8. Thorne

EIGHT

THORNE

T horne was ravenous from a long night of lovemaking. The king wasn't new to the concept of long sex sessions. He had quite a few women in his royal bed over the years and done things many gymnasts could only dream about. His shifter abilities made for quite the flamboyant escapades. But it was all incomparable to the fusion of souls that he experienced with Breya.

It was as if sex was being redefined as something that transcended the general salaciousness of the central act. Sure, naughty thoughts crossed his mind the morning after. And they likely would forever. But it was the merging of two spirits that truly felt like providence.

The king didn't want to deter Breya, though. So he kept a lot of his musings to himself. There was no doubt about her enjoyment, for she was not one that shied away from enthusiastic expression. That was another trait that made him wish to spend all his days entangled in the fever of her naked form.

Alas, he had a kingdom to rule. And despite the distraction of his mate, he did care for his people. It would split his heart in two if he ever had to pick between them. He tried to let go of that nightmarish thought, giving his undying attention to the woman adorned in a teal silk robe.

Breya sat across the table from him, a vision of coal-black ringlets framing her face like angry storm clouds. Her eyes were brilliant green, shining on her pretty face. Every now and then, her cheeks bloomed with tints of rose. Thorne realized it was whenever he posed a question about her known healing abilities.

The king found her coyness flattering and alluring.

"Have you always been like this?" he asked, tearing apart a croissant fresh from the oven.

"Like what?" she replied, attempting to conceal the red that pricked her cheeks.

"So modest. Every time we talk about your abilities, your head lowers, but your eyes shine. You can be honest with me. I have heard a few things from the other witches about you. You are quite famous."

The blush returned, fuller and a more vivid scarlet. They had just eaten a large breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon, pancakes, sliced mango and melon, toast, and of course, her favorite hazelnut beverage.

"I don't know if I'd say famous," she muttered, gazing down as her fingers began to trace the empty coffee mug. "The village where I'm from isn't very big. And there are only a handful of witches. I am the healer, so I suppose I am easy to know."

The king smiled on only one side of his face. Breya's eyes twinkled, and she pointed at him.

"What?"

"You do that. You do that a lot. That smile. That smirk ."

For a moment, Thorne was worried. He thought she looked irritated. He raised both hands in the air.

"I assure you I mean no offense."

Then Breya's own cock-eyed smirk spread over her face. Thorne glowered at her but only in jest.

"My, you certainly had me there."

Breya chuckled, covering her mouth as she rocked back and forth on the chair. It was the most angelic sound the king had ever heard.

"Jeez, you turned as white as a ghost!" she said, giggling through her fingers. "I didn't mean to bother you that much, I only wanted to play around..."

Breya's mood suddenly changed like the flick of a switch. "Oh, someone's coming," she murmured, a little alarmed.

Before Thorne had a second to respond, there was a knock on the door. They were eating in his private kitchen, and only a few of his most trusted and loyal housekeepers had access to the wing.

"Come in."

Leon was a sage lion shifter who had traded in his soldiering days for serving the king more personally. He was cordial and delicate, apt at reading the room with his quiet intensity. Especially when the king was entertaining a woman.

He stepped into the room with a regal stance, bowing his head momentarily before addressing his ruler.

"My King."

"Leon, what do you have for me?"

"I apologize for the intrusion, My King, but the hour for your daily meeting with Samson has passed. Should I inform him that your attention is elsewhere?"

Thorne grumbled but there were a few things that needed taking care of.

"I will do my best not to be long," he said, kissing the top of her head and taking a deep gulp of her fragrance. "Feel free to explore the palace as much as you want. Ask one of the housekeepers to show you around. You are free to look anywhere."

She nodded, her cheeks still deliciously rosy.

"Go. Be a king."

He pried himself from her and followed behind Leon with a long, gruff sigh.

"She is lovely," the servant remarked.

"She is beyond lovely. Possibly the loveliest thing I've ever seen."

They walked down the corridors, slants of bright golden light leading their way over the parquet hardwood. Though his lion crooned inside him to make Breya his with a mark of matehood, her mere presence had brought a hush over his angsty nature.

Excitement stirred beneath that hush. He felt like a child wanting to brag about their latest gift. He needed to share it with his consults first in the proper format, then with his people. Then, he would trumpet it to the heavens above.

Thorne walked into his office brashly, his long strides drumming against the silk Persian patterned rug. Waiting for him inside were his assistant, Samson, his two royal consults, June and Beau, and his bulking enforcer, Vale.

Samson was talkative and shrewd, but the king relied on his blunt nature to keep from falling too hard upon the side of logic or emotion. His consults June and Beau were middle-aged and experienced, having been members of the Wildwoods Lion Council since their early thirties. Vale was all bite, no bark, built like a mountain and just as majestic.

It wasn't that Thorne simply wanted their advice as lion shifters. He queried opinions from different perspectives in order to make a justifiable and reasonable decision. He had been ruling for some time, and none of them had ever led him astray.

But when it came to his fated mate, there wasn't anything that would sway him.

"Start planning a ball," Thorne said, pointing a long finger at Samson.

Samson snorted, winced, and then scowled all in a fraction of a few seconds.

"Wait, you are serious, My King? For when?"

"Tonight." Thorne turned to Vale, whose expression remained unperturbed. "Get the team together. We are going to need everyone on board for the celebratory event."

"And what exactly are you celebrating?" Samson said wryly.

"I have found my mate. Breya, my guest from yesterday, is going to be the future Queen of Bawold!"

The faces in the room were all distorted in bewilderment. Samson opened his mouth, but Beau cut him off. His eyebrows were raised with poised engrossment.

"My, my. How do you know this?"

He told them about the witch's divination and how accurately they pinpointed her from the human village. They nodded along languidly, cautiously moving through their questions as if one false move would cause an explosion.

Thorne noticed their hesitation, and he didn't like it.

"Are we sure that these witches can be trusted?" June asked, her tone too placating for the king.

"They can. They are on the Royal Council after all. And I have met the young woman and I know without a doubt that she is my mate ."

The room fell silent. Leon stood against the wall, void of thought.

"But she is also a witch, correct?" Samson posed.

"Indeed," the king said.

"That means she's not a lion," Beau jumped in. "We are going to allow a witch to become a queen? One who isn't a lion?"

That ruffled Thorne's feathers a bit. He didn't want to start an argument with some of his closest confidants, but it was vital that he as king and leader made sure no one spoke out of turn in his presence.

He fluttered his fingers against his desk, gritting his teeth as he spoke. All of the council members leaned back in their chairs, taken aback by his rousing proclamation.

"Breya doesn't need to be a lion. She is a witch, and she will be my queen. There have been many witches who were queens throughout Bawold's history. You all better educate yourselves on the matter. And get used to a witch being your queen, because I will not hear another second of griping. Understood?"

The words came out as a lecture, but the king didn't care. There would be no slanderous talk about his woman. Not ever again.

"The ball, then," Samson said, rising from his chair and buttoning up his jacket. "Tonight?"

Thorne nodded and sat in his leatherback chair. Their silence was obedience, and that pleased him greatly.

"See that it's marvelous and extraordinary. I don't want there to be any corners cut. This is for your queen . Remember that."

All scattered out of the room like cockroaches but Vale who lumbered and Leon waited for his next instructions.