He was late.

Katherine wasn't generally a stickler for punctuality, but the Alpha of Darkmoon's apparent inability to be where he was supposed to be, when he was supposed to be, irked her far more than she cared to admit.

It had taken a monumental effort to force herself to venture this deep into Darkmoon territory, never mind march up to the Alpha's house itself and demand entry. If she'd possessed an ounce of common sense she'd have refused his invitation as soon as she'd recognised his soft drawl over the phone. Instead, determined to prove she was in no way intimidated by him or his wolves, she'd practically served herself up on a platter of complete stupidity.

Whatever was taking him so long? She pushed a strand of hair from her brow with nervous fingers, trying not to think too hard about her current predicament.

She’d knocked, half expecting to be run off immediately, but to her dismay, the stern-looking man that answered the door had wasted no time ushering her into this study, assuring her that Alpha Asher would join her shortly.

He had been surprisingly solicitous for a wolf, offering her a drink and inquiring if she were warm enough, and she found herself stammering that she was perfectly comfortable, thank you. He'd quickly retreated, and she now felt obliged to wait and see the whole thing through despite her nerves fraying far beyond all reasonable expectations.

He's late, she repeated to herself, resisting the urge to bolt towards the closed door. He asked – no, demanded – that I come here, and now he can't even be bothered to show up on time. Agitated by the delay, she chose to ignore how relieved she'd been to receive word that he was at least willing to discuss the matter in person.

Unsure if she were irritated more by him or herself, she forced her feet over to the windows, and gazed out at the grounds beyond, in a futile attempt to calm down.

At the centre of the Darkmoon pack lay a stately home in pieces. Once a sprawling manor, the years had worn away the opulence leaving behind creeping ivy and crumbling stone. Rather than waste precious resources on constant repairs, previous Alphas had opted to tear down two of the four wings, separating the stables from the rest of the building and leaving behind sprawling gardens full to the brim of plants designed to resist any form of control or order.

Yet, despite this, Katherine sensed no air of neglect. The ivy was well groomed, the remaining buildings showed signs of regular maintenance and, while wild compared to the neat lawns and flowerbeds she’d seen surrounding other stately homes, the gardens clearly flourished in their freedom. First impressions suggested an owner disinterested in making more work for himself than necessary.

The quaint study, in which Katherine had been so politely deposited, was decorated with sage greens and soft greys. Floral accents on the curtains and cushions blended seamlessly with warm wood panelling and comfy chairs. A fireplace dominated one wall; an original feature of the house it seemed, and floating shelves filled another, full of files, books, and miscellaneous clutter. The room had a country cottage feel that was at odds with Katherine's preconceived opinion of the Alpha as a confirmed bachelor. But it was clear that, while a woman may have had a clear influence in this room, she certainly wasn't around to tidy up anymore.

Katherine had been raised with certain opinions of werewolves, many of which remained firmly in place. She had been fully prepared to encounter a pack as wild as their reputation, but the few wolves she'd seen since entering the estate had kept a respectable distance; curious but wary, and certainly not the confrontational denigrates her mother had preached about so often.

She shifted uneasily. The house was eerily quiet. She'd heard no voices, no footsteps - only the relentless ticking of a clock somewhere out of sight. Another five minutes dragged by.

I’m alone at the heart of a pack of werewolves, she suddenly realised. And no one knows I'm here.
Perhaps he'd changed his mind? Perhaps his message had been intended as some sort of strange joke? Or a trick to lure her away from the safety of the village and --

"oh, stop that," she scolded herself. Her imagination was running wild enough without paranoia making things worse. Whatever the reason, imagined or otherwise, rudeness obviously numbered among Asher's other numerous shortcomings. Once again, she questioned how she had talked herself into this monumentally stupid meeting.

Desperation, her subconscious reminded her. Desperation and her last option.

Keen to divert her overactive imagination, Katherine began exploring the room. If he didn't want her to pry, she reasoned, he should have been on time. Framed by a large window that bathed the surface with light, his desk was filled with paperwork, newspapers, and notepads. Each pile, though a mess at first glance, seemed oddly at home as though deliberately placed in some order she couldn't understand. It told a story of organised chaos that she daren't risk disturbing.

The shelves were lined books of all sizes. Huge leather-bound tombs sat shoulder to shoulder with pretty, silk covered pocket books no bigger than the palm of her hand. She lifted one carefully and flicked through the pages. Tiny, neat handwriting filled the book from end to end, dates scribbled in the corners. A diary so personal, she quickly returned it to the shelf, a flush of embarrassment bringing colour to her cheeks.

The books proved equally fascinating and frustrating at the same time. An avid reader, she browsed the titles eagerly: "Ciceronus opera, Herodotus Gronovii, Ultima Verba En Illustrium," she read out loud.

