The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 11: Fit for a King

NATE'S POV

I kept waiting for boredom to set in.

It should have happened the moment I took Aurora's hand on the dance floor and spun her into the arms of another man. It was so obvious that she wanted me, even when she tried to hide it; I'd scented the pent up need on the pages of her ridiculous harem book the moment I caught it in the air.

But then she'd said: Don't knock it till you try it, and my interest was piqued. She didn't apologise for anything.

Even so, the boredom definitely should have set in when I left her behind in the dressing room, her pupils dilated and eyelids hooded with satisfaction. All my life, I'd only cared about one thing: the chase. The harder it was to catch my quarry, the more of a rush I felt at the end when I finally managed to sink in my claws. Fell hadn't even put up a fight.

And yet she was confident. Self-possessed. For somebody with so little to her name, the princess expressed no reservations about taking what she wanted when she wanted it. And for a brief window, she'd decided that she wanted me in that dressing room, coming onto me like a damn succubus ready to suck my soul out through my cock. It took all of my willpower to say no and hold my cards against my chest.

That was my process: give them a little, and make them come crawling back for more. I'd become a master of manipulation over the years, earning myself quite the reputation at court, to the point that fathers warned their daughters away from me. I'd learned how to make myself the oxygen those women needed to breathe.

And yet.

I was the one who left that dressing room frustrated and flustered. Feeling conquered rather than conquerer. It had nearly broken me to decline Aurora's advance and rush to the break-room out back, a barren kitchenette that was markedly less extravagant than the pomp out front. There was too much time to think as the tap ran from cold to hot, and I almost turned around and marched right back into the shop, intent on embracing whatever the fuck this thing was between us by marking her and consummating it.

You know what it is, whispered that haughty little voice in the back of my head. You've experienced it before.

I had. And I'd thrown myself into that chase with every fibre of my being, only to be cut so deeply that the scars still throbbed.

She could make it all go away, the voice promised. You could start fresh.

But history had a way of repeating itself. And I didn't know if I could survive another wound like that.

So I scrubbed my hands clean of her scent, dampened a clean handkerchief and changed my shirt on the way back, so that I didn't have to torment myself — or Fallon — with the evidence of our closeness. I still wasn't entirely sure I believed the rugged bodyguard when he said there was nothing between them, but I had little choice but to respect his wishes to let sleeping dogs lie.

Hell, I probably would have run from that shitty little bar on the outskirts of Twatt if I'd had a choice, but desperation had driven us halfway across the country for a long-lost princess and the power her exiled people could provide. We needed an army, and there was only one pack the Crown Alpha had yet to fully subdue in all of Scotland.

Carn Liath.

It was why the Pendragon's had taken up court in Dornoch, making the quiet little town the centre of high society in Scotland. To quell the rebellious uprisings that were constantly stirring, as the exiled lycans tried to take back their ancestral home.

Only when my heart settled it's frantic pace did I dare to return, an apology on my lips. I was fully expecting an embarrassed, upset, or furious spiel, no stranger to the complaints of jilted lovers.

Instead I found a woman fit for a king, whose soft, black eyes looked me over once and then drifted away with regal disinterest. There was a pile of clothes on the counter, the opposite of this season's trends and everything Addy had painstakingly picked out. She even had the audacity to sigh as she looked out the window, as if she was the one feeling bored.

There was no acknowledgement of the way I'd worked her body just a moment prior. No scathing retorts or pining glances or demands for an explanation. No recognition of the fact it was my name on her lips when I brought her to climax, even though I'd made her look into my eyes for every damn second of it.

It was as if I was but a humble servant who'd provided a service. Like I'd already outlived my usefulness and she was ready to move on.

My hackles rose. She had no idea who I was.

But isn't that the point? I thought abruptly. Didn't I want her to know me — the real me — before we made it back to Dornoch? That was what I'd told the others, anyway, when they asked why I was sanctioning so many detours. Especially when Addy could have transported us directly to court on day one and sent somebody back for the car.

Fuck, I swore in my head, as I signed the cheque for all our stuff. She was getting under my skin.

Perhaps she was cut out for court, after all.

Thoughts? Predictions?

How are you enjoying the story so far?

Love,
Lyra xxx