The Wallflower

“Max?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Max put his briefcase down next to the sofa and headed for the bedroom, pulling his tie off as he went. “How’d your…day…go…”

Emma stood in the middle of the bedroom in the pirate outfit he’d picked out for her. The skirt hit her mid-thigh, just as he’d predicted. The boots hit her just below her knee, showing off an awful lot of skin.

The thigh-high stockings were nowhere in evidence, not that she needed them. She’d had her hair styled in a half up, half down thing, with curls and twists she normally didn’t have, framing her face beautifully.

The frilly captain’s hat was the icing on the cake.

Her makeup was a little darker and richer than she normally wore. The pale rose lip gloss she preferred had been exchanged for a darker shade, closer to wine. Her eyes were dark and smoky. Thick gold hoops adorned her ears and around her neck was a stylized golden cat. She stood with her hands behind her, an uncertain look on her face, the toe of one boot digging into the carpet as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror she’d moved from her apartment. She looked like a confection just waiting to be eaten. “Max?”

“Huh?” God, he hoped she didn’t want him to actually talk, since he was pretty sure he couldn’t form complete words, let alone sentences.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and bit her lip, and Max nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Are you sure this skirt isn’t too short?”

Max gulped as he took her in from her incredible face to her edible legs. “Is that a trick question?”

Emma rolled her eyes, some of the uncertainty leeching out of her face as she turned back towards the mirror. “Why don’t you go take your shower and get dressed? We have to be at the Friedelinde’s in an hour.” She reached up to adjust her breasts in her bra and Max nearly fell on the floor. When she shimmied everything back into place, he practically ran for the bathroom. It was either an ice cold shower or throw her to the ground and mount her, to hell with Jonathon Friedelinde and the masquerade.

He showered quickly, since ice bathing wasn’t his favorite sport. He dressed in record time as he listened to Emma putter around the great room muttering to herself. At the last minute he remembered to grab the signet ring before going to gather up Emma.

When he stepped out of the bedroom, he was gratified to see Emma just as spellbound as he’d been when he’d seen her costume. His long jacket was burgundy, with the same gold embroidery that was on her waist cinch and overskirt. Black lace peeked out at his wrists. He wore a black shirt with a black lace jabot underneath, skin-tight black pants and black boots cuffed just below his knees. He carried his saber since he couldn’t wear it while driving. His tricorn hat was black with gold trim. Three black feathers in the hat polished off the look.

“Oh boy. If we don’t get out of here now, we are so going to be late.” Emma’s voice was husky with desire and her eyes had turned gold. Max had to struggle not to push her up against the wall, free his aching cock and give them both what they wanted.

Max clenched his hand around the signet ring and stopped, the ring reminding him of something important he had to do before they left. “Wait, give me your hand.” Emma held out her right hand. Max took it and gently slipped the signet ring of the Curana onto her middle finger. The Curana’s ring was identical to his own, but smaller and daintier. Two stylized pumas surrounded a gold oval, paws to tails.

In the center of the oval, the face of a puma had been engraved with two yellow diamonds for eyes.

When she looked confused Max held up his own right hand, displaying his ring on his middle finger. “You are my Curana. Now everyone will know it.”

Emma stared at the ring on her finger, a slow, utterly content smile stealing across her face.

“Livia is seriously going to shit a brick.”

“ Emma! ”

Laughing, she rose up on her toes and kissed him with all the love in her heart, knocking both their hats to the floor in the process.

Chapter Seven

Emma had never seen so many versions of pirate wench and pirate captain in all her life. The wenches ranged from modest, immodest, to downright erotic. One woman actually bragged that her pirate costume was by Playboy! Considering how little there was of it, Emma didn’t doubt the woman; compared to her Emma felt as covered as a nun. Then there was the usual assortment of ghosts,

vampires, witches and ghouls, with a rare werewolf thrown in for fun. Jamie and Marie Howard had both come as gunslingers in matching black outfits and cowboy hats, both looking happy and proud enough to burst over the success of their party. They were the first to notice the ring on Emma’s hand, and, with warm smiles and friendly hugs, they congratulated her and Max on their mating.

As Max and Emma moved through the crowd, other people came to congratulate them. Jonathon Friedelinde was polite, if somewhat cool. It irritated Max, but Emma understood on some level that Mr.

Friedelinde was taking a “wait and see” attitude. In fact, Jonathon’s attitude was the one that prevailed among the men as more and more people became aware of Max’s mating. Everyone had expected him to pick someone as strong as he was, and none of them truly believed Emma was strong enough. The women, on the other hand, were, well, cattier. By the time they found Adrian, Max was trembling with the need to force his will on all of his Pride and make them accept his mate, something that would diminish Emma further in their eyes.

“Hey, Adrian.” Emma smiled wearily. By the end of the first hour, she’d become so busy holding Max back that she didn’t have time to worry about her outfit.

“Hey, Emma. Congratulations.” Adrian dipped his head to her with a warm smile, shocking her. She’d had no idea Adrian was one of them.

Max nodded back, and Emma followed suit. “Thanks, Adrian. Have you seen Simon yet?”

“Oh, you mean Zorro?” Adrian grinned, gesturing with his hand. “He’s over there, trying to chase down this cute little bandita.”

“Becky’s here?” Emma craned her neck and went on tip-toes, but it was no use; she was just too damn short to see over anybody. With a huff, she settled back down and glared at Max, waiting.

“Would you like to go see Becky now?” Max asked, smirking. He was staring off to his left, tracking someone through the crowd.

“Frigging tall people,” she muttered, trying to see past the crowd of bodies to where Max was looking.