if this would finally put the Lyccan prince at a disadvantage.

Domenico didn’t miss a beat. Relying on his heightened senses, which Faeries were not blessed with, he used Lysander’s scent to detect his location and made a sudden jab, catching Lysander by surprise once more with another fresh wound.