Chapter 22

Creed

"You know that Jessalyn is planning something," Silas said.

My eyes flicked from my plate to the stairs. The princess had already gone to her bath… Or had she? I went to rise, but Arik saw me and snapped, "Sit down. She hasn't committed to anything just yet, but I'll wager good Kheanian gold that she's up there whispering in that lad's ear right now."

"Of course, she is."

My voice was more wolf than man as my beast pushed me hard. He couldn't understand why we hadn't plunged our dick in the princess the moment we'd met her, especially when she'd stripped every stitch off and stood between us all. She'd smelt wet, hot, and receptive, and as the pack had clustered around her, it was clear that she accepted them, accepted me. The battle I'd waged with the wolf—to stop myself from pulling her close and sinking my fangs into her neck, claiming her for all to see—was the hardest I'd fought in my life.

I may have won that battle, but I felt like I was losing the war every day.

I could still feel the burn of her fingers against my skin when she gripped my hand and told me… There was no stink of fear, nor the sour scent of duplicity that hung around so many people when they found out what I was. She'd—

"She's trouble, with a capital T," Roan said, but his grin made it clear that he wasn't unhappy with the situation. "Women always are. But that one… So, what do you want to do about it, O great and glorious leader?"

"One of us will stand watch outside her door all night," Arik said, with a sigh. Staying in townships usually meant we could catch up on our sleep, with no need for guard duty. "If she so much as farts in the night, we go in there and check on her."

"Which will piss her off to no end," Silas noted, with a grim smile.

"I'm not letting the finer sensibilities of a princess jeopardise our mission," Arik growled.

"Not saying you would." Silas nodded at the commander. "Just that we all have our kinks, and yours is seeing her feathers ruffled." He lounged against the back of the bench seat. "Jessalyn does look so pretty when her colour's up. Her eyes flash, and those pouty little lips start to purse, making me long to—"

"You can satisfy your longings here, with the women who accept good coin for the trouble." Arik nodded to the serving wenches circling the floor with jugs of ale. Some of them had already been shooting us sidelong looks, trying to gauge if we were receptive. They'd met my eyes, then paled at whatever they saw in them, before averting their gazes quickly.

But Jessalyn hadn't.

She'd stared into my eyes without fear. I was a dominant male in wolf shifter circles, and most women—most men for that matter—found themselves looking away, without knowing why. Some long-hidden instinct came to the fore, warning the humans they were in the presence of a predator. She hadn't flinched away… ever.

When we first met, I'd thought it was because the roseblood still pumped through her veins, but instead… My hand strayed under the table at the memory, and I pushed at the swollen length in my pants. Not to stimulate myself, but to try to ease the ache. I knew Jessalyn was the only woman for me, because my knot, that protuberance at the base of my cock, had swelled to life the minute I'd first got close to her.

She was my mate and, if she'd been a wolf shifter, I'd be making overtures to her family, taking all the necessary steps to prove I was the right male for her. It'd be so much simpler. She'd have expected males to step forward and tell her they had a soul bond, all the while waiting to see if the match was a smart one. I'd have known what to bring: the choice parts of an elk I'd brought down myself, then prepared with my own knife. She'd have seen the feast I presented her, the blood on my hands and body, and licked her lips, knowing I could provide for her. Humans, on the other hand, were confusing, with their games and their rules and this strange appearance of bloodlessness, even as they stabbed their knives into each other's backs. But I wouldn't let myself be distracted by that. I knew my role as her protector, which was why I volunteered for guard duty.

"I'll stand watch," I said.

"You were on guard last night." Arik stabbed his carving knife in my direction as he continued, "You need to sleep."

"I'll sleep tomorrow—"

"Perhaps in her ladyship's carriage?" Roan grinned. "With your head nestled in her lap. It's very soft, you know. For a little thing, she's quite plush."

"Shut up about Jessalyn," I snarled. "She's not some tavern wench, so don't be talking about her like she is."

