All Jokes Aside （Part 2）
Kieran POV?
I looked around the room. Torin, the mountain who would die before letting anything pass him. Elara, whose mind was sharper than any blade. Silas, my anchor. Mara, my sword. Juno and Jax, the twins and Kael, the chaos that kept us on our toes.
“You know,” I said, a wicked thought crossing my mind as the laughter at Kael’s expense died down to a comfortable lull. I leaned back against the heavy oak table, crossing my arms and fixing my gaze on Mara. “The Council’s biggest gripe is bloodline purity and political alliances.”
Mara was mid-swallow, tilting a tankard of ale back. She lowered it slowly, eyeing me with suspicion. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t like that look. That’s your ‘I have a terrible idea’ look.”
“On the contrary,” I grinned, gesturing to her with my glass. “I have a brilliant idea. Your father is the Pack Alpha of the Ironwood Territory. One of the strongest bloodlines in Valdora. You’re a Vanguard. You’re lethal. You’re a noble.”
I paused for dramatic effect.
“I could just marry you.”
Mara didn’t just choke; she practically detonated.
Ale sprayed across the table, thankfully missing the maps Elara had just rescued from Kael, as she hacked, coughed, and slammed the tankard down so hard the wood splintered.
"Absolutely fucking not!" she wheezed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her face contorted in genuine horror. “Ew! Kai! Just eew!"
The room exploded. Kael was laughing so hard he fell off his chair, and even stoic Torin let out a booming, belly-deep chuckle that shook his beard.
“‘Ew’?” I feigned offense, placing a hand over my heart. “I am the King. I am considered quite the catch, I’ll have you know.”
“You are a headache wrapped in muscle!” Mara gagged, looking at me like I’d just suggested she eat a vampire. “Do you have any idea how miserable we would be? We’d kill each other before the wedding night. Literally. There would be blood on the altar.”
“She’s not wrong,” Silas chimed in, leaning comfortably against the mantelpiece, his arm draped possessively around Elara’s waist.
I looked at my Beta and his mate. Elara was leaning into Silas’s side, a soft smile on her face as she watched Mara sputter.
They were the only two in the pack who had actually figured this ‘mating’ thing out.
They balanced each other perfectly, Silas’s calm strength grounding Elara’s hyper-active mind. Elara was obviously off the table.
“Besides,” Mara continued, finally regaining her breath and pointing an accusing finger at me. “You are so not my type.”
“What is there not to love? I’m strong, I’m rich, I am goodlooking, I have a castle and a bunch of crazy subordinates” I listed, ticking off fingers.
“You’re dominant,” she countered, slashing her hand through the air. “I don’t need an Alpha in my bed. I deal with your orders all day. When I go back to my quarters, I don’t want a challenge.”
She got a dreamy look in her eyes that was frankly terrifying on a woman who could bench press a horse. “I want someone... soft. Someone I can boss around. Maybe a baker. Or a poet. Someone who will rub my feet and not argue when I tell them they’re wrong.”
“So you want a pet,” Jax deadpanned from the corner.
“I want a man who can be the wife, and if that is not possible, just give me a wife,” Mara corrected shamelessly.
“I want to be the husband. And Kai...” She looked me up and down with critical, sisterly affection.
“You need someone who can actually handle you. If you married me, I’d just punch you in the throat every time you got moody. And you’re moody a lot.”
“Valid point,” I conceded, laughing as I grabbed a pitcher to refill her mug. “I think I’d prefer a woman who doesn’t try to establish dominance over the breakfast table.”
“Exactly,” Mara grunted, taking the refill. “So keep your ring to yourself, Your Majesty. I’d rather fight the Draconian naked, as you so beautifully put it earlier.”
“Well, that rules out the internal hire strategy,” Kael wiped a tear from his eye, climbing back into his chair. “And since Elara is already spoken for,” he gestured to Silas, who tightened his grip on his mate with a warning smile, “we are back to square one.”
“Square one isn’t so bad,” I said, looking at the fire. “Square one is quiet.”
“Square one is boring,” Mara muttered into her ale. “But at least it doesn’t involve me wearing a dress. Cheers to that.”
We clinked glasses, the tension of the Council meeting fully dissolved in the wake of our collective absurdity. It was good to know that no matter how much pressure the world put on me to find a partner, my pack had my back.
I glanced out the narrow slit of the castle window. The sun was high, a pale disc behind the eternal mist of Valdora, but bright enough to tell me it was barely past noon. The Council meeting had eaten my morning, but the day... the day was still wide open.
I looked back at my pack. They were trying to relax, but I could see the tension in their shoulders. We weren’t courtiers. We weren’t built for velvet chairs and witty banter about marriage alliances. We were warriors. And we were currently trapped in a stone cage.
“We’re wasting daylight,” I said, setting my glass down on the table with a deliberate clink.
Seven pairs of eyes snapped to me. The room went quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than before. It wasn’t the awkward silence of a rejected proposal; it was the expectant silence of a pack waiting for the command to hunt.
“The border patrols reported strange movement close to the edge of the Forbidden Lands yesterday,” I lied smoothly.
There was no report, but it was an excuse to go to the jagged foothills near the Forbidden Lands, and the terrain was brutal enough to work up a sweat.
“I think it warrants a personal inspection. A deep recon.”
The reaction was instantaneous.
It was like flipping a switch. The languid, bored posture of the room vanished.
Mara was on her feet before I finished the sentence, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
Juno tossed his remaining nuts into the fire, dusting off his hands with a grin that spelled trouble.
Even Torin, who usually moved with the speed of a shifting glacier, stood up and cracked his neck with a sound like a gunshot.
“Finally,” Kael breathed, hopping off his chair. “I was about to start braiding the rug tassels out of sheer boredom.”
“Gear up,” I ordered, pushing off the table. “We leave in ten. And bring your shift-kits. I don’t want a repeat of last month.”
A ripple of laughter went through the room. Last month, Kael had been so eager to chase a red Wyvern that he’d shifted mid-stride without undressing first. He’d shredded a very expensive silk tunic that his mother had gifted him. That did not turn out well.
“It was a statement on consumerism!” Kael protested, though he was already sprinting toward his quarters to grab his leather satchel.
We moved with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, the playful banter was replaced by the clatter of buckles and the rustle of heavy leather.
We didn’t wear armor for these runs, armor was too heavy to carry once we shifted, and it took too long to take off.
Instead, we wore loose, durable traveler’s garb and carried “shift-kits” specially designed, waterproof leather rolls containing a spare set of breeches, a tunic, and boots.
We strapped these kits across our backs. When we shifted, at least we would have the extra clothes in the bags. It was the one logistical nightmare of being a werewolf sometimes. Thankfully everyone here are used to werewolves, so seeing one naked, in human form, is not a big deal.
“Ready?” I asked, looking over my team.
They stood in a loose semi-circle, vibrating with energy. Silas gave me a sharp nod, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger he’d strap to his leg. Elara was checking her medic pouch. Mara looked like she was ready to punch a tree.
“Born ready, boss,” Juno said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Then let’s go,” I grinned, feeling the familiar itch of the wolf beneath my skin, sensing the freedom of the run. “The Forbidden Lands are calling.”
We stormed out of the room, leaving the politics, the marriage proposals, and the stuffy air of the castle behind. The forest was waiting. And if we were lucky, maybe that ‘rogue’ would be there too.