I make a sound of disbelief.
Llywelyn wriggles in my arms. “But it will be my greatest honour to help you realise that.”
Okay, now I am going to kiss him. And then I’ll get distracted and not get back to work for hours.
But I couldn’t care less.
Chapter thirty-two
The sharp knock echoes through Llywelyn’s rooms. I swiftly walk out of the study, away from the murder board, and lock the door behind me.
I hurry to the main sitting room and plaster my ‘dumb human pet’ expression onto my face. If this is Prys knocking on Llywelyn’s door again, it is going to be really hard not to punch him.
Llywelyn looks up from his game of solitaire and we both watch Tae open the door. A smartly dressed servant hands Tae a small silver plate with a perfectly rolled scroll on it, before turning on her heels and striding away.
Tae brings the plate and the scroll to Llywelyn. The prince furrows his brow, picks up the note, and unties the pretty red ribbon. His eyes scan over the paper.
“What does it say?” I blurt, because apparently all my patience has abandoned me.
“It’s a dinner invitation,” replies Llywelyn.
My hands curl into fists. “From who?”
“Selwyn.”
I huff out a breath and uncurl my fists. Selwyn is far better than some creep trying to paw at Llywelyn. Even if he is a dodgy, untrustworthy bastard.
Llywelyn carelessly lets the invitation fall onto the table. “Shall we go?” he says as he looks up at me.
Something in my soul stirs, so intensely it nearly takes my breath away. Llywelyn is deferring to me. And I love it. With an intensity that is a little frightening.
It is not the first time he has done so. But the casual, easy nature of this occurrence is special.
“Yes,” I say decisively.
He nods and flows to his feet. “I’ll get your leash.”
I blink in surprise. “The invitation is for right now?”
“Yes,” calls Llywelyn over his shoulder as he picks up my leash from the side table.
I walk over to him and he gently clips the chain onto my collar. Our gazes meet and hold. There was a time when I was counting down the days until I was free of this collar. Now, I think I might miss it.
My gaze roams upwards, and I smile.
“What?” Llywelyn asks with narrowed eyes.
“You are already displaying your antlers. You were wearing them in your rooms.”
He blushes slightly. More evidence for my theory that horns are tied to mood. One day, I want to make him so happy that he can manifest his horns all the time with no effort at all.
My hand lifts up, and my fingers run along one magnificent tine. It is warmer than I expected. Softer too. Llywelyn shivers and leans into my touch. My eyes snap back down to his, just in time to see his pupils dilating.
My eyebrows rise. My heart hammers in excitement. Horns are erogenous? Touching them feels good? Oh, I have to explore this.
“We are going to be late for dinner,” whispers Llywelyn.
Shit. Maybe we don’t have to go? We can find out what Selwyn wants another time.
