Chapter 8- Sister talk

Cherryl propped her chin on her steepled fingers and scanned the garment that Sophie hung on a coat hanger and hooked over her wardrobe door.

Cherryl gave her verdict. "Nice, and I love the fifties vibe, but you could show a bit more cleavage."

Sophie raised a brow.

"You did ask," her sister said.

"No, actually, I didn't."

"Well, you should. Have you any idea how many people read my fashion blog? I am considered a fashion guru."

"Yeah, right… and our father isn't happy at all."

"Come on, sis. Mother loves it." Cherryl grumbled. "And you love it, that's all that matters."

"And what do you think Dad, our alpha, is going to consider about that?"

Sophie angled a nod in the direction of the micro miniskirt her sister was wearing in neon green.

"He won't see it," Cherryl said with a grin as she rolled over and pulled herself into a sitting position, her long legs tucked under her.

It was then that Sophie saw what her sister was wearing on top.

Cherryl gave another million-voltage smile and held her arms wide to proudly show off the T-shirt. Sophie had seen identical ones in the tourist shops in Savannah, where the iconic image was reproduced on everything from tea towels to mugs. It was the master alpha, the father of her fiance, who had fought for their freedom and gained independence for whatever those supernatural politicians called for.

"So, do you like it? I'm a fan!" Cherryl grinned. "I'm showing my hands-across-the-border solidarity. They say his eyes follow you around the room. Go go! Master Alpha! The king and the saviour!"

Sophie rolled her eyes.

"Do you like it, sis?"

"I do," Sophie said shortly. She had seen the original on the wall of the great hall on the pack boundary wall.

"Don't you think the future alpha master looks like the bad brother? I can't see how anyone could have thought he was a bastard, but hell, Beta Sage is hot; no arguments there, but for me, Alpha Landon is way way hotter." Cherryl added, pulling the fabric outward to look at the face of the famous Robsinson's beta, the man who had fought dirty to secure his father's trust or his harems. That's where all the gossip came from anyway. That, and his career as a successful, good-for-nothing playboy bastard.

It was their mother who had pointed out the similarity during a day trip her family had made the previous year to take lunch with the Robinsons.

She remembered how she gawked at Sage's portrait. Clearly, even, Landon, her mate, isn't near as hot as the playboy.

"His eyes really do follow you around the room," Sophie had said, staring at the original of the much-reproduced image. And so do his lovely lips. Those sinful lips tasted hers.

Damn! She was not meant to be thinking about the Playboy beta—no way! She should have been thinking about his mate, Alpha Landon, and no one else.

"Sage always has the same trick, doctor," Landon murmured behind her after their sham family dinner meeting.

"He was quite attractive. Him, I mean, you...'" she'd continued, pointing to the image and quickly adding, "Not your brother." Sophie was blushing like hell at the time, clearly because she knew Landon noticed her staring at Sage's photograph. Fortunately, the man in question wasn't present to make the living daylight for her.

Landon had laughed at her embarrassment. "You might change your mind when you two finally meet. I'd like to say Sage got the looks and I got the brains, but..."

Soohie pursed her lips before replying, "I think you're very smart, modest, and good-looking."

Whenever doubts had crept in, Sophie had reminded herself that Landon couldn't have been more unlike his hateful brother if he'd tried.

They were day and night, Sage definitely being night, even though his eyes had made her think of the brightest, most blindingly blue summer sky when he'd bent his head and fitted his cool, firm lips to hers. She felt the guilty heat rise through her body as she reminded herself that she could have stopped it from happening!

Out of her mental war... Sophie sighed and tried not to think of the memory.

Belatedly aware that Cherryl was staring at her, she shook her head. "Alpha Landon is way better," Cherryl conceded before changing the subject. "Anyway, what's with that sad look, Soph? You look like an advertisement for something healthy... or diet pills?"

Sophie smiled and said, "And you, sweetie, look like you were doorstepped by the national media." She held out her arms. "Hug?"

"Yes, please."

Sisterly hugs exchanged, they sat down on the window seat side by side.

"I'm quite jealous of the number of hits you got. Did you watch it?"

Sophie did not pretend not to understand; she had heard she had gone viral. "No, I was there. God, I hate paparazzi."

"Don't look so gloomy. I know many women who would pay to get chucked into the back seat by Sage Robinson, and you were wearing nice undies."

"Hell, I shifted in front of the man,"

"Really?"

"I was too scared, but, luckily, he had an extra coat or something," Sophie growled. "It was embarrassing."

Then Sophie halted, her eyes widened. 'You couldn't...?" she bit her lips. "Shit... y-you could see my p-panty?"

Cherryl chuckled at the shocked reaction. "No, just a lot of leg." Her expression sobered. "Seriously, though…?"

Sophie angled an enquiring look at her sister's face.

The grin re-emerged. "He is seriously gorgeous! How about a double wedding? I'm up for it if you are!"

"What, and share my day in the spotlight?" Sophie said, struggling to reply in kind because the image of her sister, dressed in white, standing beside a tall, lean, handsome figure made her feel a little queasy.

"Because we all know how much you love that." Cherryl's smile vanished. "Sophie, are you all right? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you know. Are you really going to do it? I mean, we all know Landon is your mate, but well, we are not living in the olden days now... I mean, you know what I mean, right?"

Sophie sighed before answering, "And then, do— what?"

"Well,"

"Our pack depends on this treaty, Cherryl. You know that... Father will hate me, forever."

"Go through with this crazy medieval marriage of convenience? You can't let yourself be used this way, Sophie. It's so wrong."

"I don't have a choice."

"Do you even love Alpha Landon?" Cherryl raised a brow.

"Well, I—maybe... I'm not sure, OK?" Sophie threw her hands in the air dismissively.

"There is always a choice, Soph."

Sophie shook her head and veiled her eyes with her lashes. It was true, but now that the time was here, she wished she believed it. "I want to marry Landon. He's a nice guy. This is my fate. The moon goddess chose this. I can't say no."

"Bollocks." Cherryl's expression grew serious as she took her sister's hands in hers and said gravely, "Don't you think you deserve better than nice? A husband, a mate, who thinks you are more important than anything?"

"How did you know this, Cherryl?"

Her sister breathed heavily and closed her eyes before saying, "I—well, Landon seems nice, but you don't really fancy him, and he—"

"That doesn't matter." Sophie grumbled hastily as her mouth twitched, and she gave Cherryl a half-smile.

After a shocked moment, Sophie brought her lashes down in a protective sweep as she swallowed the emotional lump in her throat. Cherryl had voiced the thoughts she didn't dare even allow herself to think.

"Since when did you become a paid-up member of the soppy romantic club?"

Cherryl's smile was back as she jumped to her feet. "I hide it well. So how about I wear this tonight?" She moved her hand down the tiny skirt she wore. "And flirt with the sexy Beta Sage?"

Sophie struggled to respond to her sister's teasing smile, managing some sickly approximation of an answering smile despite the tight feeling of rejection in her stomach.

"Cherryl, be careful. Sage Robinson, he isn't the sort of man you play with."

She thought of eyes so blue they took your breath away and felt a little shiver trace a sinuous path down her spine as the memory surfaced, both terrifying and seductive. She didn't want Cherryl to be exposed to the danger he represented.

Or maybe you don't want her to be kissed.

"He's dangerous."

Cherryl laughed. "He sounds better and better. Now how about a glass of wine to get us in the mood, or to at least prepare me for the undoubted cold shower that awaits me when I go to my room? Perhaps when you've sold your body for the good of the pack, we can get the plumbing fixed?" She grinned and produced a bottle from the capacious handbag she had dumped by the door.