Interesting... she'd never equated werewolves with any particular level of bookish intelligence. That they were dangerous and cunning she knew all too well, but Asher's collection surprised her. Behind one particularly large book - Magia Natvalti - lurked a hidden bottle of rum with two tumblers. She snorted softly. That was more like it, perhaps they were displayed more for decoration after all?

Several readable titles were just as mysterious to her: "Morals of the Ancients. The Luna's Peril. The Devil's Daughter." They nestled between piles of ordinance survey maps, travel guides, and a surprising number of board games; some she recognised, others she didn't, but all showing signs of frequent use.

Front and centre, between a pair of comfortable armchairs, sat a beautiful, hand-carved chess table, the delicate pieces frozen mid match. Black clearly had white on the run, but they still had a chance to win with a couple of clever moves. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. It seemed the Alpha liked games.

A glance at her watch told her he was now nearly half-an hour overdue. She abandoned the shelves and wandered over to the mantle piece, where photos frames of various sizes and styles fought for space.

She found herself drawn a photo of a woman and toddler, both with striking silvery blonde hair and matching emerald flecks in their hazel eyes. She moved in for a closer look. Sat on a beach with crashing waves in the background, the toddler had his arms flung about the woman's neck, and her smile was filled with joyous, silent laughter. That has to be Asher's mother, she mused. Perhaps she was the original owner of the diaries?

Hidden behind the picture, almost out of sight, sat a small silver frame. The photo within had thin, but prominent stress lines across the surface of the ink as though it had spent several years being carried around in someone's pocket. A young girl in her late teens posed for the camera, blonde hair cascading down her side, and a small but mischievous smile playing about her lips. She seemed to stare directly at Katherine, a sultry, beckoning look in her eyes. The overall effect was so intimate that Katherine felt guilty even looking at it.

She turned instead to a large leather frame that sat pride of place as the dominant photo on the mantle piece - four teenagers side by side, their arms flung around each others shoulders in camaraderie.

Asher, unmistakable even years younger, stood right next to another boy so achingly similar they could be twins; their hair the only real way to tell them apart. The third boy was taller and of a bigger build than the others; slightly more reserved, but still sporting a reluctant smile. The fourth, the smallest, had shocking blue eyes and hair even lighter than Asher's. All four were clearly related and looked so relaxed and carefree that it was hard to believe they would grow up to be men as dangerous as she knew they were.

"Wolves," she corrected herself firmly. "Not men. Wolves. Never lose sight of that..." A faint sound from beyond the heavy oak door sent her skittering back to the sofa. "And never let down your guard. No matter how handsome they appear to be."

Despite her hasty retreat, no one materialised on the other side of the door, and she continued to wait, the ticking of the clock so relentless she was tempted to find it and throw it out of the nearest window. Finally, her nerve broke. Full of nervous energy, she rose so abruptly, she created a small breeze that caught up a pile of papers balanced precariously on the side table, scattering them across the carpet.

"Shit," she exclaimed, dropping to her knees in a desperate attempt to gather them up. What was she doing? She knew leaving wasn't an option. She had to at least hear him out or her grandmother might... Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes, could anything else possibly go wrong?

"Katherine?" A pair of smart, brown boots appeared in her line of vision. She froze. Her horrified eyes travelled up a pair of snug denim jeans, over a smart shirt covering a broad, masculine chest and connected with sparkling, chestnut eyes that looked quizzically down at her hunched figure, once again dishevelled and in need of assistance.

His disconcerting gaze swept over her face, before crouching by her side and gathering the remaining papers with one swoop of his hands. Scrambling to her feet, her cheeks blazing, she handed him the small handful she'd collected and sank into her chair.

"Thank you," he murmured politely as though he'd knocked the papers over himself. "I hope you haven't been waiting long?"

"Well, I..." had never known thirty minutes could feel like a life time... "You're late." She accused.

"I am," he agreed, "and for that, I apologise. I always seem to be needed in two places at once these days. I had urgent business that couldn't wait, forgive me."

She felt her mouth fall open. Confusion flooded over her. She had expected a flippant reply, full of arrogance and dismissal, and had instead been offered a sincere apology, regret clear in his voice.

"That's... that's okay," she found herself saying. "I wasn't waiting that long."

He settled his frame in the chair opposite her, stretching his legs in front of him and crossing his arms over his chest; for all the world looking like he was about to engage in a casual conversation with a friend.

“You received my letter,” she began wishing his dark eyes would not stare at her quite so intently. “I assume that's why you... invited me here today?”

“I did.” His expression was one of sanguine amusement. “It's not often I receive any missive via pen and paper nowadays. Most people prefer email.”

