The Telladay Conservatory was a sparkling jewel of Crescent City, its many panes of glass glittering whenever the sun came out from behind the marine fog. With one of the finest collections of plants among the collective of city-states, the conservatory often hosted events for the prominent and influential. On that day, Wilhemina Fitch, celebrated philanthropist, was about to receive a lifetime achievement award for her fifty years of conservation work. All living members of the Fitch family were present with their matriarch, and all clapped dutifully at every speech given about her tireless efforts in documenting and protecting the flora of the local forests.

All except one: Jennie Gould, just married at twenty-three and already disillusioned with her husband, who was thankfully away on a business trip. From her spot at the back of the Fitch clan, it was easy to slip away unnoticed and seek out the orchid exhibit.

The plants were enclosed in their own greenhouse to keep the air at a certain humidity. Dampness clung to Jennie's sable stole and silk cloche hat as she brushed past huge ferns and ornate orchids, intent on the two massive marble statues rising above the trees used to host epiphytic specimens. Each sculpture depicted a woman holding a pitcher at her side, with real water streaming out into the decorative stream below. A wooden bench waited between the statues for any visitor who wished to sit and enjoy the tranquility.

Yet Jennie's excited smile had pinched into a frown. The bench stood empty—and that was the problem. She was alone despite having been told to meet at this precise spot. She stepped closer to the nearest statue, staring at the bench as though sheer will might conjure up the figure who was supposed to be there. After another moment, she leaned back against the statue with a huff.

The act left her unaware of someone stepping out from behind the towering marble, or of the hand reaching for her face until it clamped over her mouth. She managed a squeak of shock before being pulled back until the bulk of the statue hid them from view.

"Mrs. Gould?" purred a man's voice in her ear. Then he released her enough to allow her to face him.

Jennie's next breath was a gasp of delight as she took in the wild gold of his eyes. She had never seen a wolf in the flesh before. They truly did look like a human except for the eyes. And apparently, the teeth...

As if sensing her thoughts, the wolf licked at his upper canine, emphasizing its sharpness. Jennie shivered and whispered, "Make it rough." Just as she wished Gerald would be.

Soon, she was pinned against the statue with her legs around him, panting while they moved to his rhythm. She bit her lip in bliss at his stamina and strength; he held her weight so easily. When her long fingernails dug into the fabric of his suit and raked across his shoulders, he didn't so much as flinch, and his gaze remained inscrutable when her breath rose into panting. She was being used for his pleasure, not hers, and she loved it.

She wanted to know if he was better at kissing than Gerald, and tried bringing her lips to his. Instead, the wolf muffled her mouth with his hand again, drawing out another shiver of delight. Then he bit her on the throat. That last bit of animal behavior pushed her over the edge, and she shuddered against him to the rhythm of her climax, toes curling while he finished as well.

Afterward, her ankles wobbled when she tried to stand. Her hair was as disheveled as her blouse. The wolf hadn't even lost his hat during their business. He offered a hand until her balance steadied out. Despite her request for brutish behavior, she appreciated the gentlemanly gesture and used it to sit on the bench.

"Well," she said, still dazed. "My friend was right about you. You aren't even breathing hard."

The wolf simply shrugged and fixed his tie. His smile looked faint but not mocking, and Jennie found herself rubbing her legs together, wondering if there would be enough time for a second round.

Then came thunderous applause in the distance. She jumped to her feet with a gasp. "The dedication must be through. I have to go."

Without waiting for a reply, she rushed out of the greenhouse and into the main parts of the conservatory, returning in time to merge with the rest of the Fitch family in following Wilhelmina to the special banquet prepared in the redwood grove.

No one had noticed her disappearance, and only one other visitor to the Telladay Conservatory saw her rejoin the others. Cerise Chevalier smiled as the other woman disappeared from view. Rumors traveled fast among certain circles, and she knew little Jennie had been trying out the wolf that was a well-kept secret among the bored socialites of the city. Cerise decided to see if he was still around, and wove her way through the small streams of people perusing the different exhibits.

She found him among the roses alone, studying a bush with clusters of dark burgundy blooms that looked soft as velvet. Her arrival garnered a glance and brief tip of his hat.

"Are you really pretending to be more interested in these than in me?" she said, brushing one of the flowers. Then her fingers brushed over his perfectly knotted tie with the same possessiveness.

He appeared unruffled. "We meet at six this evening."

"And then I've got you for the next twelve hours."

When he only nodded, she caught his jaw and turned his head to force him to look at her. In response, his growl rumbled against her fingers, and his expression hardened to the point where she didn't dare run a thumb over his mouth like she'd first planned.

"Don't push at my civility," he said. The growl had slipped into his voice as well. "You can play your mistress games with me tonight. Not before then."

Cerise shrugged and dropped her hand back to his tie. It was difficult not to let her lips curl in satisfaction. As she'd suspected, he liked to be the one in charge.

Good. It would make breaking him all the more amusing. She had done it to so many men that it had become boring. Repetitive. A wolf would be a true challenge, especially since her ego demanded more than paid submission; by the morning, she wanted to make sure she had his blind obedience.

In the meantime, rattling him would suffice. She tugged his tie loose and said, "I would have thought a whore would be well-used to the pull of a leash. You're willing to do anything for enough money."

