Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ROSAMUND
I’m angry at Valen, but mostly… mostly I’m angry that I’m not supposed to hold his hand in public. Because of what my future husband may think.
I shouldn’t be upset. Valen is trying to help me, protect me, like Della used to do.
Della… Gods, I miss her. I miss my home. Even those two lumps, Kier and Bert. They have their faults, but they are my family. I always knew I’d call for these three once I settled down with Lord Eorl. I can still do it.
If it all goes well.
No reason why it shouldn’t. Except… Except I barely escaped with my life, and I’ve been on the road for days with a werewolf.
Surely, Lord Eorl will see why it was necessary, why I had to flee, and that Valen helped me. Valen is right, we need to discourage any rumors. Avoid holding his hand. Easy as pie. It’s not like I need to keep touching him, that I enjoyed being in his arms…
I hurry after his tall, muscular frame. His bare back is a work of art, muscles tightening and shifting as he turns to glance at me.
“Something the matter?”
I shake my head and follow him. He has scars on his back.
Most of them are old and faded, white lines.
I wonder if he got them as a wolf or in this human form.
I want to know how often he fully shifts, and the circumstances.
Is it true that he has to shift regularly?
Does he shift to fight others? To court females? Males, too, or is he only into women?
And what does that matter to me? It doesn’t. Shouldn’t. Who he desires and prefers to sleep with is none of my business. I’m not sleeping with him.
Gods forbid.
I mean, I don’t even desire him. My belly doesn’t clench every time I look at him, every time those impressive muscles shift, every time he lifts me in his arms or smiles that annoying smirk at me, all-knowing and arrogant.
I don’t crave him when he touches me, when he hauls me against him, when I realize he’s aroused. When he talks about being hard for me. When he gazes at me with that shadow of lust in his amber eyes.
When he partly shifts, and his tail comes out, when his teeth become long and sharp, and his hands turn into claws.
When he growls, and his voice turns deeper, when he leaps on anyone who even thinks about attacking me.
When he’s angry with my future husband and says they’ll need to pass muster before being allowed around me.
…Shit. I do desire him. I want him and have feelings for him. I got it bad.
What am I going to do now?
Nothing. I do nothing. Just follow him to the inn, trying to think of other things, like a warm meal, a soft bed, maybe even a hot bath, which reminds me of Valen in my bathtub back in my room, naked, grinning at me, inviting me to look—
“This way, Princess.” He gestures at a two-story building across the street. “We’ve arrived at our luxurious lodgings.”
The street gate is open, and a cart pulled by a tired-looking horse exits.
The carter doesn’t even look our way as he snaps the reins and the horse’s hooves clap on the stones paving the street.
The paint on the outer wall of the inn is peeling, and its lower part is green with moss.
The double doors, open inwardly, barely hang on their hinges.
A sudden urge to laugh grips me, and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle my snicker.
“What is it?” Now he looks concerned, those thick, pale brows gathering like clouds over his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I wave a hand at him, and another fit of snickering grips me. “It’s just so…”
“Opulent? Rich? Way above our means?”
Unable to help myself, I guffaw. “Yes. That. Above our means. Are you sure we can afford to stay here?”
“Contacts, princess. Didn’t I say so?” He wags his brows. “Look what my contacts got me. The very best for you and me.”
Now we’re both laughing, and the sound of his mirth is like sweet and spicy wine, warm and intoxicating, making me drunk.
“This…” I gesture again at the decrepit inn. “This palace.”
“An architectural gem.” He wipes at his eyes. “The crowning jewel of this town.”
“Well, the town isn’t…” I have to stop and breathe. “Isn’t all that magnificent.”
“Careful now,” he retorts. “The level of culture in this town is hard to credit. Such wonderful people, like that ax-bearing man—”
“That idiot?”
“—who was so eager to behead me for touching your sacrosanct body.” His laughter fades. “I appreciate that, though. That he would look out for you.”
