Chapter 3
· King Soren ·
Blood pounds in my ears, but my main focus is on Bree.
I grasp her tighter to me—her breath hot against my neck, her body trembling from exertion and the aftermath of adrenaline and nearly dropping dead on me.
The howls from wolves in the forest grow nearer as they pick up our auras and her scent which is intoxicating.
I shouldn’t be using my calling on her, but I also can’t have her tearing me apart, either.
Max, noticing me as I step out of the tree line, escapes and rushes toward me. His face streaked with tears.
“She saved me,” he gasps out between heavy breaths, his eyes wide. “Killed one rogue, then jumped when the others ran. She saved me, even from herself,” he says standing on his tippy toes trying to peek at her.
“Max, inside, she is naked!” I scold, as he tugs on my arm trying to see her.
“So I’ve seen everyone naked, they’re always naked around here, Dad.
It should be a nudist kingdom, especially after seeing Grandpa's hairy balls!” he shudders.
“He’s got a hairy butt, too!” I snicker, he has a point.
Nudity is not something any of us worry about with shifting so frequently, still, I’m not sure how comfortable Bree is with nudity around others.
My grip on her tightens instinctively when I peer up seeing all my guards watching us, protectiveness flaring.
I growl at my men and they instantly turn their gazes away when Damian arches a brow stomping toward me.
I can feel my own snarl distorting my face as I confront him since he is always saying how much of a danger she is to Max, yet she jumped to her death to save him.
“Still think she’s a threat to my son?” My voice is a venomous growl, daring him to contradict the truth that’s just been laid bare.
Damian’s gaze falters, his lips pressing into a thin line before he nods stiffly and hurries to snatch up Max, who is already retreating.
“Hey, put me down!”
“No, it’s your bedtime, Mr. Brat!” Damian snaps at him, dangling him by one foot while Max swings his arms wildly at him, his tiny arms not long enough to make contact.
I shake my head and follow them across the manicured lawns thankful for the moon being covered by the clouds rolling across the sky.
My heart sinks as reality sets in: she’s going to shift again once that moon peeks out.
My calling keeps her subdued but I can’t avoid her shifting, she needs to shift.
The thought is suffocating, squeezing the air from my lungs as I hold onto her because her scent is only growing stronger which is weird.
Sure, werewolves hunt and mate on a full moon but her scent is unusually strong and I worry she’ll lure wolves to the castle.
Opening the mindlink to all my men. “Guard the perimeters, double the patrols.”
“Why?” Damian asks immediately.
“Her scent is crazy strong, it’s even affecting me.”
“Shit, just what we need, a she-wolf in heat,” he growls.
“That makes no sense, she hasn’t been marked by anyone, she can’t go in heat.”
“You can send her into one. You’ve been using your calling on her,” he reminds me. I glance down at her. She is going to kill me when she breaks it and comes to.
“You’re Lycan, Soren. Lycans can override any mate bond, marked or not. Should have thought about that before using your calling on her!” he snaps, closing the link. I see my men rush off in all directions to get ready to protect the perimeters if needed.
The entire castle grounds seem to hold its breath as we stand there, the world reduced to the space between her frantic heartbeat and mine.
The observatory looms before us, a glass dome beneath the luminescent glow of the moon which if she is in a full-blown heat we’ll need.
“Unlock the observatory!” I order anyone near it.
Her skin is feverish against my touch as I carry her inside.
One of the castle maids rushes out unlocking it with shaking hands, casting nervous glances at her when Bree without warning shifts in my arms, turning savage.
She tears into me, trying to escape. The maid shuts the door behind us.
“My King, this won’t hold her, it’s made of glass,” the maid warns and I peer around at the observatory.
It’s filled with trees, ferns, and plants; it used to be a huge glass aviary.
My late wife loved exotic birds but once she passed, I turned it into a greenery.
When Max wanted to build his own garden, he wanted one like in some movie he watched when he was three.
It’s overgrown now and is more like a jungle inside a glass dome.
“It will hold, it’s bulletproof. Find me some chains; I don’t want her hurting herself trying to get out. We can find something to anchor them to.”
She rushes off while I keep a grip on Bree who is almost frantic in my arms.
