Wolf and Punishment (The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 1) (11 page)

In the distance Janelle heard her mother say, “You know I don’t pay attention to all that football nonsense.”

“Well, he’s pretty good, Wilma. Trust me. Probably would have helped the Suns get all the way to the Super Bowl, except he’ll definitely be retiring early now. No way the Lupine Council would let him lead a state
and
play pro ball. And here’s the best part: he’s from here! He’s from Alaska. Bad Wolf, but still… he’s a local. That means we have an in. Dale says Rafe came to him because the new king wants a pledge meeting but doesn’t know where to start since he’s new to our society. Guy like that, rough guy, wrong side of the tracks. He’s going to want somebody pretty to come home to, somebody who already knows her way around good wolf circles. And since he’s new to this royalty business, he’s not necessarily going to be factoring in things like age and fertility the way an inherited king or prince would.”

Wilma’s face lit up with newfound joy, like all her prayers had been answered. “This just might work,” she said. Then she just about giggled with the glee of a possible match for her now long-in-the-canine’s oldest daughter. “What’s this new king’s name again?”

“Mag… ah… Mag… can’t remember his last name.”

“Lonewolf,” Janelle said, her voice soft with memory. “His name is Mag Lonewolf.”

King Tikaani pointed at her, a proud smile breaking out across his face. “See, Janelle was paying attention to my football games! That’s why she’s always been my favorite daughter.”

11

H
ELL of a lot of trouble to go through for a girl, Mag thought to himself as he looked out the window of Dale’s study. He watched the Ataneq family emerge from the car that had driven them from the airport to the Colorado kingdom house: three younger she-wolves, the King and Queen, and a young black man, Mag guessed was the cousin appointed to accompany her youngest sister whenever she went outside the kingdom town.

All the women in the family were attractive but in different ways, Mag noted with detachment. Janelle’s mother was a peacock of a she-wolf, large and in-your-face in her leopard print wrap dress, which put all of her assets on display—from her large chest to her generous backside.

The other tall she-wolf, who Mag assumed was Janelle’s sister, Alisha, due to all the professorial vibes she was throwing off, was built similarly to their mother. Big and beautiful, although her assets were way more covered up under a blouse, wide-legged pants, and a corduroy jacket with actual patches on the elbows. However, she wasn’t exactly achieving the academic look she was clearly going for. Her porn star-level curves immediately brought to mind one of his brother’s favorite videos:
Big Bangin’ Bods: Hot for Teacher
.

The curvy professor said something to the rest of the family before leaving her bag behind with the two kingdom house servants who had come out to greet them. She headed down the driveway toward the main road that led into the rest of Dale’s kingdom town. Her sisters and cousin waved goodbye, but her parents watched her go with some serious disapproval in their eyes. Yeah, this one was definitely the academic black sheep Janelle had told him about.

That meant the shortest she-wolf in the group, the one with the large Afro and dressed like she’d commissioned her wardrobe from a Skittles factory, must be Janelle’s youngest sister, Tu.

Finally he allowed his eyes to go to Janelle. He’d actually thought checking out her mother and sisters first would make it safer to look at the woman whose betrayal had been burning bitter in his mind all these years.

It didn’t. Her beauty hit him like an electric tour bus. All quiet before the big crush of bones and vital organs. She looked the same as she had at twenty-two except with slightly more sophisticated clothes, and hair that now hung in a straight, silky black sheet with fringe bangs as opposed to the waves she’d worn them in three years ago. Also, she was even more graceful, from the expression on her face to the way she slightly inclined her head to listen to what her sister, Tu, was saying without hunching her shoulders like he always did when dealing with shorter people. It was like watching a music box ballerina come to life and interact with the real world.

If Janelle sensed she was being watched, and watched hard at that, she didn’t show it. But then he got the feeling she was used to being watched. It explained all the morning talk show hostess he’d gotten off of her when they first met, like she was always playing a part in somebody’s highlight reel.

“Still beautiful, isn’t she?” Rafe said, joining him at the window. “Hopefully your pledge meeting with Tikaani goes well. I don’t think you could find a better she-wolf to mate.”

“We’ll see,” Mag said. “Thanks for putting the bug in Dale’s ear, though. I think I’m on better ground with her dad if he don’t know I was the one who asked for the meeting. Heard from your dad he’s a tough negotiator.”

