Whatever you say, crazy chipmunk lady. Celia surveyed the crowd. On the south side of the common, Tobias leaned against a table, a troubled expression on his face. Estelle lingered by his side, her tight gold dress even more scandalous than Celia’s.
She felt a twinge of jealousy. A queen who knew how to dress for attention—that should be her role. Not that Estelle’s outfit seemed to have the desired effect on Tobias. He hardly looked at her.
But where the hell was Oswald? And why do I even care? Celia edged closer to the action, peering between the dancers for a sign of the golden-haired Tatter.
Instead, what she saw was Cadonia, pulling Thomas close in a dance that went beyond friendly. She clutched him in a tight embrace, running her hands over his back.
Gross. Celia forced herself to look away and walked the perimeter, scanning the southern edge of the common.
Then she spied him, leaning against an ash tree in the shadows, a wooden cup in his hand. For a Tatter living in a backward wolf village, Oswald always seemed remarkably well dressed—his shirts clean and unwrinkled, perfectly fitting his athletic frame.
She averted her eyes. For some reason, she felt nervous approaching him. But why? It wasn’t like anything had happened between them. It had just been a tactic. Anyway, she’d hooked up with plenty of boys. Oswald wasn’t any different. Not that she’d been thinking about hooking up with him in the first place. Not only was he a Tatter, but he was arrogant as hell.
She threw back her shoulders and crossed the grass. Oswald didn’t seem to notice her, and she felt a moment of self-doubt. What exactly was she afraid of? Sure, he was beautiful, but it wasn’t like she wanted him as a boyfriend.
As she drew closer she schooled her face into a confident expression—a slight smile, unruffled. Just a few feet away, Oswald’s eyes met hers. He didn’t smile, but his eyes sank to her low neckline. He smelled amazing—apples and freshly laundered clothes.
She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “Hanging out by a tree. Looks like you really know how to enjoy a party.”
“Are you looking to dance with me? I was hoping to enjoy my drink first.”
“You need to get drunk to dance with a beautiful woman?”
“Not big on humility, are you?”
“You’re one to talk.” Cocky bastard. She had a sudden desire to pull him close again, though whether it was to fight or to dance, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was the music was intoxicating—or maybe it was the wine. Her pulse racing, she inched closer.
His eyes darted to the common, and Celia followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”
“The wolf queen. Guess she didn’t find the mate she was seeking.”
So Oswald knew about this whole finding-a-mate thing, too.
Celia caught sight of Estelle. She had a stormy look on her face as she strode purposefully across the grass into one of the narrow streets.
Oswald thrust his cup at Celia. “I’ve got to go.” He hurried into the shadows, following Estelle back in the direction of her house.
What the hell was that about? And what was Celia supposed to do—just stand here holding his drink like an idiot? Whatever Oswald was up to, she wanted to be a part of it.
She downed the rest of the blueberry wine, setting the cups on a table as she passed. When she glanced at the revelers, she saw the party had heated up even more. Cadonia and Thomas danced on a table to a song with a deep, pulsing beat. Cadonia hadn’t been kidding. The whole town was letting their hair down tonight.
Everyone except Celia, who’d just decided to stalk Oswald through the village like some kind of psycho. She slipped through the dark streets, keeping her distance as he prowled to Estelle’s house at the other end of the village. What exactly was his interest in the she-wolf? Maybe he wanted to make sure she planned to fight the Throcknells. Or maybe he was looking for a mate. In which case, my presence would be more than awkward.
But Celia couldn’t quite stop herself.
A warm light glowed from Estelle’s living-room windows. He wasn’t inside, was he? Something about the thought of Oswald sneaking off to find Estelle alone made Celia’s chest tighten. He couldn’t be looking to mate—not with her.
Frowning, she considered her options. I can’t spy from the front of the house, but I could poke around in back. Her pulse speeding up, Celia crept around the perimeter. Oaks loomed tall overhead, blocking most of the moonlight, but she caught a flicker of movement on the lawn—a figure crouched in a shrub under one of the living-room windows. Oswald, peering in the window like a Peeping Tom.
As quietly as she could, she snuck through the overgrown garden, closing in on him. But a twig snapped under her foot, and his head whipped around.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.