“I don’t want his concern,” I mutter, my mirth fading, too. “He wanted to hurt you.”
“And since when do you care, Princess?”
“I…” I sigh and lift my hand to my locket. His gaze follows the movement, hardening. “I don’t know.”
“Is that your official answer?”
“Yes.” I frown at him. There’s that hot rage in his eyes again, making them glow like fires. “The question is, since when do you care about my answers?”
“I always have, from the very beginning,” he says, “didn’t you realize? I started caring from the very beginning.”
And grabbing my hand, he starts toward the inn, not waiting for me to say anything else at all.
The inn isn’t that terrible from the inside. The walled yard where the horses and carts are being taken care of isn’t all that filthy, and once we are inside the inn’s main hall with its roaring fire and the tables crowded with people, it feels almost cozy.
As we stand there, a curvy woman walks over to us, wiping her hand on a filthy apron. “What can I get you? Here to eat or sleep, or both?”
“Both,” I say.
“And a bath whenever possible,” Valen adds.
The woman’s gaze dips to our linked hands, and I remember Valen warning me not to hold his hand in public, but then the woman suddenly grins and claps. “My Lord Valerian. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Mariella.” He smiles. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your voice down.”
“Oh. Are you in trouble? Or… I know, you’re having a secret tryst with this lady.”
“Oh, no.” I wince, try to pull my hand free, and Valen doesn’t let go. “He’s only my bodyguard.”
Mariella throws her head back and laughs. “Bodyguard? Hilarious.”
“Why?” Offended, I glower at her.
“He’s Lord Valerian Canagan. Of the Blue Star House. Alpha wolf and son of the late Blue Star priestess, Imethia Canagan. Ares’ disciple. The Lost Son with the white streak in his hair.”
“Returned? Wait, so… you’re a priest?” I gape at him.
But he shakes his head and chuckles. “Gods forbid. I’m the opposite of what a priest would be like.”
“He’s also the son of High Lord Eonnan, who defied his father to marry the Blue Star Priestess, once thought to be the prophesied Maiden, though she wasn’t. Quite the scandal, that was. And the temple was at a loss. Didn’t know what to do with them. They had to keep her, of course.”
“As if they had a choice,” Valen snickers.
Why is she laughing? Why is Valen snickering as if they’re sharing an insider joke?
Then they both sober up. “Your mother was lovely,” she says. “You must miss her.”
“I do,” Valen says. “All the time.”
“And your father? How is he holding up?”
“Oh, you know him. Keeping himself busy with the estates and his newest bedwarmer.”
“Good for him. Languishing in sorrow isn’t healthy. And that goes for you, too, boy. Good thing you left that miserable temple, at last.” She elbows him cheerfully and winks at me. “Is she the cure for your sorrow?”
“She’s the cure to every ailment,” he says.
“Bottle her up,” she giggles, “and sell her at the fair.”
“Excuse me,” I mutter, a little annoyed and also quite puzzled. “I’m right here.”
Valen hauls me closer to him. “I’m only accompanying her home.”
The woman laughs and elbows him again. “Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?”
“Please, Mariella. We’re trying to pass undetected. We need a room for the night, and in the morning we’ll disappear.”
“Ah.” She nods. “Got it. Silent as the grave, that’s me.”
Valen looks a little worried, but people are arriving, and Mariella’s attention shifts. “A room, please.”
“Sure.” She reaches for her belt, where a huge ring hangs, laden with keys. She removes one and hands it to me. “The Star room. It’s fitting. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have guests to attend.”
“Send up food!” Valen calls after her. “And don’t forget the bath.”
“Yeah, yeah…” She wanders off, and Valen and I glance at each other.
He grins again.
Good Gods, that grin is devastating. It’s impossible not to grin right back, not to feel heat coiling low in my body when his gaze travels down to my neck, to my breasts—
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s check the royal suite.”