Kier
Jessamine approaches, and I can’t help but suppress a chuckle at the sight. Covered in a tattered tunic that seems more suited for peasants, pants that look one step away from becoming rags, and worn boots that have more holes in them than all my clothes put together, she looks absolutely ridiculous.
A brown leather belt hugs her waist, a dagger hanging off it in plain sight. Gloves cover her hands, weathered and stained with Goddess knows what, and a scarf is clumsily wrapped around her hair, failing to conceal a few strands of that luscious hair that frames her face.
Yes, at first glance, she resembles a little man. But her violet eyes, there’s no hiding that spark of mischief forever in them. Or those lips that could never be found on a man’s face. Or her pert little nose. Or those dimples that grace her cheeks when she pouts, looking at me like I’m the one who looks ridiculous.
“Kier, do you wish to get mugged?” she asks, closing the distance between us in swift, confident strides.
I like the way she says my name. Like a caress, a tender stroke filled with promise and an affirmation that I indeed belong only to her. A command of ownership. No doubts, no pleas, no requests. I’ve never met a woman who enters a place and owns every inch of it like Jessamime does, and I suspect I never will.
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking down at my clothes.
She stands on her toes and takes a lock of my hair, rolling it around her index finger. “You’re rather famous for your beautiful hair. We can’t enter a den without drawing too much attention. Good thing I have another scarf,” she mutters, oblivious to how close her lips are to mine, and how much of her scent is clouding my senses. She pulls a wretched piece of cloth from around her neck, and I back away, almost walking into a horse.
“I’m not putting that thing—where did you get that from?”
“Servants’ washroom.” She takes my hand and I let her yank me forward. She puts the awful-stinking thing on my head and wraps it smugly around. Then she proceeds to swipe her thumb across the tip of her tongue, and rubs my eyebrows with that same thumb.
“Too fancy,” she adds, tugging down on the lapel of my jacket, Abd I let her take it off, leaving on my maroon tunic. Heat creeps up my neck every time touches me, and I’m rather grateful she doesn’t notice that the Alpha King is blushing like some hussy.
She unsheathes ger dagger and makes cuts on my tunic, along my arms, making me look as wretched as she does. She yanks off the rings in my fingers, shoves them in my pocket turns me around in a circle, and I draw a line when she reaches for my belt buckle. “Now you’re going to strip me naked too?”
Jessamine’s lips quirk up in a seductive smile. “Soon. Not now, sadly. I need your pants loose and dragging off the floor.”
“I believe I can help myself with that,” I snap, ire and embarrassment filling me. If she looks down, she’ll see that I’m hard as a rock.
She raises her hands in surrender and turns her back to me, giving me as little bit of privacy and it only makes me feel worse. Almost shy. I have no idea what’s happening to me. “Take your time. I’m sure you need a LOT of cooling and tugging.”
I groan inwardly, covering my member and my attempts to think of anything to get it down fails woefully. It only hardens, and a sweat breaks on my forehead, and a sudden thirst fills me.
But Jessamine suddenly says, “Do you remember what your grandfather looks like?”
I go flaccid, instantly, and Jessamine snickers like she knows what happened. She probably does. The woman knows everything. Ashamed, I tug on my belt, loosening it, and I tug down on the hem of my tunic, covering my pants. “Is this alright?”
She turns, giving me a once over, and she smiles. “You could pass for a rogue—the sexy kind.”
I frown, walking to the horse. “I’d rather you not compare me to a rogue.”
Tucking my foot into the saddle, I hoist myself up, sitting on Cerx, who moves under me, neighing and snorting at Jessamine’s unfamiliar presence. I brush my fingers against her sides, clicking my tongue in a way that I know calms her. When I raise my head again, I see Jessamine staring at the horse, her expression pale.
I hole out a hand to her. “Come. She won’t throw you off, I promise.”
Reluctantly, she needs, outing her cool fingers in mine, and I pull her up, setting her down in front of me, so that her back is flush against my chest, and her rump is touching the insides of my thighs. I shut my eyes tightly and think of grandfather’s face to keep from getting hard again.