She bites me, tearing a chunk from my arm, and I growl at her.
My blood starts pouring from the wound. When she bites me a second time, I lose my grip and drop her.
She hits the ground and I barely move quick enough to catch her.
She makes a strangled whimper sound and I drag her back between my legs, holding the scruff of her neck when the maid returns.
The chains glint coldly in the moonlight.
“Come on,” I coax, my voice gentle. I fumble with the heavy chains, trying to secure them around her neck. She’s trembling, resisting not out of defiance but fear as my aura rushes over her.
“Please,” I murmur, hating the necessity of this, hating that I must lock and cage her. The chains won’t close, her strength now so much stronger in this form, more than I can contend with without hurting her.
I drop the chain. “Lock me in with her,” I command. “And open the roof.”
The maid’s eyes widen, a silent question there, but she nods, understanding the gravity of my request. I can see she wants to argue with me as she glances at Bree thrashing in my grip.
“Now!” I order her and she rushes off. With a click that echoes ominously through the space, the door seals shut behind us, leaving me stuck inside with her.
I step back, watching the sky above us peel away as the roof retracts, exposing us to the night’s sky. She sniffs the air, and shakes out her fur before sniffing the ground.
“This is Max’s, don’t destroy it,” I tell her and she growls at me, turning away, sniffing plants trying to find a way out.
She walks into a glass wall and I laugh as she shakes her head, then growls at her own reflection.
Werewolves are such strange creatures, they are animals in this form, no control.
Yet somehow she held enough control not to hurt my son which baffles me.
She paws at the window, her claws scraping the glass, creating a horrid noise.
“You can’t get out,” I tell her, and she spins with a growl, like she forgot she wasn’t alone in here.
The ferocity in her eyes dims as she stares at me`, tilting her wolfy head to the side like she is wondering what I am, despite her human side knowing already. Her scent saturates the air potently, growing vastly stronger as she sniffs the air. She stalks me and I start moving backward.
“Easy now, Bree,” I tell her before stumbling over a plant root. A loud gasp escapes me as I hit the floor, landing on my ass. I glare at the fern root protruding from the ground when she suddenly purrs. My eyes snap to her.
“Wait, don’t,” I warn her even as her form shudders and reshapes into something far too human.
She stands before me, naked and panting, the moonlight casting a lustrous sheen over her skin.
Her chest heaves with each breath, and there’s still that wild, untamed edge to her movements—an animalistic grace.
“Shift back,” I repeat, though it’s unnecessary now. She’s here, in her human form, yet nothing about her is subdued. There’s a rabid gleam in her eye that makes my own instincts rear up in response.
Bree—so vulnerable yet impossibly tempting as I try to hold my breath–her body language screams of need, of a desire so strong it borders on madness.
She’s temptation, promising both ecstasy and doom.
Her hair is a tangled mess framing her face, lips parted as if waiting for a kiss or a bite, I’m not sure which; however, her teeth are razor sharp, poking beneath her plump lips.
I can’t steal her innocence, not like this, not when she’s driven by a heat that is completely my fault. Then she mauls me, nails digging into my arms, as I fight my instincts. The scent of her overwhelms my senses; it’s intoxicating, maddening.
“Stop,” I manage to choke out again, but it’s half-hearted.
Her body slams against mine. “Bree, you don’t want this!
” I tell her as her pussy grinds against my hard cock.
Warm and wet, I want to sink into her but I grip her hips refusing to take advantage of her while she is like this.
Her teeth sink into my shoulder, her tongue lapping at my flesh, and I groan.
My fingers trace her skin, exploring the fevered warmth of her. It’s meant to be comforting, an attempt to soothe the beast within her, yet it only stokes the fire. Each touch is a spark, and she responds with a growl of frustration as she tries to take what she wants when I don’t let her.
Guilt swells within me, dark and bitter. This isn’t her fault; it’s mine. I’ve brought her to this edge, and now I teeter alongside her.
“Forgive me,” I murmur, though the plea is lost amidst her guttural cries. I fear she might hate me once the dawn breaks and clarity returns. For now, I am swept away by the tempest of her heat, and all I can do is hold onto her and hope we survive the night without me fucking her senseless.