Page 32 of Furry Equations
“I’m not pacing.”
“Really? Because those footsteps sound suspiciously like pacing. Very alpha-like, dominant pacing.”
He stopped mid-stride, fighting a smile. “Are you mocking me, Dr. Grant?”
“Me? Mock the big bad alpha? Never.” The door opened, and Marcus’s breath caught in his throat.
Natalie emerged in a midnight blue gown that seemed to float around her curves like liquid starlight. The neckline dipped just low enough to make his wolf growl possessively, while the slit up the side offered teasing glimpses of leg as she walked.Her blonde hair was swept up in an elegant twist, exposing the delicate line of her neck.
“You’re staring,” she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she moved to the hallway mirror.
“Can’t help it.” He moved behind her, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “You’re stunning.”
Her hands faltered as she put on her earrings. “Smooth talker.”
“I’m serious.” He stepped closer, inhaling her scent. “Every man at that event is going to want you.”
She turned, nearly colliding with his chest. “Good thing I only want one man then, isn’t it?”
His wolf howled at her words, but anxiety still gnawed at his gut. “We could skip it. Order in, watch one of those science documentaries you love...”
“The ones you fall asleep during?” She reached up, straightening his bowtie. Her fingers brushed his neck, sending electricity down his spine. “Nice try, but I’m not missing this award ceremony. Do you know how rare it is for a woman under forty to win the Morrison Prize?”
“I could buy you ten awards.”
She smacked his chest. “That’s not the point and you know it.” Her expression softened. “I need to do this, Marcus. I can’t hide forever.”
He caught her hand against his chest, holding it over his heart. “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You just have to stand there, look devastatingly handsome, and try not to growl at anyone who talks to me.”
“I don’t growl.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You growled at the UPS guy yesterday.”
“He was looking at you inappropriately.”
“He was telling me where to sign!”
“While staring at your?—“
“If you say assets, I’m taking an Uber.”
A real growl rumbled in his chest this time. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Her laugh echoed through the hallway as she grabbed her clutch. “Then behave yourself, Mr. Big Bad Alpha, and escort me to this event like the gentleman I know you can pretend to be.”
He caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest. “I’ll show you big bad alpha,” he murmured in her ear, delighting in the way her pulse jumped.
“Marcus.” His name came out breathy. “We’re already late.”
“Fashion demands it.” He nuzzled her neck, right where he wanted to place his mark.
She squirmed away, her cheeks flushed. “Down, boy. I spent an hour on this makeup, and I’m not letting you ruin it before my big moment.”
The drive to the Metropolitan Museum of Art was torture. Natalie spent it reviewing her acceptance speech on her phone, occasionally mouthing words to herself. Marcus spent it fighting the urge to order his driver to turn around and take them home where he could keep her safe.
“Your brooding is audible,” Natalie said without looking up from her phone.