“I don’t own a computer,” Katherine admitted. Neither did her grandmother who despised technology of every sort. She muddled along quite well with nothing more than an old rotary phone and a decades old television. “Besides, I had no other contact details for you.” How he'd managed to secure her telephone number was anybody's guess.

“How long has it been since we last ran into each other?” he continued politely. “Three months? Four?”

“Four.” During her last visit to the garage to see if they'd made any progress with her beloved Bug. Much to her chagrin he had attempted to persuade her that her car might not be worth repairing. Which meant both times Katherine had encountered the Alpha of Darkmoon, he had succeeded in infuriating her beyond even her low expectations. The frustrating thing was, she couldn't provide a single, valid reason why he riled her up so much.

His status as a werewolf was more than enough to put her on guard, of course. His status as a Hunter had ignited a deep, personal resentment as well... but neither of those things should have been enough to trigger the urge to throw things at him every time they met.

She'd run into members of the pack before, of course. One could hardly avoid them in such a small town. But that hadn't stopped Katherine from making every effort to try, and over the years each visit to her grandmother’s house had ignited an extended game of 'spot the wolf' or, what her grandmother referred to as: 'a ridiculous amount of unnecessary dramatics'.

Since her return, Katherine had been forced to concede that they had shown nothing more than a natural curiosity toward the newcomer in their midst, and certainly none of the aggression her mother had taught her to expect. But that didn't mean it wasn't there, bubbling away under the surface, and Katherine was careful to never let her guard down around them.

Perhaps that was it, she mused. His refusal to act the way he was supposed to.

“ – in well?”

She blinked. Oh, shit. He'd been talking to her. She flushed, appalled by her own inattentiveness. “I'm so sorry, could you repeat that?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth. “I said, I hope you've settled in well?”

As well as she could in the one place on earth she despised more than any other. “I... yes, thank you. Very well.” Damn her inability to be anything but polite.

“You've been here for around seven months now, is that right?”

“Eight,” she corrected. Eight months, two weeks, three days, to be exact, but who was counting?

“Eight months...” he murmured, the amused expression on his face suggesting he could read her inner thoughts as easily as you would read a book. “It's astonishing we haven't run into to each other more often.”

Not really. Katherine had done everything in her power to ensure it. Writing that letter and actively inviting his solicitations had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

“I don't normally encourage visits from random humans into my house, but for you...” His gaze slid over her face and down her body “.... I am delighted to make an exception.”

Her cheeks grew even warmer, and she cursed inwardly. He was enjoying this! Refusing to be distracted any further, she pressed on: “As you know I wanted to discuss some sort of arrangement to pay my brother's debt to you... I assume you know the debt I mean?”

Of course he did. Although it had taken several weeks for Katherine to uncover the full extent of her brother's irresponsibility, his gambling was hardly a secret in the village. Left to his own devices, Johnathon had been a frequent visitor to the local gaming halls for well over a year, including the one run by the Darkmoon pack.

After spending every penny he had chasing a win that never seemed to materialise, he'd borrowed instead, and now owed debts in so many places their grandmother had all but drained her savings trying to keep up with them.

But only recently had Katherine discovered the deeds to the family home were missing from her grandmother's papers. Then to discover he had lost them to none other than the Alpha of Darkmoon himself... It was the closest she'd ever come to physical violence.

Asher’s nod confirmed he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Then I must ask you to return my grandmother's house,” she said stiffly. “I cannot pay what it is worth, but I have some savings and...”

The laughter left his eyes. “I'm sorry, but I cannot fulfil your request.”

Disappointment surged through her. “Why not? It does not rightfully belong to you.”

Although his expression was still that of a polite host, his eyes darkened imperceptibly. “Are you implying that I cheated?”

Katherine shifted uneasily under his hard gaze. “No, I'm not saying that at all! I just...” How to word it? “My... my brother is young and foolish and he – ”

"He's nearly twenty, hardly a child."

Katherine bristled. "In your world, maybe. He didn't know what he was doing when he – ”

Asher’s eyes narrowed. “He did. I made sure of it.”

“Made sure he was drunk, more like. But regardless, the deeds – ”

He appeared to ignore the insult. “There's no drinking at my tables. If you want a drink, you go to the club next door. Gambling should be a sober affair.”

Katherine snorted. “Gambling should be no affair at all.”

“I take it you do not share your brother's interest in cards, Katherine?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. I'm the worst card player in the world.”

A flicker of amusement returned to his gaze. “I can well believe it. It's too bad others are not as honest about their abilities as you. I warned your brother. Encouraged him to leave before placing such a large wager. He wasn't interested in listening.”

