Chapter Thirteen #2
She lowers herself to the floor in front of me, and my cock strains against my pants. I have to stifle a moan. My wolf growls inside me with want. Her submission is appealing to this predator. Watching our prey crawl to her demise is . . .
I suck in a breath.
Intoxicating.
Shit. She’s dangerous.
I have to look away to collect myself. I pretend to be bored, impatient and unimpressed. But there was everything impressive about the way her hips move and breasts sway. She is effortlessly sexy.
I don’t have a prayer. This vixen wasn’t sent by the Moon Goddess. But from the depths of hell, born of the most tempting sins and bent on breaking me of every moral I have.
I wipe a hand down my face.
Alright, alright. Get it together . . . She killed your father. At the reminder, my boner falls. But I still don’t trust myself. If she keeps this up, I’ll lose it.
I pull on the leash, cutting her crawl short, causing her to stumble. She catches herself before face planting and lifts into a tabletop position. When she does, I pet her head, smoothing her hair. And it takes everything for me not to grab a fistful and shove my dick down her throat.
Instead, I groan, “Good girl.”
People snicker and whisper amongst themselves at the sight of my pet.
Her cheeks are red with embarrassment, and I’m loving every second of her humiliation.
What’s almost just as enjoyable is the raw stench of their fear.
I haven’t even used my alpha command and already, my people bare their necks in submission to me.
It’s working.
This must be what it’s like to be feared.
Only a taste, and I’m drunk on authority.
I made her crawl beside me all the way to the town hall, though I couldn’t watch her beside me.
The sight of her ass and hips dipping was too much for me to handle.
Countless pack meetings have been held here, but the buzz in the room is heightened today.
The place is packed with mermaids, witches, wolves from other packs and vampires—each accompanied by their representatives, parents or advisors.
Many of the eligible bachelorettes on the “short list” the council had arranged weren’t even wolves.
It seems every species is looking to find the next “super breed.”
A table is set at the front for my beta and me.
The walls and floors are complete with cedar, along with the beams on the ceiling to really give it that cabin vibe.
Off to the sides, near the tall windows are the pack’s flags with our crest. Heads turn as I enter with Jay.
I click my teeth like you would to a horse and tug on the leash.
“Don’t click at me.”
There’s that attitude again. I bite back my grin.
Best. Punishment. Ever.
Tyler stands from his chair at the table at the head of the room. “Uh, dude? What’s with the stray?”
“I’m teaching a lesson.” My chair squeaks against the floor, then the one next to me—intended for my mother—follows, making the same sound.
I wave a finger at Jay. “Ah, ah, ah. No dogs on the furniture.” I point to the floor beside me and scoot the chair back in. “Sit.”
If her eyes could shoot lasers, they would have obliterated me. When she sits at my feet, I issue another command. “Stay . . . Good girl.”
She flicks me off.
“She’s not very obedient,” Tyler says.
I shrug. “She’s in training.”
Jay growls. Ignoring unwanted behavior is Training 101 but who could ignore her?
Alright, come on. I hype myself up. There are over thirty beautiful women to choose from. At least one of them has gotta have the potential to replace her.
***
None of them compare. Not even close.
We’re only a quarter through the list, and I know I won’t find anyone more right for me than her.
She doesn’t even seem fazed by the carousel of beautiful women, which is not at all the reaction I was hoping for.
I didn’t expect her to envy them—even at her messiest, they can’t compare.
But how could she not care? If roles were reversed, I’d set off the smoke alarm with the steam coming from my raging jealousy.
Jealousy and envy are often mistaken as the same thing. Envy is wanting what someone else has, while jealousy is fearing what you already have could be taken away.
Then I remember. Duh, the mate bond. She doesn’t know I’m fated to be hers.
“Alright, Next up is . . .” Tyler angles his head to read the list closer. “Ass-er-ah Marinara.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and cringe internally.
A female with platinum blonde curls that cascade down to her waist and holographic freckles on the apples of her cheeks speaks up.
Unbothered by the butchering of her name, she politely corrects Tyler.
“It’s Azura Marina. Azura means heaven and Marina means ‘of the sea.’ Together, it means ‘heaven of the sea.’”
Azura has striking blue eyes that contrast with her dark eyebrows.
The modern ornamental tiara has blushing pink, pearl and stone-colored seashells resting on either side of the crown of her head.
