I nod. I’ve reached the hall to our quarters. Brokk strides ahead to open the door.
“See to your mate. We’ll talk later.”
I duck inside, carrying Haley straight to the tub. She likes to be clean. The servants have already drawn a hot bath, and I set her down to strip off her boots and the torn remains of her tunic. She grips my hand as she steps in, hissing as her feet hit the water.
I back up, leaving muddy bootprints on the floor. I do not belong here. In the forest, I’m at ease. Here, the air closes in, stealing my breath. Footsteps echo in the stone halls, stealing my peace. The assorted smells are too strong and concentrated.
“Hunter?” Haley’s cheeks are flushed. She’s melted against the side of the tub but stretches her fingers towards me. “Do you want to wash?”
I grab a cloth and dunk it in the bath, running it over the muddiest parts of myself. If I stare too long at my Omega’s body in the water, I’m going to want to rut her again.
My cock swells. Maybe I should—
Water sloshes and by the time I turn, Haley has exited the bath. She’s wrapped a cloth around herself but plenty of her light golden skin is on display, wet and gleaming.
“What’s wrong?” She pulls the sodden mass of her dark hair into a bunch and leans over the bath to squeeze the water from it. It’d be so easy to whip her around and bend her over the tub, but… no. She wants to talk.
She always wants to talk, and I have no words for her.
“You don’t blame yourself for the attack?” she asks.
I shrug. A king protects his kingdom. His people. Above all, his Omega.
I stomp away from the tub ahead of her, and snatch up a tunic the servants have laid out for her.
Haley follows. The bond between us is heavy, as if laden with river silt. She takes the tunic and turns away, murmuring to herself, “I wish I could understand you.”
She thinks she’s spoken too low for me to hear, but I did hear her. Without thinking, I stride to the outer wall, where large windows display the forest. Every other panel can swing outward. One is cracked open to let the night air in. It would be so easy to run.
She wants me to make myself known to her. What would I say? I barely remember a few things about my parents. I remember the warmth of my mother, followed by fear and loss. My mother and my father are dead, I am sure of it, but I don’t remember how. The forest became my home. I learned the language of the vines and trees before I learned to speak. I grew curious of my fellow Ulfarri, but the villagers threw stones, and I learned to stay away.
I should have stayed in the forest.
A small hand is placed in the center of my back. I still. Haley sidles up to me and presses herself against my back. Her hand makes its way around until she’s splayed it over my chest. Despite the sullen, black echo in the bond between us, I capture her hand and press it to my heart.
“It’s not your fault, Hunter.” Her breath puffs between my shoulder blades. “You saved us. You saved me.”
I thread my large fingers between her tiny ones. She is closer to me than any other. Maybe I can make her understand.
Boots scuffle outside the door, preceded by a sour scent. My head snaps in that direction just before a sharp rap rings out on the wood.
“My king,” comes Mikkan’s muffled voice. “Please. There is an emergency in the throne room. You must come and see.”
* * *
Haley
We’re back in the audience chamber again. It’s only been a short while since that hideous giant snake reared up, but instead of going to bed and being held by Hunter, which is what I want—need—to do, we need to face the angry mob demanding that the king do something about the Slythin.
Having seen them up close and personal, I can understand that now, more than ever. I’ve never been afraid of snakes, but fuck, that one was bigger than a car. It could have fit my entire body into its mouth.
I shudder.
Hunter was heroic and sexy in the way he rescued me, and once again I’m struck by the contrast between what he says and what he does. He’s hard to read and he struggles to communicate—probably because of delayed speech development—but he treats me so well… organizing a romantic picnic, rescuing me from a monster, looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
Now he’s on the throne beside me, glaring down the agitated mob. I didn’t even get a chance to grab a different tunic, which is why I’ve got my legs crossed firmly while I’m sitting on this throne. The tunic only goes to mid-thigh, I don’t want to give the Arborii an eyeful of my lady parts.
The mob in the chamber is settling. Angry mutters are more muted. A few villagers have brought their children, and in the back of the room, a baby is crying. The sound sets my teeth on edge.
