Her stocking feet made no sound on the tiled and hardwood floors as she made her way toward the front of the apartment. The enormous and deserted living room felt like a museum gallery or a corporate function room at the moment, when there was no one around to fill it. It made Saskia feel even more uncertain and isolated to perch there on the edge of a taupe chenille sofa with nothing to do but sip her coffee and wait. She thought about retreating to the cozy den at the other end of the hall, but it felt somehow cowardly, and if she sat back there she might miss the moment when her mate finally returned. No, she'd tough it out here. It might make her feel like a little girl at the princ.i.p.al's office, but at least here she'd be able to hear the click of the front door opening and to see her mate as soon as he walked in. For that she would suffer a little awkwardness.

Saskia finished her coffee in silence, then sat there with the empty cup cradled in her hands for longer than she cared to think about. She tried to keep her mind blank and not speculate on where her mate might have gone and what he might be doing, but she was only mostly human. How could she not wonder about the message that had torn him from her bed-practically from her body-almost six hours ago and still not allowed him to return? Had he been hurt? Had someone else? Was it a business problem, or something more personal? Was he still even dealing with the issue he'd left for, or had he already moved on to something else? Or to someone else?

Not for the first time in her life, Saskia felt a twinge of envy for Lupine females. She might be more physically powerful than a she-wolf, but everyone knew that wolves mated for life. Once a Lupine male found his mate, that was it; he was done, no more bachelor ways. Tigers? Not so much. The expression "catting around" hadn't come into being without reason. Tiguri males tended to be infamous womanizers, and judging by the stories she'd heard about her fiance, she had little reason to hope her mate would turn out to be any different. She'd hoped for the traditional honeymoon period where Nicolas would be so enthralled by her newness and the newness of their mate bond that he would stay close to home and take advantage of having a woman available to him whenever he pleased. She admitted a part of her had even hoped that she could use that time to convince him he didn't need any other women, that she would be more than happy to see to his needs, all of his needs, if he was willing to make an effort to remain faithful. She had known it would be a long shot, but she had wanted to try. Now it looked like she had failed before she'd even gotten a change to make her argument. How was that fair?

Her dark thoughts had drawn her into a good sulk by the time the phone rang. She jumped at the sound, almost as startled as she had been last night when she'd heard the same sound. She hoped this call wouldn't cause the same kind of havoc. Maybe it was even Nicolas. After all, who else would call her on the morning after her engagement? Everyone who knew her would expect her to be spending the day in bed with her new mate. No one else would even think to disturb a newly engaged couple.

Lifting the receiver, Saskia felt a surge of nervous hope. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Saskia?"

The sound of a woman's voice dashed Saskia's hopes, but the fact that the woman had asked for her rather than Nicolas was some consolation. "Yes, can I help you?"

"You can if you remember me. This is Corinne D'Alessandro. We met at your party last night?"

The picture of the friendly, dark-haired woman popped immediately to Saskia's mind. She never forgot a face. "Of course I remember you, Corinne. I hope you enjoyed the party."

The woman laughed. "More than you, I think. At least no one was staring at me all night. I tell you, being the guest of honor at one of those things is highly overrated."

Saskia agreed, but she couldn't decide how to react. Why was the reporter calling her the morning after her engagement? She made a noncommittal sound and hoped Corinne would continue.

"Anyway. I'm sorry to call so early, but I decided to take a chance that with your man still sitting with the Council, you might be looking for a little company."

Saskia absorbed that information and felt the room tilt around her. "The Council?" she repeated hoa.r.s.ely.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

"Uh-oh," Corinne finally said, her voice full of discomfort. "Did I just totally step in it? Am I not supposed to talk about it? I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'm such an idiot. I'm probably the worst person in the world to have an inside line on what the Council gets up to. You'd think Missy and Reggie would know better than to tell me anything. Just forget I said anything. And accept my apology. And forget I called."

"No, wait!" Saskia said, afraid the other woman would hang up and leave her as much in the dark as she'd been since last night. "Don't apologize. You're fine. I just-"

She paused, reluctant to confess over the phone such embarra.s.sing details as the state of her engagement and the closemouthed arrogance of her fiance. She needed to be able to see the other woman's face if she wanted to be able to tell how her story was perceived. That way, if the reporter gave any indication of being shocked by the truth or of digging for a story in Saskia's and Nicolas's private lives, Saskia would be able to cut things off and repair any potential damage.