“You heard right. Also, as sheltered as they’ve kept Janelle, I doubt knowing you already met her at a human night club would help your cause.”

“No, probably wouldn’t,” Mag agreed, his eyes staying on Janelle until she and her family disappeared inside the house. “Thanks for throwing this party so I could ‘meet’ her for the first time.”

“No problem.” Rafe’s eyes followed Alisha as she walked down the main road. “Just wish he hadn’t insisted on bringing his whole family. I understand him wanting his wife to come along, but bottles always mysteriously start disappearing from my whisky collection whenever Tu comes to visit. And Alisha distracts Chloe from her hosting duties. That’s probably where she’s headed right now—to Chloe’s house.”

Mag slid a look at Rafe. He understood his buddy’s irritation about his whiskey disappearing. But… “You don’t want Alisha here because she distracts Chloe from her hosting duties?”

“Yes,” Rafe said, his jaw setting. “Hosting duties are an important part of how our society works, and if she does a poor job, it reflects badly on me. You’ll understand what I mean if this pledge meeting goes well with Tikaani—though you’ll never have to worry about any of that with Janelle. She’s a true princess, as dedicated as they come to serving her crown.”

Mag still thought that was some petty reasoning against not inviting Alisha on Rafe’s part, but whatever. Rafe had warned Mag when he had come to him with his plan to challenge the new Wyoming king that the world of wolf royalty was nothing like the RV caravan Mag had grown up in. Maybe the royal version of Rafe was different from the one Mag had always known. Maybe when he was princing around his kingdom town, he really did get his panties in a bunch if his fiancée didn’t treat her party hosting duties like a life or death mission. Because judging by the way Rafe was staring at Alisha’s retreating back, his eyes hot with resentment, you really would think the only thing the guy cared about was the way Chloe reflected on him.

Still, Rafe was his best friend. Had been his staunchest ally when it came to getting his wild card and a state crown, and unlike certain Alaska princesses, Rafe had never made him feel like he didn’t deserve everything he went after. Three years in the cut-throat world of professional football had taught Mag you couldn’t pay for friends like that. Literally. There were guys on his team who actually paid dudes to hang out with them. They called it having an entourage, but Mag knew what was up. And, more than once, he’d seen entire ride-or-die entourages disappear, poof!, into thin air after a career-ending injury.

Not Rafe, though. He’d had Mag’s back from day one. Mag wasn’t about to start judging the guy now.

A knock on the door cut their conversation short. Dale Nightwolf, the King of Colorado, stuck his head in. Dude was only a year away from divestment, but he looked more like a prince than a king about ready to hand over his crown, a slightly shorter, even leaner and lighter version of his son with his sharp cheekbones, long nose—homage to his almost pure Cheyenne heritage.

However, his voice was all king when he said, “Come on out of there, Son,” to Rafe. “Tikaani’s here to talk to your friend.”

MAG HAD NOT PAID Tikaani Ataneq much attention when he’d been watching the Alaska royal family arrive at the Colorado kingdom house. But now he was seated across from him and only a few degrees from being face-to-face—with Dale serving as their triangle’s high point behind his gigantic burl ash executive desk. Mag studied the man he’d never formally acknowledged as his sovereign king while growing up.

Unlike Dale, Tikaani did look his age, with salt-and-pepper hair on top of his head and around his mouth in the form of a well-groomed goatee. His eyebrows verged on bushy, and Mag recognized Janelle’s trademark warm expression in the permanent crinkle of her father’s eyes. He looked like he would burst out into laughter at any moment: Santa Claus’s Eskimo son. And Mag began to understand why Dale had pre-warned him about Tikaani being a tough negotiator. If not for that warning, it would have been easy to underestimate the man as a gentle soul who had nothing but everyone’s best interest in mind.

An image of Janelle gifting him with that Ducati helmet floated across his memory. Obviously the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

King Tikaani also seemed to be studying Mag, and nothing in his expression said he didn’t fully approve of what he saw. In fact his first words were, “I can see from those tattoos on your face that our heritage is strong within you. You’re going to get what you want at all your business meetings from now on, I’ll tell you that.”

