She was only here to please her parents—at least that’s what she told herself. They knew how she felt about the colony’s archaic expectations. But still… she hadn’t wanted to disappoint them. They’d always loved and cared for her, even when traditions dictated otherwise, and she figured it would cost her nothing to honor this one small aspect of colony life. However, she refused to acknowledge the niggling worm of hope that she might catch a certain man’s scent over the course of the night.
Reese was too intuitive for a male, especially for an alpha male. In the old days, his choice to think rather than to act would’ve made him appear weak. But anyone who knew him knew Reese Valiant was every ounce an alpha. He’d proven himself time and time again in physical and mental agility. He broke long-held records for both physical acumen and strategy. His father had been alpha, and Reese had been the firstborn. Even so, no one could say he hadn’t earned his place.
The door opened, startling Abby, and in strode Reese Valiant. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. A few inches over six feet tall, golden amber eyes, dark hair cut short, and a jaw so sharply square it could probably saw a board in half—yeah, the man was drool-worthy. Add to that all those muscles tucked into a custom-tailored suit and fancy shoes, and you had all the sexy you could want.
Except she didn’t. Okay, okay, she did, but he was way out of her league. Reese had gone to an Ivy League school so he had brains in that yummy package, too. Well, what did it matter? Every other female in the line seemed ready to swoon, and many of them were more his match. They were dressed to the nines: wearing high heels to lengthen the calves, short dresses to hint at their firm thighs, material cinching their trim waists, cleavage to showcase pert boobs, make-up to highlight sharp cheeks and full lips, and enough hairspray to peel away the earth’s ozone layer.
When she dressed this morning, she stopped short of shoving herself into one of her brothers’ hockey shirts, a pair of jeans, and her favorite Converse sneakers. But, you know, the parent thing again. So, she’d brushed her hair until it shone and wore it long and straight. She’d been blessed with creamy, blemish-free skin—yay, Shafer genetics—so she only put on eyeliner and mascara and lip gloss with a hint of sparkle. She wore a simple green dress that swirled around her knees and a pair of nude flats. She didn’t own high heels.
“And you are?”
Abby looked up into the golden gaze of Reese Valiant. Shit. He’d already gone through half the line? Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Why are you talking to me? Maybe he’d mistaken her for a server. Say hi to the man and let him move on, you dolt.
“Abby Shafer.” Unnerved by his stare, she thrust out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The women on either side of her gasped, and she realized she’d just made a huge mistake. You have to at least act submissive to the alpha, said her mother. Keep your eyes down, try to smile, and say nothing unless he talks to you.
Reese took her hand and grasped it. His fingers were strong and warm and that otherwise polite touch sent an electric shiver straight through her.
“Reese Valiant.” He let go of her hand and smiled. “But you probably knew that.”
“Didn’t have a clue,” she answered. “I thought I was in line to meet the alpha.” She leaned forward. What the hell, right? She was already in trouble. “I hear he’s going to pick a bride the same way I pick ripe fruit.”
His smile turned into a laugh. He took her hand once more and pulled her forward. To her shock—not to mention the shock of everyone else—he proclaimed, “I have chosen.”
Not: I have chosen her. And her. And her. And her, too.
Not: I have chosen. Ha, ha! Just kidding!
He’d said, with complete confidence, “I have chosen.”
No contest. No other choices. No challenges to be met.
Just… I have chosen.
“Are you insane?” Abby whispered, staring up at him. “I’m the least qualified woman here to mate with you.” She frowned, leaning closer still and keeping her voice low. “I don’t wear high heels. Or make-up. And I’m terrible about being submissive. I don’t know the first thing about being an alpha’s mate. I am trouble. Just ask my mother. Are you sure you don’t want to look again?”
“Why would I look at the other fruit?” he teased. “I’ve already found the perfect plum.”
* * *
The bright moon pierced the darkness of the Big Thicket. A beautiful mess of trees, moss, and marsh, the forest in Southeast Texas was the sovereign domain of the werecougars running and leaping through the muggy July night.
Two by two, the werecougars split off, yowls echoing through the dense woods as shifters engaged in mating.
Two of those cougars, one larger than the rest with golden fur and a smaller one with darker fur, more on the side of dirty sunshine.
They reached a small clearing. To the left was the entrance to a cave. Abby followed Reese into the dark space. The male cat loped ahead and Abby paused, shifting into her human form. Her heart trilled. Holy crap. Mating with the alpha. This had to be a dream, because reality had always been a bleak bitch.
“Abby.”
She followed Reese’s voice, its gentle demand guiding her. The alpha lounged by the fire, reclining on thick blankets, waiting for her.
“Is this part where you tell me this is all just a prank?”
“Yes,” he said drily. “I picked you as