I click my tongue and pull at the reins. Cerx lurches, galloping at mild speed, and Jessamine leans against my chest, her fingers gripping my thighs hard. It would seems I’ve found something the little lady doesn’t like very much. Riding.
******
“We have to walk the rest of the way. Leave the horse here. It’ll get stolen if we bring it into the village!”
“No one steals from a king.”
Jessamine growls. “Bring it then. When your precious beast gets stolen I won’t wipe your tears because I warned you.”
“Kings don’t cry.”
“You do,” she says dryly and starts walking down the cleared path, mumbling to herself how insufferable I am.
Reluctantly, I tie the horse's reins to the tree loosely, speaking into her ears as I stroke her sides. She blows, digging her hoofs into the ground. A nicker escapes her and I chuckle softly, leaving her behind even if I don't want to.
I join Jessamine as she walks down a path I've never been to before. The canopies grow thicker, shrouding the forest in temporary darkness for a moment. I feel Jessamine grab my sleeve, pulling me further into the dark with her.
Even with my keen sight, I can't see a thing.
"Why--"
"Shh," she exclaims, pinching me. Unsure how to react, I stay quiet, following and trusting her not to lead me to my death.
Soon, the atmosphere shifts, and I find that we are on a chaotic street, between decrepit houses. Despite the afternoon sun’s burning intensity, shadows cling to every corner and the looming buildings seem even more menacing. “Where are we, Jessamine?” I ask, feeling out of place.
She huddles close to me, eyes drifting left and right. “Oakshire. I believe Katherine’s father lords over this territory.”
I tuck the information away for later. The air is thick with the pungent smell of blood, decayed meat, sweat, and vomit. It turns my stomach, and I hold a breath. I steal a glance at Jessamine and her face is expressionless, her eyes lacking surprise or disgust. A woman dressed in so little, her breasts practically spills out of her bodice cooes at Jessamine, mistaking her for a man.
Jessamine smirks mischievously, winking at the woman as she tucks a single gold coin between the woman’s breasts. The woman’s gaze brightens with delight and she takes Jessamine’s gloved hands, pressing kisses on both of her wrists.
My companion, Lady Everhart, grins and winks at me, and I shudder, bordering between irritated and amused.
We thread further into the throng, and it’s a sight for sore eyes. The street seems to have a life of its own, pulsating with dangerous energy that only thrives in the shadows. Beggars extend their tins as we pass, haunted eyes pleading along with chapped lips, and I watch Jessamine drop coins in each tin discreetly. I might have missed it if I wasn’t watching her intently. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize that there’s more to her than the role of the seducing, conniving witch she plays so perfectly.
She is…kind.
Another reason she’d make a wonderful Luna. But the council will not have it. The last meeting, they had voted her out of the castle, banned from all packs. It had taken more than I’d like to admit to overrule their opinion, and they have stopped at nothing to show their displeasure in my decision.
Someone collides into me and I jolt forward, watching the heavily hooded figure yell at me, “Watch the road, fool!”
I start to growl, but Jessamine yanks me into a different street, breaking into a sprint. “We’re almost here!” she squeals excitedly.
We weave through the crowd of merchants who sell goods and plants I have long banned off the streets of my kingdom and we dodge a swelling, bustling crowd forming around a street fight. Cusses and yells fill the air, deafening me temporarily. Jessamine stops running in front of tall, distinct bricked building, armed with two men nearly as tall as I. She holds up more coins, grinning. “Who’s fighting today, mate?”
Hearing ‘mate’ casually leave her lips does something to my insides and I withdraw my fingers from her grasp, breathing hard.
The guard on the left rattles off a list of names and she pays off, betting on someone called the ‘Black Reaper’.
“I thought you didn’t have any money,” I tell her as we make our way into the den.
Jessamine shrugs, a little figure in a room filled with tall, hard-looking mercenaries. “I don’t. It’s yours.”
I instinctively reach for my pouch in my pocket, but my hands come away empty. Ah, fuck. Kind? She’s been giving away my money to every beggar and woman on the street without my knowledge, and now she’s bet all that’s left of it in a brawl.
“Jessamine—”
“Don’t worry, Kier,” Jessamine says, patting my shoulder. “We’ll win it back. Stop being a big baby.”