Jessamine
“I’ll talk to father again,” I say, sprinting alongside Darrock. “I can fend for myself, you know. You worry for nothing.”
“I trust you, but not Kier. He has proven often times that not that he is unable to keep his hands to himself. Plus, it’s dangerous, sending you out alone outside the borders. It was different when I brought you in,” Darrock pants, swiping at the sweat on his neck. “Now that everyone knows you’re heir, our enemies might be looking to ambush you.”
“What enemies?” I ask, leaping over a fallen tree as we race each other back to the castle. “Who would dare try to take me and risk a war with my father? No one’s that stupid. Dawn is bigger that Neredia and Hamon’s forces put together. Whichever path we choose automatically becomes the winning party. Atticus wouldn’t risk enraging Father.” Then I think of Nymeria and the baby in her belly. Could it really have been Atticus? What in the world is his end game, causing chaos there and seducing Nymeria? It’s why I find it hard to believe her. It just doesn’t make sense.
Darrock gives me a sidelong glance, his eyes momentarily snagging on my sweaty chest. “He could take you to sway the battle in his favor. I hear he’s an expert at brainwashing people. I’m just worried for you, Violet.”
The white towers of the castle can be seen now, as well as the guards traipsing about the gatehouse, patrolling. “I think you’re just bothered that I’m going to be spending an entire week with Kier. Alone. You’re jealous, Darrock. There’s nothing wrong with outrightly saying it. You know how much I love, love straightforward men.”
He almost slams into the tree, avoiding it by a last-minute swerve that has him falling into a pool of muddy water. I hold the bark of the tree, guffawing until tears fill my eyes. He stands, glaring at me with vicious red eyes. He wipes the mud off his hands and swipes at his face. “I’m not jealous of that grumpy twerp. I’m better looking and I make you laugh.”
“Right,” I say, extending a hand to pull him out of the puddle. “I guess humor compensates for lacking in other areas.”
“Lacking? Stop by my room tonight. I’ll give you a demonstration, sweetheart,” he says, grasping my fingers. He stumbles out, almost into me. I shuffle three steps back, grimacing as I wipe my hands on the handkerchief peeking out of my pocket. “Maybe work on your stamina first.”
He follows behind me, muttering the silliest of things, telling me all about his finger and tongue work and how I’m the luckiest woman alive to have him as my husband-to-be. Men are disgusting. Left to me, I’d become a priestess at this point. How do I even get entangled with these sorts of people?
Darrock and I part on the staircases, as he takes the turn to his wing, and I start towards mine, only to get blocked off from the path to my room by guests and maids, peeking into my personal training room through a space in the door frame, cooing, sighing, and gasping.
Someone’s elbow rams into my side, and I whip my head left. A maid. She’s pivoting into the crowd, joining them in their wistful stares that has me beyond irked. This is my wing. No one comes here. No one wants to run into me or associate with me unless it’s necessary. Unless I call for them. Only father and Darrock have access to these floors asides me.
“Bless the Goddess, I wouldn’t mind being assigned to clean up after him every day. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” a voice says from the front.
“I could braid that hair all day. Such a beautiful red,” another sighs.
“Pity he’s mated. I hear he and the princess had relations. I can’t imagine how she left a man who looked like that. Must be all that bitterness and—”
A rumbling growl slips past my lips and the wolf inside me coils. They turn, very slowly, and the smell of their fear thickens in the back of my throat. I note the face of the maid who had spoken. Big brown eyes, dark hair, petite nose, plum lips. She reminds me of Lovette in a way. All that innocence that took an envelope to steal. That terrible mouth that accused. That black heart that envied. “What is your name?”
Her lips quiver and tears spring to her eyes. “C-c-cam…Camilla.”
I nod, walking past her. “I’ll see you in my receiving room in five minutes.”
They part the way, scrambling away from me too fast, unwilling to share in their friend’s impending punishment. I would have stayed, had it been me. But then, I have no friends to test that theory with. To test if I’d still stay loyal. I wonder how much I’ve changed. I wonder if it’s irrevocable. I don’t miss being…her. I don’t miss being stupid.
I cross the path to the door, something ashy curling under my breath like smoke. I told that fucker to stay the hell away from me. I’m going to send him home and--
My feet freeze to the floors when I look into the training hall. My eyes land on my father first. He is shirtless, sweating and laughing. My father is laughing. Father is…he’s laughing. He’s only ever smiled or chuckled with me. He’s laughing and…My gaze shifts to his sparring partner and something in my chest cracks.
I’ve seen him shirtless. I’ve seen several men shirtless in the past month. This is nothing new. Still, I can’t…I can’t look away from Kier. He’s beautiful. Hypnotizing. Every edge of Kier’s body is honed to perfection, sharp lines and corded muscles quivering with barely leashed power.
His hair sticks to his slick, sweaty skin, and my toes curl just from watching those rivulets run down his bulky arms. Heat races through my face and stings my cheeks. I’m shamelessly wondering how his skin would feel again under my fingertips. I can barely remember what occurred the last time he held me with those hands, how my body reacted to having his attention. My mouth waters at the muscular expanse of his back as he grapples with my father, rather playfully, and I know none of these feelings belong to me.
I refuse to acknowledge them. But, fuck me, has he always been this attractive? And those pants? Where did he find them? I never want him to wear that in public again. Ever. I will burn them.
“Ah, Jessamine.”
Father’s sudden call has me swallowing spit and I start coughing, squinting as water floods my eyes.
“Are you alright?” I hear him say. He’s much closer now, patting my shoulder.
I clear my throat, straightening, and I wipe the drool—I drooled? Goddess forbids such a thing—from the side of my mouth. “Yes, I am. What…are you doing in here?”
Father inclines his head towards Kier, a childlike light dancing in his eyes. “Kier invited me, and your wing has the bigger and most comfortable hall. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he says, like he doesn’t own the entire place.
“No,” I reply through gritted teeth, noticing Az for the first time, panting and equally shirtless in the phase between wolf and man. My gaze drifts to Kier and the temperature drops as displeasure tightens my very being. Why does he look good? Perhaps a shaved head would do as well.
Father follows my line of sight and wipes his hair with a towel, gaining my attention again. I’d love to describe how my father looks, with every salivating detail, but I’m not a pervert. I almost wonder if the maids and guest were staring at him too.
“I have yet to see why you dislike him so much,” Father murmurs, drying his neck. “He is such a nice man.” Of course, he’d say that. The idiot knew he wouldn’t get through to me, so he went to the only person I’d listen to without hesitation. All I see is Kier impaled on my sword. I will bury him by the Goddess’s temple and light candles every night, dancing around his grave in celebration.
Speak of the devil and he appears. Father is suddenly out of the way and Kier is extending a wrapped cloth that smells like cake to me. He doesn’t quite meet my gaze as he says, “I’m terrible at cooking, but Az says it doesn’t taste horrible.”
I stare from his face to the offering. He’s giving me food? No. Scratch that. He cooked for me? Even a child knows what it means when a male or female wolf prepares food for another. It’s a weird ass declaration of love. The oldest, most outdated trick in the book. And everyone knows what comes after, if the token is accepted.
The world has gone quiet, waiting for me to decide. I stare at him, noticing the tip of his ears reddening by the second. It is not a very hard decision to make. I take the bundle, feeling the fluffy mixture within, then I let it fall to the ground and cover it with sole of my boot, trampling on it slowly, moving my feet back and forth until it is meshed to the ground. “You’re insane.”