Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

the schedule I have just inherited, but I would like to move forward with the ceremony sometime next month. I will make the announcement later today and, afterward, make arrangements for your press conference in Cleveland on Saturday afternoon.”
    “Agreed.”
    “My Lord.” The Rege gave a bowing nod and gestured. The screen faded out to the wolf rampant and shield, then faded to black.
    Again the crowd howled. Gregor leaned into Johnny’s ear. “Someone was spotted coming up the steps. Kirk has gone to investigate.”
    “Good. Where are my pants?” Johnny wanted nothing more than to vacate the room and have a few minutes alone to gather himself.
    Gregor gestured and a valet hurried up with a long, thick robe. He held it open for Johnny.
    Johnny didn’t budge. Rage boiled up inside him instantly—in his mind he knew he wasn’t even angry, but the rash, hot rage begged to be unleashed. His forearms itched. Only desperate resistance, like clenching some mystical muscle, kept his fingers from sprouting claws ready to slash Gregor for his mistake. “Dude. I said pants .” It was a struggle to keep his voice even.
    Gregor snapped his fingers and the valet scurried away. “Forgive me. As you are confirmed now, I assumed a robe would be more . . . kingly.”
    “I don’t wear robes,” Johnny snapped.
    Gregor tipped his head. “It will not happen again.”
    The crowd quieted into the white noise of happy chatter, and The Dirty Dog—the pack’s official bar—was mentioned repeatedly. Some were leaving already.
    The valet hurried back with black denim jeans. Johnny grabbed them from him. “As long as I can still bend over and put my legs into my pants, I wear pants.” He wouldn’t admit that donning jeans in public felt distinctly undignified. “Besides, the new Rege didn’t call me king.”
    “He won’t until after your coronation. But here, to your pack, you are king already.”
    Johnny zipped the jeans. He wanted everyone gone. He wanted to be alone and get a grip on what was happening to him. He flung his arms up and shouted, “To The Dirty Dog!”
    As expected, cheers rose and people converged on the exit. It was the quickest way to empty the room and buy himself a moment of privacy.
    However, as the pack massed at the doorway, the air of the room shifted, and a distinctly not-wolf smell filled his nostrils again.
    Red.
    Johnny deserted Gregor, inexorably drawn to Persephone’s aroma. It always made him want her, but tonight, because he hadn’t seen her in days, her scent was new all over again. That newness made his reaction stronger. He was getting hard just thinking about touching her.
    When she came into view, the wide neck of her sweatshirt slipped and his attention stuck on the pale skin of her bare shoulder. Her dark hair lay against soft flesh and he brushed the tendrils away and reached behind her neck. His fingertips buzzed with a vibration he knew was her energy—he’d never noticed this gentle and enticing sensation before.
    Must be a perk of unlocking my tattoos.
    She was always beautiful, but more so when all her skin was exposed and the smell of her sex mingled with his. Add this little electric feeling . . . if it was amplified when their bodies were entwined— God I can’t wait to fuck her. He leaned down for a kiss.
    Shouts rumbled at the doors.
    He turned.
    Voices raised in complaint as someone pushed into the room, impeding the flow of those leaving the room. In a heartbeat, his top guard appeared, towing Zhan behind him by the arm.
    “Guess who thought she could sneak into the den,” Kirk said as he approached. “An Offerling.”
    Zhan said to Persephone, “You didn’t text.”
    “There’s no reception in here. I tried. Johnny was in the middle of the ceremony, and I couldn’t ask for access to a landline to call. Sorry. But I did tell them to expect you.”
    The distinct scent of ginger lingered around Zhan, with a hint of death sealed into the marks given her by Menessos. They all knew the Asian woman was Seph’s bodyguard—and that his own Asian guard had ulterior motives. “Let her go,” Johnny said.
    Kirk gazed deeply into Zhan’s eyes. “What if I’d rather hold on?” His question was seductive and inviting.
    “I don’t respect any man who won’t follow orders.” Zhan jerked free.
    “I’m not after your respect, China Doll.”
    Johnny smelled the desire radiating from both of them—even Zhan, though she would have denied it. He didn’t