Yet his cool manner had returned. He tucked his tie back in place and said, "And you were willing to pay three times my usual rate because you wanted a wolf instead of another human. So, what's the problem?"

"There isn't one," said Cerise, and laughed. "As a matter of fact, you're perfect. Wear a midnight blue jacket when you pick me up this evening. I want you to match my dress."

As she later found out, he did, and was also able to hold his end of the conversation during dinner while she slipped among the topics of politics, philosophy, and art. His earlier irritation had been replaced with a quiet confidence that some might have mistaken as a withdrawn nature. No attempt to fawn at or seduce her was made; they were smiling combatants and both knew it. The point of the dinner was to be seen, for him to cater to her while those around them who knew of her reputation cast knowing—sometimes disdainful—glances his way.

Afterwards, she had him take her back to his apartment, and was glad to see that all the items needed to play with him had been set out on red velvet cloth. It was a pleasing touch on his part, but he still acted removed from it all, giving her his attention without fear or anger in those gold eyes.

"Very nice," she said, glancing around the apartment with one hand on her hip. "As luxurious as any fine gentleman's."

The wolf smiled slightly while moving over to the decanter of scotch. "I can't complain."

She kept her voice silken. "I didn't say you could have a drink."

He looked over at her, eyes sharpening. She half-expected the clash of wills to begin, but his movements remained smooth as he set the glass back down.

"Good. Now, come here."

He approached in silence, gaze steady on her while she ran hands up the back of his head and down again. She caught his black bow tie and tugged it. This time, he didn't resist.

"Very good." She undid it and then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his neck and chest. Gorgeous, but there was one thing missing to heighten her lust.

The wolf's jaw tightened slightly when she picked up the collar, but he remained still as she buckled it around his throat. "This is the only thing I want you wearing for the rest of the night. Take off everything else."

He did, movements efficient. She knew his plan; she had paid for his obedience and that was all he would give. He thought he could remain aloof to this session. Good. The harder he fought to separate his will from hers, the harder he would fall into the pleasure of submission. By morning, he would beg to become her pet. She was sure of it.

"Kneel," she said, once he was done.

His expression revealed nothing as he followed the command, or when she brandished a riding crop at his face.

"Taste it." The next time she gave this order, it would be covered in his sweat and blood.

He licked along its length without hesitation, but his stare had the cold appraisal of an animal aware of its cage.

Anticipation tasted cherry-sweet on her own tongue. "Now, we begin."

The dark hours of night passed. The glittering lights of the city disappeared with the moon beneath the first rays of sunlight—a rare yet cheerful break from the usual dawn fog.

Louise Wheeler checked her watch while stepping through the entrance of a posh apartment building. Despite her visit with Flossie, it was barely seven o'clock in the morning. A disgustingly early hour to be awake, especially for the elite of the city. Most wouldn't have gone to bed until four or five, exhausted from a night of parties and scandals. The fella she sought out would be awake, though; she'd heard rumors that left her sure he wouldn't have been allowed to rest.

Her heels rapped against the black and white tiles to the elevator. The machine's cables whirred with the weight of an arriving car. Then the metal doors were slammed open by hands clad in blue velvet gloves. Out walked Cerise Chevalier, expression frigid.

Louise arched an eyebrow at the woman's evening outfit. It was easy to see she'd spent the night at one of the apartments, and just as easy to figure out which one. Well. The rumors had been right. She knew Cerise enough to guess what she had demanded—or commanded—from the wolf. It seemed this Tobias Rosewood really would do anything for the right price.

Then Louise noticed the angry flush on the woman's high-boned cheeks. "What's the matter, Cerise? Find out a wolf is made of tougher stuff than your usual fellas?"

"Some animals are too stupid to train," the other woman spat back.

As she passed by, Louise saw that Cerise's right hand clenched something that matched the color of her gloves, rendering it almost invisible: a leash. Laughter burst out of Louise before she could stop it. "Did you really think you'd be leading him out with you?"

"Go crash another car."

Louise just laughed again. Cerise only lost her temper whenever she lost at her games as well. Strangely, the other socialite's anger only added to her interest in Rosewood. It seemed he was truly professional with his clients, there for whatever was agreed upon and nothing more. That made him an excellent match to Flossie's needs. Fun without the trouble of a fella who demanded attention or, even worse, love.

She knocked on the door with the right address and lit a cigarette while waiting. Within two puffs, Rosewood answered, freshly showered and half-dressed.

Louise took a few moments to eye him up and down with appreciation. Wolves always seemed to pack muscle better than men. This one looked both strong and chiseled in his undershirt and trousers, with the right hint of danger to his face and manners. A perfect specimen, really, virile instead of brutish.

"Rosewood?" she said, and took another drag. At his nod, she added, "Good. Let me in so we can talk."

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, a hint of wryness appearing in his eyes. "That's not how this works."

A nice voice as well. Rough and deep, just like a wolf's should be. Louise grinned. Yes, he really was perfect. "I'm no dummy. I'm here to negotiate a job, nothing else. Besides, there's no use testing you out. You'll still be catching your breath from the night with Cerise."

He ran a thumb over one eyebrow, clearly debating with himself whether to throw her out. "You're not exactly winning me over."

"I don't need you to like me. If I want a wolf, I can catch an alpha-king. No, I have something different in mind."