CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

B rayden pushed through the double swinging doors into the security briefing that Craig was heading up.

Mutters of my lord greeted him.

As his senior team, he’d told them it wasn’t necessary when he was in his role as captain, but many of them had known him for centuries, so it had become a habit as they’d worked their way up the ranks.

“Captain,” Craig nodded in greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said unnecessarily. One thing he’d learned from his father was that respect was earned. He may be the royal prince and lead the warriors, but he believed in behaving in the manner you wished others to behave.

In this case, he was fifteen minutes late—fifteen minutes he’d lain staring at Willow while she slept looking like an absolute angel. He had known he was running late, but had found himself in an obsessive thought pattern. Was he using Willow as an excuse not to betray his brother with Kate, or was the thought of having sex with anyone but this human even more unthinkable than the queen’s request?

“I’ve just distributed the relocation strategy file you approved earlier tonight.”

He nodded and sat down, watching his team review it on their digital devices, fingers scrolling and heads nodding to no one in particular. For the next hour, Craig walked them through the plan, assessing challenges, and prepped the senior lieutenants so they could brief their own teams.

“Prince—ah, captain, you haven’t put your departure date in here,” Marcus said, lifting the device.

“No.” He paused, took a deep breath, and stood. “I’ll make the decision closer to the date.”

Craig looked at the male quickly, then back at Brayden, keeping his face blank.

“We can work around that last minute,” Lance, one of the other four senior lieutenants in the room, said.

“Okay. Go brief your teams and let’s get this show on the road. Tom, can you update the operations team?” Craig asked.

The tall, dark-skinned male nodded, making a note on his device. His mate, Lucinda, oversaw the housekeeping and kitchen team, so it naturally, and often, landed on him.

Brayden looked around at the males. They’d all worked together for so long, this was like clockwork. Yet things felt different. Very few people knew about the king’s illness, but these males did. They hadn’t asked anything, as no well-trained soldier would. And they were highly trained and deadly machines, each with their own strengths and skills.

It wasn’t his decision to impart more knowledge about the king’s situation, and it served everyone to know as little as possible. While he was prince and captain, the fact remained that Vincent was king. For now.

However, as captain, he was empowered to share information to ensure the good mental health of his team. He knew these men had no problem with him stepping into the role of king one day—they all loved and respected him—but they also loved their king.

“One last thing,” he started. “This information stays inside this room, do you understand?” Single nods all round. “The treatment hasn’t delivered the results we hoped for. We’re returning home, not because the king has given up but to consider other options.”

“And for the fucking ball.” Craig smirked, breaking the tension.

“Hey, I like the ball!” Kurt proclaimed.

“For the chicks,” Tom teased, although it had been at one of the balls that he’d met his mate. That she was the sister of the Russo’s was something they were all cognizant of.

“Anyone know the theme yet?” Kurt asked.

“Victorian era.”

“Top hats and skirts big enough to fit under. Excellent,” someone else said.

“I prefer those little flapper dresses of the twenties.” Kurt shrugged.

“They’d look good on you.”

“Fuck off.”

Brayden smiled, happy the team was in good spirits. He nodded to Craig, who dismissed the team. “Okay, that’s a wrap.”

The room emptied out as Craig closed his laptop and pushed a few buttons to shut off the digital projection on the wall.

“Who’s organizing the jets?”

“I am,” he said, and continued packing up, putting his equipment and files in a black shoulder bag. He pushed a pen through a black loop, positioning it carefully.

“What’s up?” He knew Craig nearly as well as he knew himself. Something was off.

The male stood up to his full height and put his hands on his hips, considering him. Across the table, he stood nearly to Brayden’s height and width, but not quite. Still, he was a big male, and with those piercing green eyes and tribal tats, he most certainly wasn’t a metro man, as the humans called them.

No, Craig was all muscle and didn’t beat around the bush. When triggered, those fangs came out, and he was a mean-looking motherfucker. He was also strong as fuck. It was his loyalty and ability to lead that had secured his position as Brayden’s second in charge all those centuries ago.

That and their history. Not for the first time, Brayden wondered what Craig would be capable of if the guy had their potent royal blood. He still wouldn’t have the kind of power Brayden had, but he’d be a wrecking ball, that’s for sure.

“Not a fucking thing,” he replied. “You?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Craig was the only vampire on the planet he allowed to speak to him that way.

“Do you have your period or something?” Brayden put his jacket on and started walking toward the door. He sighed when the guy didn’t respond. “Ask me what you want to know, Craig.”

“You won’t fucking answer.”

“I will.”

“All right. Is she your mate?”

He froze.

“I rest my case.”

Brayden clutched the door handle.

“Forget it. I need your head back in the game, and before you kick my ass for that comment, you need to know something. You’re being watched.”

Dropping the handle, he turned, fury building in his veins. “I’m sorry, what? Who. Is. Watching. Me?”

Craig closed the space between them and stopped a few feet away. “They’re not just watching you, Brayden. They’re watching Vincent, Kate, and your girlfriend.”

He grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. Craig didn’t flinch.

“Why the fuck are you just telling me now? Who are they?” he growled, his eyes glowing with the power of the Moretti blood. When Craig glared at him, he released his grip and let him drop back to the floor. “Tell me.”

“Russo’s males,” he replied, tugging his black uniform back down. “One followed you after you left last night. I followed his port energy and found him standing outside Willow’s house as you went in.”

“What did he do?”

“Watched the house for a few minutes, then left. He wasn’t aware I followed him.” Of course he wasn’t. Craig couldn’t be seen or traced if he didn’t want to.

“Why didn’t you arrest the fucker?”

“For what? Sightseeing? Protecting the prince?”

Brayden’s fangs made an appearance.

“You think I wouldn’t have acted should I had cause? Fuck you, Brayden.”

He looked into the eyes of his friend and retracted his fangs. Fuck, he’d been an asshole lately. He had a few good reasons though. One, he’d had to accept he would become king; two, the queen wanted him to fuck her so she could get pregnant; and three, he strongly suspected the human he was banging was his mate.

None of which was casual watercooler conversation.

Also, if anyone called what he was doing with Willow banging, he’d rip their throat out.

“Fuck! I apologize,” he said, shaking his head and turning away for a moment.

Craig simply nodded. And that would be it. The centuries of history between them would take more than a butting of heads to break.

“There’s more.” Brayden gritted his teeth as Craig continued. “Regan asked me to double the queen’s security.”

Brayden tensed momentarily, then forced himself to relax. There was no way anyone could know about the discussion between him and the queen yesterday. No matter what happened, it was one secret he would be taking to his grave. If he ever had one.

“I want eyes on Regan.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, but stopped. Looking at his commander with narrowed eyes, he gave him a direct instruction. “In fact, they need to be yours. The queen’s security stays as it is. If he tries to dictate any security changes again, direct him to me.”

Craig nodded and walked back to his bag, picking it up.

“She’s not my mate,” Brayden said quietly, finally answering the male’s question. He sent Willow a text as he spoke. “She’s important to me, but she’s not my lifemate.”

“Are you sure? Because you were sparkling like a firecracker a minute ago.”

He turned back for the door. “Like I said, she’s important.”

He heard Craig groan behind him.

Even if she were, he couldn’t destroy her life. She deserved better than having her life ripped away from her like his mother had.

Fuck, he had no mental capacity right now to think about that.

Right now, he had a queen to deal with.