She took a deep breath and then took a chance. "You have no reason to apologize," she repeated, infusing her voice with rea.s.surance and a calm she didn't feel. "You surprised me for a second, but not in a bad way. I hadn't realized how nice it would be to have someone I could talk to about this kind of thing. I'm new to the city, and with the engagement and everything, I haven't had a chance to meet very many people yet, especially not other women my age."

"Well, then, I'll just have to introduce you around." Corinne's voice relaxed noticeably. "My friends and I decided early on that we girls need to stick together. Trust me, they'll be more than happy to welcome a new member to our little club."

Saskia blinked. "You have a club?"

"In a manner of speaking. We're all women who found ourselves mixed up with the Others in one way or another, mostly by falling in love with one of the big lugs. You totally qualify for membership."

"Um, thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Listen," she said, taking a deep breath and glancing around the empty apartment. "I've been feeling like an idiot rattling around this place without Nicolas all morning. I don't suppose you'd be interested in meeting me for a cup of coffee? I'd love to get out of here, and the idea of talking to someone I've actually met before would be my idea of heaven right now."

Especially someone who seemed to know more than her about her arrogant mate's current whereabouts. But she didn't say that.

"Actually, that sounds like a great idea," Corinne enthused. "My own worse half is occupied himself at the moment, and the last thing I want to do is find myself with nothing better to do than get some work done. Did you have someplace in mind?"

For a moment, Saskia's mind went blank. She realized she didn't even know what neighborhood her new home was located in, let alone what cafes might be nearby.

Corinne heard her hesitation. "If not, I know a great little place I think you might like." She rattled off an address. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect." Saskia repeated the information to herself, quickly committing it to memory. "I can be there in thirty minutes or less. How does that sound?"

"Better than a pizza." Corinne laughed. "I'll see you there."

Hanging up the phone, Saskia felt her heart pound with excitement. Maybe she'd be able to make a little progress on her fiance-wrangling project after all. Dashing back toward the bedroom for shoes and her purse, she felt a sense of optimism she hadn't when she woke earlier. This day was finally beginning to look up.

Using the address Corinne had given her and her handy familiarity with cabbies in cities around the world, Saskia made her way to the coffee shop downtown with a minimum of fuss. Stepping into the half-bas.e.m.e.nt s.p.a.ce, she spotted the other woman right away, waving at her from a small table tucked up against a low wall that divided the room in two. She smiled and waved back, then wove her way through a maze of tables to take a seat opposite Corinne.

"Thank you so much for this," Saskia began, neatly laying her purse on the empty chair between them. "I know it was short notice, just spur-of-the-moment, really, but-"

Corinne laughed and waved a hand at her. "Don't be silly. I admit, I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you some more after last night. I feel like a jerk admitting it, but I find your whole story fascinating."

"A lot of people do," Saskia acknowledged. "Even most Others find my people's traditions hard to understand at times."

"And that makes us sound like judgmental idiots. Or morally superior a.s.sholes. Either way, it doesn't paint me in the most flattering light at the moment."

Saskia smiled as the other woman made a face at her. "No, it doesn't. Trust me, I've certainly met examples of both those types, and you're nothing like either of them. If you had struck me that way, I wouldn't have said more than three words to you on the phone earlier, and I definitely wouldn't be here now."

"Oh, good. Then I can relax and start prying."

Corinne's grin came fast and proved contagious. Saskia found herself smiling in spite of her less than pleasant night, the expression lingering while a waitress stopped by their table and took their orders. When the girl stepped away, Saskia toyed with the spoon at her place setting for a moment while she gathered her courage.

"Actually," she began, hesitating over her words, "I was hoping to pry something from you, oddly enough. I should confess that my reasons for this invitation were at least three-quarters selfish. Well, maybe more like nine-tenths."

"Oh, thank G.o.d." When Saskia blinked, Corinne's grin curved wider. "It makes me feel so much better to hear you say that. I was afraid you would turn out to be just as sweet and kind and polite as you look, and if you were, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from hating you. I can't stand it when people make me feel like the rude, ruthless, self-absorbed person I really am under this charming veneer."

Saskia couldn't help herself. She laughed out loud. "Well! Um ... give me a minute to try and figure out how to take that!"

"It's a total compliment," Corinne a.s.sured her, thanking their server for delivering their coffee and waving away her offer to bring them anything else. "I already have one friend who treads dangerously close to the margin of sainthood. She's a kindergarten teacher, for Christ's sake. So I'm afraid I'm full up on nice people in my life. If you can promise to be at least somewhat selfish and demanding, we'll get along so-o-o-o much better in the long run."

