The Wolf Princess

Her mate. The One.

That is, she reined her thoughts in, if she actually believed in such things. Which she didn’t. The concept of true mates was nothing but romantic nonsense.

Still, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder.

When she’d been a teenager with raging hormones, devouring two or three romance novels a week, she’d often imagined her type. She’d firmly believed he was out there somewhere, waiting for her. Waiting to complete her.

This man, this Dr. Streib, with his dark, craggy features and ancient, sightless eyes, wasn’t remotely what she’d pictured or even what she found herself attracted to. Yet, as improbable as it might be, she felt an instant, senseless certainty that he was The One. The only One.

Of course, she immediately discounted that, preferring to consider those few seconds as a bit of romantic foolishness left over from her teenage years. One last shred of the silly adolescent she’d been, rising from the depths one last time, only to be ruthlessly quashed, never to appear again.

Dr. Streib, she told herself, was nothing to her. Nor would he ever be. She’d suffer through his ridiculous tests, let him pretend he had the slightest chance of learning the answer, and then send him home with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

As far as she was concerned, the day couldn’t come fast enough.

The sooner she got rid of him the better.

Chapter 2

As soon as Her Royal Highness Princess Alisa of Teslinko opened her mouth, Dr. Braden Streib knew he was in Trouble with a capital T. Because his wolf reacted strongly to her voice.

Strongly being the understatement of the year. Throughout his thirty-eight years, he’d periodically fought with his lupine half. Everyone did. When the wolf wanted out, he wanted out. The place or time didn’t matter to the beast. Most times, subduing the urge to change was a simple matter, using a light touch and a firm resolve.

Not so, this time. This time, his wolf fought like a caged, wild thing driven mad by a long captivity.

At first stunned, Braden successfully battled the beast back into submission, trying to understand what had just happened.

For some reason, whether from the sound of her voice or her intriguing, feminine scent, Princess Alisa affected his wolf, intensifying his urge to shape-shift.

This made absolutely no sense. Braden had no scientific rationale on which to base this supposition. Yet simply being in the same room with her resulted in an epic battle between his human and wolf natures.

Something about her mere presence in his proximity spoke to him on a subconscious level. Something primal, compelling. And completely without reason. The scientific part of him abhorred such illogic.

But the part of him that was wolf didn’t care about reason, or logic, or even common sense. The wolf inside him reacted simply to external stimuli, which in this case was her. Princess Alisa was, for some unknown reason, the catalyst. His wolf reacted to her with a violent certainty.

Making him at war with himself.

Not good, especially since his first impression of her wasn’t a good one. The woman was stubborn and arrogant. He could hear it in the impatient, irritated tone she used.

Of course, he supposed that was to be expected. She was royalty, after all, not used to mingling with common mortals like himself. Presented with an opportunity to do something that might help not only her own country but shifters around the world, she’d balked. No doubt she planned on sulking like a spoiled child and making things as difficult as possible when they worked together, hoping to shorten the amount of time he would require her.

Her ploy wouldn’t work. He’d tough it out. He might not like her, but he had no choice. If he could have chosen another subject to use in his research, he definitely would have.

But her kind was rare. In fact, she was the only one he’d heard of who could go so long without changing and continue to exhibit no outward signs of madness. So he would have to use her, whether he or she liked it or not. Life wasn’t always a bowl of cherries, something that had been proven to him over and over.

She’d imperiously demanded he remove his dark glasses. He’d complied. After he’d done so, he waited for whatever pithy comment she’d come up with.

He heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated she’d only just realized the extent of her rudeness. Waiting for the inevitable apology felt a bit anticlimactic, so he decided to head her off at the pass.

“Now, about the experiments … I was thinking four hours in the morning before lunch, then if you can spare the time, another two hours in the afternoon. Will that work for you?”

His rapid change of subject worked as a distraction. She sputtered, whatever half-hearted apology she’d been about to utter forgotten. “Six hours a day? That’s impossible. I have way too much to do to be able to agree to that large a block of time. I was thinking more along the line of an hour a day.” Her tone made it clear she thought she was being generous.

Braden bit back a retort. He couldn’t help but wonder if the king and queen enjoyed watching them spar the way spectators did at a tennis match. Whatever they were doing, they were awfully quiet. He didn’t like quiet people—silence made it difficult for him to visualize them.