Our heritage.
Like this Eskimo Bill Cosby would ever tattoo four horizontal lines across his face, two for each of the wolves he had killed. According to Rafe, the Alaska king had never even had to fight a challenger himself, thanks to the Detroit beta he’d been gifted with when he married the then-Detroit king’s only daughter. Mag could tell the plump Alaska king had never had to kill anything himself for more than sport. If his hunt didn’t go well, his pack would still eat, and it hadn’t been necessary for his rich-ass kingdom town to apply for permission from the human government to kill a whale for the sustenance of their village as other packs had. The truth was, Tikaani, the latest in a century long line of kings, had no reason whatsoever to have an elderly woman with an ivory needle apply ink to his face.

But this was a pledge meeting, a negotiation, not a quibble. Mag decided to break out his now rarely used joking skills. “Maybe your daughter can get a few chin tattoos now that she’s available for marriage again,” he said, referring to the old practice of girls getting a gridiron pattern of chin marks once they went through puberty and were therefore ready to be offered up into pledge.

Tikaani laughed big and from the belly. “Well, Janelle isn’t vain, but she is one of the most beautiful she-wolves on the planet. Literally. I’m not sure if Rafe told you this, but she was crowned Miss Teen Wolf when she was eighteen and she still goes all over the states judging different pageants. Not sure chin tattoos would go with her beauty queen look.”

Tikaani winked at him. “Besides, I think having a more traditional bride would benefit you well, son. Janelle’s already very respected not only by our state pack, but also by wolf society in general. Plus, she knows how the game is played. If you have a deal you need to negotiate, you could play bad cop with the husband, while she takes the wife out for mani-pedis and charms the hell out of her. That’s why you want a wife like Janelle.”

Mag steepled his hands and leaned back in his brown leather reception chair, letting his elbows rest on its sloping arms. “I’m just wondering why you would be willing to pledge your daughter to someone from Freedom Town—or what is it the state pack calls us? Bad Wolf. From what I’m recalling, you official state wolves consider us a bunch of thugs.”

Tikaani eyes flashed with genuine respect—at least it read that way. After having dealt with his daughter, Mag suspected every spontaneous look that crossed over the Alaska king’s face was actually well-calculated.

Tikaani now winked at Dale. “I like this one. He doesn’t mince words. I can see why he and Rafe get along.” Then his warm calculation of a gaze swung back to Mag. “Did Rafe tell you Dale and I played football at Denver U., too? Except back then, Dale was the scholarship student, straight off the reservation, and I was the one with the inherited crown.”

“That’s right,” the Colorado king said with a nostalgic chuckle. Dale picked up the story so easily, Mag had to wonder if the two men hadn’t rehearsed it. “After I won my challenge for the state crown, Tikaani threw me a party just like the one Rafe’s throwing for you. Set up a pledge meeting for me with the King of New Mexico, who had a lovely daughter named Erylace. Told me, ‘if you’re going to make it in this society, Dale, you’re going to need a society wife.’ You know how that story ended.”

Mag’s mind went to Rafe’s sweet-natured Latina mother. She’d never been anything but unfailingly kind to both Mag and Chloe, even though she was a royal born and, according to Rafe, didn’t really approve of his choice in mates. Hearing the Colorado king and queen’s marital history made him wonder though…

“Surprised you didn’t try to hook Rafe and Janelle up,” Mag said. “Seems like they’d be a perfect fit.”

The smile didn’t fall off King Tikaani’s face, but it did stutter a bit. “Well, Rafe proposed to Chloe before we could really say anything about it either way.”

So they would have pledged the two to each other if Rafe had been willing to play ball. Interesting. “I see, so this pledge meeting represents a full circle for you and the King of Colorado that Rafe didn’t let you have.”

Another good old boy look between the older kings. “Yep, that’s right,” Dale said. “I’m vouching for you, and Tikaani’s vouching for his daughter. And I’m hoping you’ll know better than to look a gift wolf as beautiful and well-regarded as Janelle in the mouth.”

Mag un-steepled his hands. “Let’s talk terms. I’ve read over the pledge agreement you had with Wyoming. I’m assuming you’d want me to serve as your stand-in in exchange for a ten percent stake in your oil interest. Also, my first born son will be responsible for overseeing the state crown in the event that you don’t have any other male grandchildren in position to inherit the Alaska crown. Would those be your terms for me, too?”