Kier
Her cheeks are a bright shade of red, and my hands cling to her side to keep her from falling. Somehow, putting me to sleep had us both emptying out the entire bottle of wine.
There's such light and joy in her eyes that for the first time since we met, I notice how young she is. A far cry for the very old, cunning soul I've gotten used to.
She looks...mortal. More vulnerable. Almost human. I catch myself staring abashedly as she rattles off details about nothing and everything, giggling at her own jokes.
Jessamine falters, tripping on her gown, and as I catch her, she laughs, slapping her fingers over her mouth. "Oops." Her eyelids close and her lips pucker. "I can't see anything, Kier. It's dark. Everywhere," she cries, feeling out in front of her.
My lips curve up. "Your eyes are closed, Jessamine."
"I can't open them. Might I have gone blind?" Her words slur, only made worse with the whimper that leaves her lips. "Kier, I'm blind. I can't see!"
"Would you like to see the look on my face when I tell you how beautiful you are, even with your eyes closed?"
Her eyes snap open. "You're messing with me. Mother says men only give compliments when they want something."
I lift a brow, halting before my bedroom door. "And what else did your mother tell you?"
An amused, seductive smile curves her mouth, and her eyes turn feline. "That I'll get knocked up if you take me into your bedroom." Jessamine shakes off my grip, only to grab my collar and yank me down with a grip too strong for someone so petite. "How many children would you like? Five? Six? I hear there are certain positions that can get you all six at once."
Moon-fucking-Goddess. My cock tightens in my pants, and I swallow, gaze flicking behind my bedroom door and her lips that are awfully too close.
"You're drunk," I breathe against her lips. "You'll wake up in the morning and hate me."
She drops a soft kiss to the curve of my mouth, and my body shivers with hunger. "I could never hate you, Kier."
"And Lloyd? You don't want him anymore?"
Jessamine giggles, running her hands up my torso. "Jealous, are we?" She runs her foot up my leg, and my muscles tense as my imagination runs wild. "My relationship with Lloyd depends on you, Alpha. He's a good man, very fit," she mutters, fingers sliding up my neck. "But you and I know I've only ever wanted one man. Howbeit that that one man doesn't even want me."
"I do--" I catch myself, swallowing the rest of my words.
She stands on her toes, wobbling a little due to the alcohol, but she rights herself, pressing her chest against mine and cupping the back of my neck. Her eyes are wide and dark, and were it not for her breath of alcohol and the slur in her words, I'd say she was very sober. "You what, Kier? What do you feel for this little witch?"
I look in her eyes, and I think of a thousand lies I could tell her, just to have her tonight. But the truth suddenly clangs through me, leaving me cold and desolate.
An affair with a woman like Jessamine would never stay as such. She's like a drug that leaves you addicted on the first taste. One kiss and I've gone mad. Sex, and I'll give her my crown.
It's easy to lie to a woman, tell her you love her while looking her in the eye. She'll believe you because she wants to believe your words. Whether or not your eyes tell a different story. She'll believe it because it is what she wants to hear.
The words form on the tip of my tongue and they die there. Her eyes, they see right into me, and I bet if I told Jessamine I loved her, she'd laugh at me and call me a liar, pushing me even farther away from her.
When I don't respond, she pulls away, and her eyes have something I've never seen before. Frustration. "Why can't it be me? Why won't you love me?" Tears spring to her eyes and the tip of her nose turns red.
"I-I can't."
A primal, feral growl ripples from her lips and silver flashes in her eyes, splitting her pupils in half, and as she bares her teeth at me, I see sharp canines.
I blink and it's gone, like I imagined it, but I know I have not, because I smell it. Her wolf.
Lunging for her, I cup her neck, pulling her close and I sniff her in, deeply. It was fleeting, too short, but it was familiar. Like a scent I've known all my life. Zephyr stirs and I seek it out again, growling in anger when I don't find it on her.
She pushes me off her, but I can't let go. I know I didn't imagine it. The sweet scent. The warmth, and gentle breeze that came with. Soft, like a mate's caress. I couldn't have imagined something like that.
My nose is in her hair, her face, her neck, her chest, her clothes. But it doesn't smell like the sea breeze. It's all licorice, and I howl in frustration, shoving her back into the door.
Anger darkens her eyes and she adjusts her gown and her hair. "Good to know you're in the mood to be a jerk again."
Ignoring her, I inch a step forward. "How do you know you're an Omega?"
"Mother said so, and I'd think it was pretty obvious," she snaps.
I tuck the information away for later. Madeline Everhart might have lied, but the why of it evades me. "Ever been to the Howling under the full moon?"
She shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably, her skin flushing. "I have no reason to go there. Omegas without wolves can't attend the Howling, and you know that." Slipping away from between me and my door, she runs her hands through her hair, exhaling shakily. "This isn't how I intended for the night to end, but I'm exhausted."
"You said you would put me to sleep," I blurt, not wanting her to leave yet.
"That's a terrible apology for touching me like I'm your property."
My jaw clenches. "Isn't that what you want to be? Mine? You make demands and get upset when I fulfil them. You want me today and ignore me tomorrow, and when I start to get used to it, you return to haunt me. I can't figure you out, Jessamine. What the fuck do you want?"
"The one thing you can't give, apparently!" she yells, and turns away sharply, slapping my face with her long hair.
"Jessamine, we're not done talking," I growl.
"Good night!" she growls right back and stomps down the hallway. Only to trip on her dress on the third step, hitting the ground with a thud.
My feet move, but she pins me with an angry glare. "Don't even think about it."
Angry, I reach for the doorknob and yank a little too hard, and it breaks. I throw the useless metal into the wall, kick the door open and shut it loudly behind me.
**********
Nymeria
There's a fire.
I wheeze, grabbing my night robe from its stand and I run, draping it around me. The servants are screaming.
"The stables!"
"The larder!"
"Water!"
I run into Alpha Darrock in the hallway, and his maroon gaze flicks over me, darkening momentarily with lust. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "What's going on?"
"An attack from the rogues, perhaps," he murmurs, eyes on my breasts. "You should rest. It is being taken care of, princess."
I frown. "The castle hasn't been invaded in forever. How did they get over the wall? Have they being caught?" I ask, inching a step forward, but Darrock blocks my path.
"Do not concern yourself with these things. It is unbecoming of you. No one likes a nosy woman. Join your mother in the Grand Hall, where the rest of the women are. We'll handle it. Your father and I."
I stare at him, lips parted in surprise. "Nosy? Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me where I should be in my castle?"
"Your father has no sons, and you're much too young and unruly to be queen--"
"Not too young for you to fuck, no?"
Darrock lashes out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slants his lips over mine forcefully. I push against him as his teeth gnashes against mine, his tongue forcefully pushing past my lips. He sucks hard on my tongue and I moan into his mouth, gripping his tunic.
He leaves me when I am light headed from restricted airflow, but his fist doesn't leave my hair. They tighten instead, forcing my to meet his eye. "One month, Nymeria, and we'll be wedded. I suggest you learn how to speak to me properly. You will only be Queen for as long as I am your chosen mate. Your chosen Alpha King."
There's a hard lump in my throat and tears spring to my eyes. I thought lying about my half sister would get my father to lay off me a little. Instead, he'd gone ahead and fixed the date for the wedding the very next day, as if his daughter's supposed death cemented his need to send me off.
"I'll die before I marry someone like you."
His smile is everything evil. "That can be fixed, only after we've consummated our marriage, of course."
"The king caught the rogue," a servant says to another, running past with a pail of water.
I withdraw from Darrock's hold and he lets me go. I toss him the evil eye before I race down the hall, following behind the servants.
I see mother's slight form by the entrance of the stables, and I halt beside her. Her lips are drawn and her brows furrowed as she looks ahead, where father stands, fingers wrapped around a man's neck.
"You should try calming him," I whisper to her, clutching my robe around me tightly as goosebumps erode my skin.
She shakes her head, brown curls floating around her face. "You know how your father gets when he's mad." She sighs. "They had to know they would get caught. Violet was in there."
Was. I stare at the burning stable and the horses outside. She isn't amongst them. Coral stands by them, his expression wan and filled with grief. She must have died in the fire. Violet. My father's favourite beast of a horse. One might say he cared more for that horse than he does his wife and daughter.
"Why set the stables and food on fire?" I ask, bewildered.
"A statement, perhaps," Darrock says behind me, and my back turns rigid.
Just then, I hear father ask the rogue very softly, "Who was it?"
The stupid rogue laughs in the face of obvious death, even as he dangles from my father's hold. "The King wishes to make a declaration."
Father cocks his head. "Atticus?"
He snorts and spits in my father's face. "No. Alpha King Kier."
My body freezes as hazel eyes I've dreamt of in the past couple of nights flash in my head. I watch in horror as father throws the rogue in fire, and tells Coral, "Stoke it up."
Mother's fingers slip into mine and squeeze tightly as he walks past us, eyes mercilessly cold. The rogue cries, begs and screams as he burns and burns. I flinch at the sound as I watch father's tall back.
They should have known better. Father doesn't forgive. Or forget. He'll fight back. Harder.
What was the pretty king thinking, declaring war against my father? They'll all die.