“Dr. Streib?” The princess touched his hand, sending an odd frisson of electricity through him. “Are you listening to me? I cannot possibly work with you for more than an hour—or two at most—a day.”

“Ah, so we’re going to barter for time?” Facing in her direction, eyebrows raised, he gave her a look plainly meant to tell her what he thought of her. To strengthen the effect, he left his sunglasses lying on the table in front of him, right next to the bowl of what smelled like fresh salad that the servers had just placed in front of him.

When she didn’t immediately respond, King Leo cleared his throat. “I think we’ve had enough discussion for now. Let’s enjoy our lunch, shall we? And then surely you two can work something out afterward.”

The reply Princess Alisa made to her father’s barely veiled command was unintelligible. Braden hid a smile as he fumbled for his fork, glad he finally would get to eat something more substantial than the dry breakfast bar he’d taken from the meager supply of snacks he’d packed for the trip. Across from him and next to him, he heard the clink of silverware on china as everyone began to eat.

Funny, how he pictured this place and these people. Judging from his booming voice and jovial tone, King Leo would be a robust man, with a full head of wavy hair and maybe even a short beard. Queen Ionna would be blonde and tiny and petite, with the kind of regal beauty found only in the movies.

While Princess Alisa … He puzzled briefly over her. No doubt she resembled a Barbie doll, all curves and plastic perfection.

Still pondering the images, he turned his attention to the meal. The salad was fresh and crisp, the dressing delicious, melting on his tongue. He barely got to enjoy the amazing explosion of subtle flavors before he finished the last bit of watercress and the servers began whisking away the bowls. Hurriedly, he put his fork down and instantly, someone removed his empty bowl. A second later, someone else placed another plate in front of him.

The next course, some kind of baked fish and evidently the main luncheon, smelled so good his mouth watered. He didn’t want to continue stuffing his face like a cretin, so he let himself savor the smell. “What kind of fish is this?” he asked politely.

“This is nase, one of our native fish and our chef’s specialty,” Queen Ionna said softly. “It’s a particular favorite in our country. I hope you like it.”

Her lightly accented English was pleasing to the ear. Thanking her, he nodded, well aware that even if the nase tasted like baked sawdust, he’d have to choke it down with a complimentary smile on his face.

Luckily for him, the first bite proved as wonderful as it smelled, which was no small feat. These days, since losing his vision, he was all about the scent, even as human. This had the added benefit of making him feel much closer to his lupine nature.

A companionable silence fell while they all dug in. Though ravenous, Braden couldn’t help but be über-conscious of the princess, or as he preferred to think of her, his subject, seated directly across from him. Even though he couldn’t actually see her, the odd pull he felt toward her was quite strong. He listened for some sort of signal that she’d finished her meal so he could once again bring up the subject of their schedule.

One of his flaws—and to be honest, he was aware he had many—was his absolute devotion to routine, especially these days. After all, maintaining a sort of precise order was the only way he could keep control of his now dark and sightless world. If he was to have a prayer of completing his research in the time the king had allotted, he had to make certain Princess Alisa would consent to more than a mere hour or two a day. Perhaps if she understood that at that rate, the testing would take months rather than weeks, she’d be a little more generous with her precious time.

As if his was worthless.

A light touch on the back of his hand made him start. “Did you enjoy the fish?” the princess asked, her dulcet tone sweet enough to constitute a warning that she was up to something. He didn’t know her well enough to know what, exactly.

Instantly alert, he murmured a polite response. Carefully keeping his posture relaxed, he waited for her to drop the bomb.

“If I am to spend copious amounts of time in your laboratory, then it’s only fair that you return the favor,” she told him. “I have need of an escort to attend several formal affairs with me.”

Sensing her parents listening with interest, he pretended to give her words serious thought. “While I would be honored, of course, are you sure you’ve carefully thought this out? I am unable to see, after all. As such, my usefulness would be quite limited.”

There. Sitting back and folding his arms, he waited for her response. No one, especially not a beautiful princess, wanted to walk around with a blind man on her arm. Now let her try to back out of that one gracefully.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” she said, barely missing a beat. “As long as you know how to dance, I can keep us pointed in the right direction. Other than that, your main duty will be holding my arm and trying to look interested while other people babble inanely to us.”

Surprised, he barely suppressed a snort of laughter. “Sounds like one of a hundred faculty gatherings I have to attend at CU, the university where I occasionally teach.”

“Then you agree to do this?”