"I think I can handle that."

"Good. So, in that case, tell me what horribly selfish reason you had for wanting to talk to me. I warn you, though, I'm tough to impress."

"Actually, it was something you said over the phone." Saskia skimmed the back of her spoon over the foam on her cappuccino as she stalled. "You mentioned that you thought I might be free to talk to you this morning because Nicolas was still dealing with the Council."

Corinne nodded. "And?"

Looking up, Saskia could read nothing but genuine curiosity in the reporter's expression. She looked as if she had nothing more invested in this conversation than her own personal interest. It was enough to give Saskia that last push of courage.

Taking a deep breath, Saskia took the plunge.

"I asked you to meet me so I could ask you what that meant. Nicolas walked out last night just before two thirty in the morning. He didn't tell me where he was going or what he had to do, and I haven't heard so much as a word from him since. So can you tell me what you know about what my fiance was doing last night? And this morning? Please."

The words tumbled out in a jumbled rush, but Corinne didn't appear to have any trouble following them. No, she didn't look at all confused. Just offended.

Mortally.

"What the f.u.c.k?!"

Saskia winced. Not at the harsh language, but at the volume of her new friend's exclamation. It brought the head of every single person in the small cafe snapping around to see the source of the commotion. Saskia tried to smile at the blatant stares, but there was nothing she could do to prevent the hot color climbing into her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Corinne said, this time at a more normal volume. She blew out a deep breath. "I just ... Wow. It never occurred to me that that was why you sounded so tense on the phone earlier. I figured you were worried about what the Council was going to decide, not that you didn't even know Preda had gone to talk to them. That's just-" She shook her head. "And here I thought my man could be thoughtless at times. Holy s.h.i.t."

Saskia shrugged and played with her coffee cup. "I'm sure he just had a lot on his mind after he got the phone call. After all, he's not used to having a mate. It was only our first night together."

Corinne's eyes narrowed, but she made no further comment. Instead, she folded her arms on the table in front of her and leaned forward intently. "Okay, I think we'd better start from the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened last night. Everything. From the top."

"Well, you were at the party, so you know that our engagement officially began last night."

"Sort of. I know last night was a big shindig, but did he propose to you before then? I mean, that's the way things usually work. A couple gets engaged, then they start planning the party, right?"

"Not for the Tiguri."

"Explain."

Saskia sighed. She hated trying to make outsiders understand about Tiguri mating traditions. Outsiders all seemed to think those traditions belonged back in the Middle Ages, but to Saskia they were just the way things were done.

"You know that the marriage between Nicolas and me was arranged, correct?"

Corinne nodded. "Yeah, I had heard. It's kind of a topic of conversation at the moment. In certain circles."

"For the Tiguri, marriages are always arranged," Saskia said firmly. "For one thing, tradition is very important to us. We pa.s.s customs on through families as a way of keeping our culture vibrant and undiluted by other customs. For another, there are very few of us left."

"There are? I mean, I know you're the first Tiguri I've ever met, but I thought that was just because you guys didn't live in the U.S. Don't you usually stay in Europe and Asia?"

"Those of us who are left, yes, they tend to live in their ancestral territories, which do happen to be in Eastern Europe and Asia. But even there, our population isn't what you would call thriving. Only a few families are left, and the ones with any power have dwindled so that I can count them on one hand."

"Wow," Corinne said, frowning. "That's rough. I'm sorry to hear that. But why has that happened? I mean, I don't see the Lupines in any danger of dying off, and I've met plenty of other types of shifters since I found out about you guys."

Saskia made a face. "No, the wolves seem to be in no danger at all, but then, their population has always exceeded ours. I can't point to any scientific cause for our population decline, but I can tell you that our birthrate is low. It's unusual for a Tiguri mated pair to produce more than one offspring, so our numbers continue to drop. That is part of why our mating traditions are the way they are."

"You mean, that has something to do with your engagement to Nicolas Preda?"

"In the way it will progress, yes."

Corinne's dark eyes flashed with interest. "Explain, please."

Saskia could only try. "The arrangement of marriages is important to keep as much variety as possible in our genetic material. Just like in the animal world, a low population of endangered species makes it necessary to consciously work to prevent inbreeding."

"Ew. Okay, makes sense, but ... ew."

