4. Thorne

FOUR

THORNE

W hat happened inside the alpha when he touched her was altogether mesmerizing, a sensation that had been a fable to him till that very moment.

The feel of her skin sent a surge of electricity down through his very bones. Time seemed to slow down as Breya's plump rosy lips gaped open in surprise.

It wasn't mere infatuation. It wasn't lust. It was something cosmic and enchanting that went beyond their separate experiences as supernatural beings. Thorne's lion roared deep within the wells of his soul, a robust thrum in his veins that made him feel both lightheaded and grounded.

There was nothing left to stop him from getting what he wanted. She was undoubtedly his mate, and he needed to have her. To devour every inch of her with a trembling, spiritual sense of pleasure.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers and felt no resistance. He pressed against her harder, and she groaned, her free hand moving to stroke his chest. Their lips did not part, but the passion was brewing like a volcano that had been lying dormant for decades.

She tasted of sea salt and fresh water springs.

His lion rumbled hungrily against her chest.

The king wanted all of her right then and there but managed to pull away for the sake of politeness. His heart hammered in his chest.

He had to do the cordial thing before his shifter nature took the helm.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Hmm?"

Breya's green eyes showcased their brilliance under the dim torchlight. Her expression was flat, her lips having thinned out post-kiss, but her hand remained settled on his chest. Thorne stifled the urge to brush his mouth along each digit.

The woman was flabbergasted, and she wasn't angry.

"For all of the confusion," Thorne continued. "I didn't want to tell anyone that you were my fated mate. It was divined to me by an acquaintance. But I wanted to be sure before saying anything."

Breya nodded along, still looking dumbstruck. She kept her gaze averted, finally removing her hand from his chest and taking a small step away. It wasn't aggressive, but it was enough to make Thorne feel a stab of disappointment.

"I understand, I do," she said, muttering, running her thumb along her bottom lip. "I really do."

An awkward silence hung between them like a heavy anchor ready to drop at any moment. Fearing trepidation, or even worse, regret, the king changed the subject, straightening himself and settling his tone back to that of professional courtesy.

"Would you like to join me for dinner?" he asked.

Breya appeared to come back to earth in that instant, looking herself over in a glittery golden gown. She raised an eyebrow at him, one that seemed both suspicious and sexy.

"Is that why you gave me this?" she said, motioning at herself with a sweeping motion. "I don't think I've ever worn something so…lavish."

Thorne chuckled. It was a deep and thorough laugh.

"I know it's a lot to take in. Consider the dress a gift. And as far as dinner goes, you must be ravenous from the trip, no? Only the best cuts of sirloin and hog are served at the king's table. I implore you to indulge."

He spoke with his usual noble king-like reverence but with a small glimmer of flirtation. He wanted to charm her. He was smiling slyly as he tilted his head, his heart still madly rattling like a prisoner intent on bursting out.

"You're right. It was a long journey. And I'm all dressed up anyway. Why not?"

"Indeed. Why not."

Thorne led her down the majestic hallway, down the spiral staircase, and into the dining hall. The ceilings were high and gothic, but the extravagant accents were intentionally homey. Windows that looked out over the desert plains lined the room horizontally. Candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling, made of glistening metal and glowing.

The meal was a grand feast just as Thorne had planned. The table was made of ebony wood. It was a gift from Thorne's great-great-grandfather, who received it as a gift from another lion alpha from faraway lands.

Breya appeared struck by the feast, the copious amounts of meats, fruits, exotic arrangements, and sauces crafted by the most exclusive artisans of the region overwhelming her human senses.

"Geesh," she breathed.

She stood marveling, steam rising from the vividly colored cuisine set before her. Servants stood on each side of the long table, awaiting their instructions while candlelight flickered.

He pulled a chair out for Breya.

"All of this… is for us?"

The king nodded, the liveliness in his heart still thrilling. She studied him, then turned back at the feast.

"I wanted to make sure you were fed," he said, still holding the back of the chair. "I also wanted us to have our privacy. I didn't know what you were fond of, so I tried to make something average combined with something perhaps a little peculiar."

Her nose finally stopped twitching, and she sat. The king sat next to her, leaving nearly sixteen chairs vacant down the long table display.

Thorne asked her what she liked to eat, and then he made his suggestions. She was delightfully experimental, expressing her astonishment quite animatedly. He felt like she was getting more comfortable, which made him feel more at ease.

"Tell me what it's like being a witch," Thorne asked during dessert. A soft red velvet cake baked by the most sought-after pastry maker in the kingdom was served with coffee and tea.

"What would you like to know?" she said, leaning back in the chair.

The king pondered. He didn't want to offend her with his prying, but if she was to be his mate, he wanted to know everything. He was already struggling with the thirst to know all that made her burn.

"Hmm," he said, pressing a finger to his mouth. "We do have witches that work in the palace, but I don't know much about them. I mainly rely on my own abilities as an alpha shifter. I hear that you are a healer in your community."

Breya nodded, raising the mug to her lips. Her eyes were like spotlights peering over the bone white of the cup. They reminded him of a cat's—cunning, but curious.

He couldn't see her smirking, but Thorne could hear it in her voice.

"I am, yes. It's rather straightforward. If someone breaks their arm, I heal them. If someone has a broken heart, I can do the same. I've always wanted to help people, so it feels natural that I would develop my powers and be able to heal like this."

Thorne was glad she was opening up to him, but his animalistic instincts still felt something wedged between them. She sipped at her coffee, closed her eyes, and murmured her appreciation.

"I don't think I've ever had coffee this delicious," she said.

"I can have something specially made for you in the morning," he said, the words pouring out faster than the thought.

Breya finished off the cup and licked her lips subtly.

"If you wanted to stay, that is," he corrected himself. "The brew will be made precisely to your liking."

She smiled at him. It was effortlessly gorgeous.

"Thank you, Thorne."

Their plates were taken and more coffee was offered, which they both refused. The darkness outside seemed to part briefly with the presence of the moon full and bright.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me? The moon is full and can look quite beautiful from the garden."

Thorne didn't realize he was holding his breath until after Breya accepted his invitation without any sliver of caution. Those inquisitive eyes shined again.

"I would love to," she said.

They left the dining room with the king leading the way down a stone tunnel that led to the servant quarters. It was quiet and led to the back of the palace property. The air was warm but not humid.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Thorne held out his arm to Breya, who slipped hers under his bicep easily. The king could barely look at her, he was already so taken, so smitten. It was unlike any emotion he'd experienced.

In her golden glittery dress, the witch was more exquisite than the dazzling moon.