Cold fury seeped through her. “But you took them anyway? Why? You must own enough properties already without needing any more.” Asher owned nearly half the houses in the village as it was. “And besides, this – ”

Asher laughed sardonically, apparently determined to interrupt her at any cost. “Is it possible to own too many properties?” He studied her with an intense scrutiny that threatened to break her already fragile confidence. “You must know mine isn't the only gambling den your brother frequents. This coast is littered with establishments just as eager to remove your brother of his assets as mine.”

“I know that, but...” She faltered as a cold, cynical light leapt to his eyes.

“Do you really think you'd be having this conversation at all if a human had possession of those deeds? Despite your rather obvious poor opinion of me, I think you'd quickly find that they don't play nearly as nice as I do.” His lazy gaze once again dropped from her face to explore her body suggestively. “Or perhaps with them, you'd be willing to offer a different kind of payment for your brother's debts?”

“I beg your pardon?” For the second time he had managed to thoroughly confuse her. Then his insult registered. She shot to her feet, humiliation washing over her and whirled towards the door, not even attempting to admonish him.

Her flight was stopped only by his strong fingers closing over her wrist. More than a little frightened, she tried to jerk her hand out of his iron grip, his intimidating nearness and the warmth of his hand making her heart pound alarmingly. Surely he wouldn't...

Helplessly, she stared up into his dark eyes, mesmerised once more by the emeralds glittering deep within. His expression, so cold only moments ago, was now warm with amusement.

“Please don’t leave, Katherine, I apologise for my behaviour, my intention was not to frighten you. I was merely curious to know exactly how far you would be prepared to go in your efforts to play the part of your brother's saviour. I believe I have my answer.” Gentle fingers caught her chin, tilting her face to his. “I promise, I have no intention of seducing you in my study.”

Memories of the last time he had held her wrist skipped around her head. The smell of the sea mingling with warm spices. Her breath caught in her throat. “I... I... please let go.”

He instantly dropped her wrist. The laughter in his eyes rendered him dangerously attractive, and only served to aggravate her further.

How dare he laugh at her? “I can't say you're behaving any better now,” she snapped, the memory vanishing in a storm of frustration.

His eyes danced, totally unrepentant. “I'm afraid I generally don't behave very well. My Aunt in particular is very fond of informing me of that fact.”

Katherine had never detested anyone more in her life. She swallowed her anger, forcing herself to remain calm. “Give them back.”

“No.” Blunt though his answer was, the twinkle in his eyes remained, and she had the strongest  feeling he was still laughing at her. “What will stop him gambling them again? Had I refused him, your brother would have taken them elsewhere. At least with me they're relatively safe. And my pack isn't at risk of exposure.”

“I will.”

“You will what? You can't stop an addict getting his hearts desire, Katherine.”

She didn't need to. She squared her shoulders, drawing confidence from the knowledge that she still had a final card to play. “As I've been trying to tell you,” if you hadn't kept interrupting me, “the deeds are not rightfully yours to keep because your wager wasn't legal.”

He raised one perfect eyebrow.

“The house is in my grandmother's name, Jonathon stole them. Any wager he made should therefore be null and void.” She regarded his suddenly closed expression carefully, hoping he would at least be reasonable when presented with all the facts. “As I tried to explain, I have some savings that may go some way to offsetting your loss, and we will, of course, find a way to pay back the rest. But I must insist that you return the house to us. I will make sure Jonathon has no opportunity to take them again.”

His expression, far from one of defeat, held a hint of pity as he made his way over to his desk and unlocked one of the drawers. From within he pulled a familiar parchment and she eagerly approached, but he showed no sign he was about to hand the over, instead unfolding them onto the desk. “I'm afraid on that score, I can offer you no help either. The bet was legal in all respects.”

She frowned. How was that possible? She stared down at the deeds in dismay. “With trembling fingers, she traced the signatures at the bottom of a recent addendum; the transfer of the property from a Mrs Margaret Haversham, to her grandson, Mr Johnathon Haversham. “Oh, Grandma,” she sighed softly. “What have you done?”

The last of her hope withering away with each stroke of those wretched signatures, tears threatened once more. Now what would they do? “You invited me here to tell me it is hopeless,” she murmured.

“No, not at all.” Asher returned the deeds to his desk and gestured towards the chairs, encouraging her to take a seat once more. “In fact, I have a proposal for you that I think may benefit us both.”

She frowned, swallowing back a strong desire to scream into one of the nearby cushions. “A proposal? I don't understand...”

“Please sit down.” He waited until she perched on the edge of the chair, his expression, for once, completely serious. “Katherine, I would like you to spend the next six months as my future mate... or my betrothed, as you human's call it. In return, I'll give you the deeds to the house and write your brother's debt off in full.”