A cone-shaped pendant with small pearls hangs from the gold spikes that pan from the center where there is a much larger pearl.
It’s perfectly positioned over her middle part, dividing styled, face-framing layers.
Her alabaster plunging V-neck dress with pearls and seashells the color of a sunset swishes as she steps forward. She folds her hands in front of her, and the bell sleeves hang off her shoulders and flow behind her.
The rarity of the shells in her royal dress tells me exactly where she’s from. One can only find this variety washed ashore on one reef in the realm.
But of course, Tyler isn’t noticing any details beyond the mermaid’s enhanced beauty.
“Stop staring.”
He acts offended. “I’m not.”
“No? You got a little . . .” I point to the corner of my mouth, and he wipes his face with his sleeve. “There, you got it.”
“Fine. I’ll admit it. I’d gladly drown in her.”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, probably imagining all the ways he’d bait her into his bed.
“Hey, do you think she smells like—”
“Alright, alright. That’s enough. She might be my future mate.”
“You’re right, you’re right.”
A moment of blissful silence passes, then Tyler just has to add, “I’m thinking about having fish for dinner tonight, what about you?”
I growl.
Her father, King Leviathan, stands beside her. Tall, broad in stature with similar features, including the staple blonde hair pinned in a braid behind him. And although she may appear unbothered, her father sure isn’t as amused.
Time to turn on the charm.
“Mr. Waller, may I present to you my daughter, Princess Azura, the heiress to her reef and city, Azuran. Home to the Tide of Azure.”
She curtsies.
I stand. “I apologize on behalf of my beta here. I know exactly who you are, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“You do?” she asks, pleasantly surprised.
“Of course. Your pod and my pack have been allies for some time. That and the Tide of Azure is the largest body of water in the realm. One I’d love to see someday.”
I bow, and she blushes.
Her father’s scowl disappears, quickly replaced with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Seeing as we are already allies, I have to ask, what is it you are seeking with a marital alliance?”
“We heard about how Bloodhound fell due to a lack of trained militia,” he starts.
Internally, I cringe.
“I admire your peaceful approach to lead and govern and think your values align deeply with ours. Together, we might be able to bring peace from the sea and extend it to the land,” she finishes.
Not where I thought she was going with that, but I’m here for it. I guess a ruined reputation is in the eye of the beholder.
Tyler is taking notes on all the eligible maidens. “Mermaid . . .” he writes next to her name. “Got it.”
This is usually the part Tyler would have asked about special powers, but mermaids are pretty standard across their kind.
Telepathy, shifting from fish to human and healing powers through touch.
This isn’t for me. It’s for my pack. My decision will be made objectively.
So I don’t have any more questions besides the generic, “Anything else I should know?”
They exchange glances. King Leviathan speaks hesitantly, “Yes . . . Azura’s mother is a siren. Which would make her . . .”
“A hybrid.” I blink rapidly.
“Yes.”
They study me carefully, but if they’re looking for any signs of rejection, they won’t find any.
Not unless they can read my mind.
Sirens generally have three power families:
The first is persuasion, using hypnosis or song to lure people in. With their beauty alone, they don’t need the song—unless they want to steer an entire ship off course. There will always be guys like Tyler who fall for the trap without it. The other power under the persuasive umbrella is hypnosis.
Pretty self-explanatory.
The second type of siren power is water manipulation, via hydrokinesis or weather control.
Just imagine the damage a sudden and hyper-targeted hurricane or typhoon could do.
I shiver.
The last is mind control and illusions. Psychic illusions alter a victim’s reality.
Memory manipulation twists how they perceive their experiences.
Love compulsion is the ultimate power of seduction, but the one I find most intriguing is psychic pain.
That is the ability to look at someone and cause them to feel excruciating anguish.
But which one does she have?
“And, so her powers are . . . ?”
“Psychic illusions.”
Nice. So that explains Tide of Azura’s long-running safety streak. You think you’re about to destroy a reef or hunt whales when—BAM—it’s gone, and you’re in an active volcano.
“Forgive me, but you don’t look like a siren.”
Azura’s nails flash dark teal as scales ripple under her cheeks. Her eyes blacken, and her teeth elongate into sharp points.
“Still want fish for dinner?” I ask Tyler.
“Would you judge me if I said I was into it?”