"Exactly. None of us wishes to mate with our first cousin, believe me. Arranging marriages means that our pairings don't inadvertently compromise our gene pool, but the narrowness of that pool has also informed the structure of our matings."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Human relationships-or really, most non-Tiguri relationships-operate in a series of stages, correct? Couples meet, then date, then become engaged, then marry and hopefully live happily ever after. Am I right?"

"In theory."

"Well, Tiguri relationships have stages, too, but they're geared less toward allowing the mates to get to know each other and more toward ensuring a healthy future population."

Corinne downed a swig of coffee and grimaced. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

"You don't have to like it. I'm just letting you know how this works."

"True." Corinne nodded. "Go on."

"The arrangement of marriages means that those first two stages I mentioned in human relationships are unnecessary for us. Couples don't date. They usually meet at or shortly before the marriage contracts are signed, not before. They get to know each other during the engagement, which becomes official the same night the male presents his mate with an engagement ring, usually just before the reception to announce the union."

"Oh, so that's what last night was for you," Corinne said, her eyes widening. "Wow, then that means that you two barely know each other, right? How weird must that be."

Saskia shifted uncomfortably. "Nicolas and I are a little different," she admitted. "Our families decided early on that an alliance between us made sense, so I've known Nicolas since I was a little girl. I always knew we'd be mates one day."

"But no pressure, right?"

"Right," she agreed wryly. "The pressure starts now. Like I said, the relationship begins with the engagement, which happened last night, but it's not considered official until the couple, er, consummates things."

Corinne stared at her for a second before understanding drew her eyes impossibly wide. Saskia felt her cheeks go crimson.

"Whoa, you mean, even if you're engaged and wearing a ring and telling five hundred guests about your intention to get married and all that, you're still not official until you two have s.e.x?" The reporter's voice strained with incredulity, which wasn't that strange a reaction. Saskia had heard it before.

"Yes, that's correct. The betrothal isn't considered binding beforehand. We have to demonstrate a clear intention to procreate together; otherwise there would be no point in the relationship."

"No point? As in, you can't just be together because you want to be? Because you love each other and you want to spend your lives together?"

Saskia heard the indignation and pointed out the flaw in the human logic. "How would we have become so emotionally attached if we hadn't met before we agreed to marry each other?"

"Well, you- I- You- I mean..."

"Exactly. Remember what I just told you-the whole point of a Tiguri mating is to produce children. Which is also why we won't be able to marry unless I get pregnant. Until there's proof that we're fertile together, there's always the chance we'd have to dissolve the agreement and each take another mate. And until I give birth to a healthy baby, we still have that option. We become true mates when I conceive, but it's like a trial run. If I miscarry or produce a stillborn child, the trial period ends and we go our separate ways."

Corinne remained silent for several minutes, long enough for Saskia to drain her cup with a series of nervous sips.

"Okay, wow," the human woman finally managed, sinking back into her seat as if the effort to wrap her mind around Tiguri mating customs had drained her of energy. "I want to say that that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard, but I can't."

Saskia looked up in surprise. "You can't?"

"Well, I can," Corinne corrected herself, "but it would be stupid of me. I mean, it's horrifying to me, but I'm a total outsider. I'm human. I might be married to a man who's a bit more than that, but I'd be a hypocrite to try and judge another species based on what I've learned about them in two brief conversations and a total of about thirty-seven minutes in your company. In a totally Machiavellian kind of way, it's almost brilliant. It's ruthlessly logical. If what your people need most is more little people and, like all the other shifters I've met so far, you can't make more by biting humans the way the movies want us to believe"-she nodded at Saskia's snort of ridicule-"then what you've described makes a sick sort of sense."

Saskia took a moment of silence for herself. "Thank you," she said after she cleared her throat. "You're the first person I've ever explained to who was even willing to admit that much. Most others are so disgusted by the idea, they can't get away from me fast enough."

"Why the h.e.l.l is that? Did you design the system? The fact that you're part of it isn't your fault, unless Tiguri have some weird ability to choose their species and parents pre-conception that no one's ever told me about. That would be like someone trying to blame me for the Spanish Inquisition because I'm human and some sick member of my species thought up the idea to persecute heretics back in the Dark Ages. Not my fault, and I'm not about to take responsibility. Neither should you."

It felt almost as if a burden Saskia had been carrying had just been set aside. Impulsively she reached across the table and laid her hand over the back of Corinne's.