"The less sleep you have, the easier it is for the wolf to push forward." Arik's words stopped me and Roan from continuing to argue, and an uneasy quiet fell over across the table. "You'll need to keep him in line, brother, for the entire journey."

"That's not going to be possible." Silas always observed everyone around him so closely, picking up all kinds of information, that his green eyes seemed almost like a wolf's. "The closer we get to the capital, the less control Creed will have." He regarded the entire table. "None of us want to be on this fucking mission. We didn't when we left Khean and Jessalyn was just the name of another high-born lass to be ferried from one country to another. And we definitely don't now that we've got to know her."

"Told you not to get close to her," Arik said. "Like giving your pig a name when you've got every intention of turning it into bacon at some point."

"Except she's not a fucking pig," I snapped. "She's a girl, a woman, my…"

I let my voice trail away. I couldn't let them see what I intended. The minute I'd held Jessalyn in my arms, I'd known I would not surrender her to the king. I had allowed her to be brought into Kheanian territory only because we would have to pass through my family's packlands on our way.

They'd know what to do. The deal our people had struck with the Kheanian king was an uneasy one. He was a venal, bloody-minded, foul creature and none of that sat right with my people. We respected strength, but that wasn't the type of power the king wielded. His power stank of fear—his, as well as that of his victims—and no wolf shifter would ever allow himself to become like that. The minute we came before the elders, I'd explain what the princess was to me and plead our case.

Khean kept Lanzene and Matteau from our borders largely through the might of the many wolf shifters in the army. We fought gladly to keep our country free, but that relationship was outlined in our treaty, one that allowed us to court any woman, regardless of rank, if we believed her to be our fated mate. None of us had been forced to test the limits of that agreement, but I would.

The king didn't care about Jessalyn: neither who she was, nor what she wanted, nor, least of all, what she needed. He'd selected her from a list of unmarried princesses but certainly not for her dowry or connections. Stormare was a tiny territory, with no other significance than its location between the three kingdoms. The only reason the king had chosen each of the princesses to be his wife was to prove that he could.

None of the women existed as a person to him; he cared not that they might be as rare and as pretty as a hothouse flower. They were a means for him to prove his dominance, to make clear that none of the nations would dare rise against him. By degrading, then destroying, their feminine representatives, he rammed the message home. The three most powerful countries on the continent remained in an uneasy truce, maintained by the deadlock of mutually assured destruction. That and if any of the smaller countries thought to threaten that by throwing their lot in with Lanzene or Matteau, he'd show them the error of their ways.

And he'd need the might of the wolf shifters to do just that.

But the king would not do that to Jessalyn. Never her. The wolf welcomed the fire that now flared hot in my chest, for his will had broken a little more each time we brought another princess to the capital. The first time… We hadn't known what was going to happen. The second… Arik had been forced to subdue me, drug me until we reached the capital. He'd whispered harsh words of the potential threats to my people, my family, my pack.

And no one knew the true extent of the cruelty of Magnus, King of Khean, like Arik.

"Leave me to guard her," I told Arik, my tone making it clear I'd brook no argument. "You know I will, no matter who you put on the door. And if the wolf… If he pushes too hard, I'll sleep at her door in fur, not skin."

"Gods…" Arik shook his head sharply. "Fine. I'll make clear to the innkeeper that killing the wolf at the top of his stairs would be a mistake. But stay alert, brother. She's as wilful as any princess we've had to escort. The king was misinformed if he thinks she'll go quietly to her fate."

There was a moment of silence, as we remembered the ones who had.

They'd thought they could buy themselves some mercy, a quicker end perhaps, but that wasn't how the King of Khean worked. He saw passivity as permission, just as he saw resistance as a blot that needed to be obliterated with the most brutal of force. He'd made sure to have them all screaming, despite the resolutions they'd made on the way to the capital.

But not Jessalyn.

My nails became claws, raking across the wooden tabletop, making Arik shake his head. I'd fight with everything I had and ask my people to do the same, to keep her safe. And I'd die trying if that was what it took.