“Fine,” the man says, oblivious to the turmoil inside my head, the cold sweat running down my back, the ache in my fucking heart. “If you’re sure.”
Oblivious to my strange distress, she turns toward me, a smile on her face. “Shall we, my lord?”
“Yeah,” I say, my lips numb, my mind slow to process anything, especially when she takes my hand, sliding her slender fingers against mine. “Like you said, I can’t wait to sleep on a real bed tonight, before we continue our journey.”
“Where are you heading?” the man asks, a persistent, talking ass.
“Lord Eorl’s manor,” she says before I can shush her. “He’s waiting for us.”
“I see.” He’s frowning but relenting in the face of her easy companionship toward me. “He’s taking you there?”
“That’s correct. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day.”
He nods and watches us as she pulls me across the square. I glance back at him, but her hand in mine distracts me so much I barely register the lingering doubt in his expression.
I bare my teeth at him—not a smile, as humans are wont to do, but a menacing expression common to the fae and, well, wolves. It promises pain.
I hope he gets the message.
Meanwhile, she leads the way as if she knows which direction we should be taking. She’s wrong, but it takes me a moment to realize, still focused on her touch, the absolute delight of having her take the initiative and lead me away.
Does it make me hard?
You bet.
But wasn’t I hard for her already?
Definitely.
She makes me hard in many different ways, if that makes sense. It probably doesn’t. Never had this happen to me before. I don’t even fucking know how to explain it. I desire her in many ways.
Unless it’s not all desire. Unless…
“Valen…” She stops, drawing her lower lip between her small white teeth, and yeah, I’m so hard, dammit. Getting harder. My cock is a work of rock art right now. “I think…”
“… that we’re lost?”
She nods, worry in her blue eyes. “Do you know the way?”
“Yes, Princess. Leave it to me.” Regretfully, gently, I tug my hand from hers. “Just one thing: when in company, don’t touch me too much. I’m sorry. I know you’re helplessly drawn to me.” I wink at her and am rewarded with a frown. “But you’re going to get married. And people talk. Gossip travels. You don’t want to give the wrong impression.”
“But… just by holding your hand?”
“You’re priceless,” I say and mean it. “Among the wolves, holding someone’s hand could either be ignored or be the cause of a war, depending on how set your future bondmate is on you.”
“And is it?” she whispers.
“Is it what?”
“A cause of war.”
“For Lord Eorl?” I shrug. “Like I said, it depends on how much he wants you.”
“No,” she says, “I meant for you.”
I stare at her. “I… Fuck, I have no rights over you.”
“Nobody does,” she says.
