CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The scent of her arousal still lingers in my chambers three days later, a constant reminder of how close we came to mating that night.
I can still feel the way Aubrey's body responded to mine—the soft catch of her breath, the way she arched into my touch, the heat that radiated from her skin like she was burning for me.
Her wolf wanted me; hell, every cell in her body was screaming for completion.
So why did she run?
This wasn't like her nightmares—those happen when she's asleep, vulnerable, lost in memories of her family's massacre.
This was different. She was awake, responsive, completely present with me until something triggered that sudden shift from desperate desire to panic.
Whatever sent her fleeing from my chambers cut through the mate bond's pull in the middle of our most intimate moment.
I've replayed that instant a thousand times—the way her body went rigid, the terror that flashed across her face, how she shoved me away like I'd suddenly become a threat instead of her mate.
It wasn't exhaustion or trauma from old wounds.
This was immediate, visceral fear of me specifically.
"We should have followed her," Liam growls for the hundredth time since that night. "Our mate was in distress, and we let her run."
"She needed space," I remind him, though the decision still gnaws at me. "Chasing her would have made things worse."
But three days of careful distance is wearing thin. The nightmares I understand—I can comfort her through those, hold her until the terror passes. This new fear of intimacy with me? I don't know how to fix what I don't understand.
I shift on the leather couch that's become my bed, the morning sunlight streaming through tall windows doing nothing to ease the tension coiled in my muscles.
Sleeping here while she takes the bed is torture—her scent surrounds me constantly, that intoxicating blend of vanilla and jasmine mixing with my own cedar and storm rain until the air itself feels charged with unfulfilled desire.
Every night I listen to her breathing slow into sleep, fighting the urge to slip into that bed and pull her against me. Every morning I wake hard and aching, my body demanding what my mind knows I can't take.
Not until she's ready. Not until she tells me what's wrong.
A sharp knock at the door interrupts my brooding. "Come in," I call, grateful for any distraction from the sexual frustration that's been my constant companion.
Noah steps inside, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the morning light as he takes in my disheveled appearance on the couch. His knowing look makes me want to throw something at his smug face.
"Rough night?" he asks with barely concealed amusement.
"What do you want, Noah?" I growl, not in the mood for his observations about my sleeping arrangements.
"Trade meeting in your study in an hour," he says, his expression becoming more serious. "Astor's already reviewing the reports, and we have several important matters to discuss."
Right. Royal business. The responsibilities that don't pause just because my personal life is a disaster.
I drag myself off the couch, muscles protesting from another night on the too-short furniture. "Fine. Give me time to make myself presentable."
Noah nods and turns to leave, then pauses at the door. "Knox? Whatever's going on between you and Aubrey—"
"Is none of your business," I finish firmly.
"—will work itself out," he continues as if I hadn't spoken. "Mate bonds have a way of overcoming obstacles, even the ones we create for ourselves."
He's gone before I can respond, leaving me staring at the closed door and wondering if his optimism is justified or just wishful thinking.
An hour later, I'm seated behind my desk in the study, the familiar routine of royal business helping to center my scattered thoughts.
Maps spread across the polished oak surface show our kingdom's vast territories, trade routes marked in different colored inks spanning the known world.
Ledgers bound in leather document our holdings, our wealth, our responsibilities to the people who depend on us.
Noah and Astor sit across from me, the morning light casting their faces in sharp relief as we review the latest reports from our stewards. The kingdom's prosperity has grown significantly over the past year, our strategic position making us valuable trading partners with neighboring realms.
"The grain exports to the eastern kingdoms exceeded projections by thirty percent," Noah reports, adjusting his glasses as he reads from a detailed ledger. "Their harvest failed due to drought, so they're willing to pay premium prices for our surplus."
Astor nods approvingly, his massive frame filling the leather chair as he leans forward to study the numbers. "Smart to maintain multiple trade partnerships. If one kingdom faces hardship, others can compensate."
"What about the mineral rights in the northern territories?" I ask, remembering the reports of significant discoveries there.
"Substantial deposits of iron ore and silver," Noah confirms. "Conservative estimates suggest the land value has increased by forty percent. We've received offers from three different kingdoms interested in purchasing those territories."
The numbers are impressive—enough wealth to fund castle improvements, expand our military, or simply add to the royal coffers. But something about selling off our ancestral lands doesn't sit right with me.
"What's your recommendation?" I ask, though I already know what my gut tells me.
"Don't sell," Astor says immediately. "Those territories aren't just valuable for their minerals. They house our main training grounds, provide employment for hundreds of pack families, and serve as strategic buffers against potential threats."
Noah nods in agreement. "The immediate financial gain doesn't outweigh the long-term strategic value. Plus, selling royal lands sends a message that we're willing to trade our heritage for gold."
"Agreed," I decide. "We keep the territories. The minerals can be extracted by our own people, providing jobs and steady income without sacrificing sovereignty."
As we move through the other reports—successful trade agreements, abundant harvests, expanding diplomatic relationships—I feel the familiar weight of royal responsibility settling on my shoulders.
These decisions affect thousands of lives, shape the future of our kingdom, determine whether we prosper or struggle.
It's exactly the kind of focused, purposeful work that usually helps me forget my personal problems. Usually.
But today, even as we discuss trade routes and territorial management, part of my mind remains fixed on the woman sleeping in my bed just down the hall. The woman who responds to my touch like she was made for me, then runs away like I'm her worst nightmare.
"The binding ceremony preparations are progressing well," Noah mentions as we finish reviewing the financial reports. "All the major noble families have confirmed attendance, and the ceremony site is nearly ready."
The reminder makes my chest tighten. In just days, Aubrey and I will stand before the kingdom and pledge ourselves to each other for eternity. The thought should fill me with anticipation, with excitement for our future together.
Instead, all I feel is uncertainty. How can we bind ourselves permanently when she can barely stand to be in the same room as me? How can I promise her forever when she won't tell me what's wrong?
"Knox?" Astor's deep voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. "You alright?"
Before I can answer, a sharp knock interrupts us. A castle guard steps inside, his expression serious as he bows formally.
"Your Highness, the King requests your immediate presence in his study. He says it's regarding new information about the white wolf."
The white wolf. The mysterious corpse we discovered in the Ancient Heart, preserved by unknown magic and weeping blood tears. I'd almost forgotten about it in the chaos of ceremony preparations and my personal struggles with Aubrey.
But the grave expression on the guard's face suggests we shouldn't have.
"What kind of information?" I ask, already rising from my chair.
"I don't know, Your Highness. The King asked for you specifically, as well as your advisors if they were present."
I glance at Noah and Astor, seeing my own concern reflected in their faces. Whatever Dad has discovered about that cursed wolf, it's serious enough to interrupt royal business.
"We'll continue this later," I tell them, gathering the maps and ledgers with practiced efficiency. "Whatever this is about, I have a feeling our territory disputes are about to become the least of our problems."