50. Arran

I'd have found her anywhere.

It was a realization I did not want to make sense of as I bounded through the dense woods that separated Eilean Gayl from the Split Sea. I found their camp well before nightfall. But instead of going directly there, shifting and walking into camp, I found myself circling. Around and around, searching for any whiff of a threat. I ripped apart one of the mighty solabears as it slept in its cave for the winter. They never woke before the spring. It was no threat at all. But I could not stop myself.

Only when my beast was satisfied that no threat, beast or fae, lingered within striking distance, did I approach. I expected to find them on guard, blades drawn. They did not disappoint me.

Except Veyka.

She stood before the rest of them, arms crossed over her chest, weapons sheathed and annoyance etched in her beautiful face.

Annoyance.

No one else had ever dared.

She did not wait for me to shift before starting in. Her attack came not from those luscious lips, but directly into my mind.

I left you at Eilean Gayl for a reason.

The snarl that ripped from my maw was involuntary—and conflicted. Anger, that she could speak so easily into my mind. And was that… relief? It felt like a piece of me slotted into place. She spoke with such ease, confidence that she belonged this close to me, in my innermost sanctum.

Whether she could read the nuances of that snarl, I did not know.

I am not afraid of you or your beast.

Your mistake. I had not meant to speak back to her. But it came as easily as breathing.

Veyka's blue eyes glinted. Glowed. Her back was to the fire. That glow was entirely for me. I have made plenty of mistakes in my life. But that is not one of them.

She did not give me enough time to pick apart the implications of that before adding, Why are you here?

I am the High King of Annwyn.

She took a step forward, putting space between us and the rest of the group. They all remained frozen behind her. Good for you. That does not answer my question.

We did not agree on how the amorite would be used.

The glow in her eyes transformed into something sharper. It should not have been possible for simple blue eyes to show such a range of emotions. Swirling storm cloud, crystalline pool, icy blade.

Now they were daggers. You did not trust me to do what is best for Annwyn.

I do not know you well enough to trust you.

Veyka's arms dropped to her sides. Crossed over her body, she'd been protected. But now she was open, vulnerable. Even with the thick fur cloak over her shoulders, the skin along her throat pebbled. That was the only skin I could see. If she wore that tantalizing golden brassiere beneath the thick green knit tunic—my tunic. She was wearing my tunic.

Something surged through me, primal and hot. Another growl ripped from my throat, but different. Just as feral, equally dangerous, and all for her.

And yet, your beast is growling for me, Veyka purred through the bond.

There was no mistaking the glow in her eyes now as she stepped closer still. Close enough to touch, the low breath she exhaled lifting the scruff of white fur around my beast's head.

Are you hard for me, Arran? If I reached for you, what would I find amid all of that lovely, thick white fur? What if you shifted? Would that magnificent cock of yours be straining against your leathers, eager to bury itself in my cunt?

She was taunting me. It was a tactic. It had to be. She wanted to distract me, to gain the advantage in the new order that my arrival had created. Fuck if I didn't want to give in to her. Even covered up, with only the alabaster skin of her throat and face visible, she was fucking perfect. It would take more clothing that she had to hide those luscious curves. I could imagine what it would feel like to sink inside of her, to skate my canines along her throat while I inhaled my scent mingling with hers on the tunic.

The tunic she'd worn without knowing I was coming. She was taunting me now, that was certain, angling to get control. But that tunic… she had not worn it for me, but for herself. That did something to my heart that was worse than what her taunts did to my body.

What is the point of this?The strain in my voice was impossible to miss, even in the privacy of our own shared bond.

Veyka licked her lips. I can feel your need through the bond. You want me.

I wanted to suck her tongue into my mouth. Fuck. I had to get control of myself. Wanting you is not the same as trusting you.

I felt her bravado flicker. The next thought was softer. We've built a foundation on less.

What does that mean?

You used to hate me. And now?

The need to shift was becoming stronger with every beat of heat and meaning between us. Once I was in my fae form, I did not know what I would do. But I hardly trusted myself. And even though my wolf wanted to, and the bond in my chest practically demanded it, I could not quite bring myself to trust her.

That's what I thought.

I could feel her sadness. Not just sadness, but pain. Pain that I recognized. I could not remember. But I knew what torture felt like.

And maybe I was just as much a monster as the world thought, every inch the Brutal Prince. Because instead of offering the female who was my mate, wife, and queen comfort, I let out a thought that should have stayed buried. I did not invite you to share my mind.

Veyka stumbled backward a step. I might as well have struck her. For just a moment, I glimpsed the devastation on her face. But that was all she allowed me.

For all that I valued my control, it was Veyka who showed all the restraint as she shut off my access to her feelings, to her soul. Your beast did.

Don't worry, Arran. I won't bother you again.

She completed the exodus by turning and stalking away into the darkness, depriving me even of the sight of her. Her golden knight shot me a look that promised painful death before following her queen. When there was no sight of Veyka left, not even an outline in the dark, not even a hint of primrose and plum that only my beast could detect, only then did I shift.

The camp slowly resumed motion around me, but I stayed still, fixed at its edge.

I had what I wanted. Then why in the Ancestors-damned hell did I feel so bereft?