Page 78 of Mated By the Alphas
“It was no relationship, if that’s your concern,” Hayden clarifies. “Just a wolf with an empty bed and a need he couldn’t satisfy. That’s how we all were after the last she-wolf died. Except Wyatt. He handled it better than us.”
“Until I found my mate,” his happiness is apparent in the tone of his voice. “Now, she’s the only one who could ever satisfy me.”
“Same here,” Remy says as he walks back into the room. “And now that Daisy’s in bed, I think it’s time for us to retire for the evening as well. With you, of course.” He smiles.
“Unless Wyatt wore you out,” Hayden says, standing up.
“I might have one more in me,” I say, grinning and glancing at Wyatt. “Will you be joining us tonight?”
“Only if you want me to,” he says.
“I have at least three mates,” I say, reaching for his hand. “It wouldn’t be right to leave one of them out.”
Wyatt pulls me close for a kiss. Remy and Hayden approach from behind, both kissing my neck. Goosebumps spread across my skin. I moan into Wyatt’s kiss, and as soon as his lips leave mine, Remy turns me towards him.
“Been dying to do this all day,” he rasps, kissing me deeply.
We make our way upstairs, where I get claimed by three hungry wolves multiple times before we fall asleep together, exhausted, tangled in the loose embrace of my mates
.
The next day, Daisy is a little hungover, but in a tremendous mood again. I shower, eat breakfast, then get escorted to my apartment by Hayden. Once I change clothes and get ready, he drives me to work.
“One of us will be nearby throughout the day,” Hayden reassures me.
“I’ll text you if anything happens,” I say, leaning over to kiss him.
York Financial has become my refuge since this began. Not that I need to escape my mates, but the world feels so much different now. Wolves, vampires, Scions. It’s nice to have a temporary diversion from it all. Something that still feels normal in the midst of the chaos.
I start my day by preparing the report about Blithe Holdings for Ms. Frost. Once that’s done, I work on the reports for the other companies. One looks like an easy investment. The stock prices have gone up and down for years, but they always trendedupwards after big announcements, and several are planned for this year.
The second company doesn’t look like a great investment. It could be a sleeper, but the trends aren’t promising, their last few financial reports have been lower than expected, and there’s nothing to indicate the trends will change.
By the afternoon, I’m happy with my reports for the first two companies and dive into the information about the third company. It’s intriguing. It’s a company called Nebula that is making advancements with AI, and while they’re not an industry leader, they’ve had some promising results that haven’t been reflected in movements in their stock prices.
I’m finishing my report when I feel a strange sensation sweep over me. Like someone is watching me, similar to what I felt at Fletcher’s Bar, but it’s different. It feels heavier and more intense, like the air itself has changed, charged with something I can’t really identify.
I stand up and look around, noticing a man standing outside my boss’s office. I don’t recognize him, but I can’t look away.
He’s taller than me, just over six feet. His attire suggests he’s wealthy. His hair is blonde, but it looks too golden to be natural. It’s swept back from his face in waves that seem to remain in place, without even a hint of product. His eyes are blue, but they’re pale, almost crystalline, like a blue flame. When they meet mine, Ifeelthem, like a physical touch against my chest.
“Weird,” I mutter, but then he starts walking towards me and I tense up.
He’s got a smile on his face. A warm, friendly smile that eases some of my tension as he gets closer. He’s practically oozingcharisma without saying a word. It just seems to radiate off him, and everyone he passes seems to notice. They look. They stare. They grin when he passes.
“You must be Ansley Ellery,” he says. He’s more soft-spoken than I anticipate, and his fiery-blue eyes study me for a moment. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You… you have?” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you.”
“No, we haven’t met yet,” he says, extending a hand. “I’m Daniel Lumen. I’m one of York Financials’ biggest investors, and I’d like to invest a little more, but that depends on you.”
“I’m sorry, what? Depends on me?” I ask, my stomach tightening. “I just started working here.”
There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it. Maybe I’ve read a feature about him on one of the investment blogs I follow. It’s hard to remember all the wealthy people who invest heavily in the stock market, even the ones who get their advice from York Financial. I haven’t been here long enough to know everyone.
“Ms. Frost said you’re the one responsible for my investment in Blithe Holdings paying off considerably well,” he continues. “She said it was your recommendation that convinced her not to sell, and after she talked with you, she called me to offer the same advice. I was unsure, but… turns out you have a knack for this, hmm?”
“I, um, I hope so. I thought it was a good investment,” I admit. “Could be beginner’s luck, but I also do thorough research.”
