Page 27 of Settle Down, Princess

We.

She stood there on the riverbank, white-faced, with tears running down her cheeks. Her teeth chattered like a guard’s might when sitting watch on the parapets in the depths of winter.

“Oh, lass…”

Big eyes flicked to meet mine. Hers were wide and glassy with shock. She rushed towards me as I waded out of the river, her arms slapping around me the moment I got close.

And I wrapped her in mine.

Gods’ balls, there was nothing like the feeling of a sweet little woman pressed against your body after you’ve just emerged victorious from a fight. I felt a flash of guilt then, at taking pleasure when she was feeling so vulnerable. She wasn’t some tavern wench clinging to my side because I’d just won a bare-knuckle fight.

Jessalyn was a princess.

And I had to treat her like one, which meant I needed to get her back to camp and away from any other danger that might lurk in the bushes. Catamounts didn’t hunt in packs, but wolves did. Of course, that was the only reason I scooped her up into my arms, cradling her body against mine, which served to remind me that the girl barely weighed a thing. It had nothing to do with the fact that there was a special kind of pleasure to be gained from carrying a wet, naked, terrified princess away from danger rather than towards it.

“Roan…”

Her whimper was a knife being plunged into my heart, hurting far more than the cat’s filthy scratches. My little sisters would make the same sound when they appeared at my bedside in the middle of the night, complaining of nightmares. I used to put myself on top of the blankets, then roll them up tight in mine and promise I’d watch over them to ensure no monsters rose up from under the bed.

“You’re all right, lass,” I said over and over in low soothing tones, walking along the track with my eyes trained on our surroundings to make sure more wildlife didn’t make a liar of me. When we arrived back at the clearing, Creed tossed his bundle of firewood to the ground as he ran over, his eyes almost yellow as his wolf pushed him hard.

“What happened?” he snapped, searching my face, then Jessalyn’s. “What the hell happened?”

“Catamount—” I started to say.

“Is it dead?” I saw Creed’s fangs flash in the red light of sunset. “Is it?”

“Go see for yourself,” I said with a frown.

He was a fucking prick for doubting me, even for a second.

But he didn’t head down the track. He moved towards Jessalyn, snatching his hands back when he saw she was naked, although not for long. The wolf might want to tear my head off right now, but the man was a different story. Creed was a good healer and he responded when he saw someone in pain. He used light touches to assure himself she was whole, ignoring the fact my chest had been slashed open.

“What the hell happened?” Arik asked, approaching us at a jog.

“She was attacked is what happened,” Creed snapped, as if he had been the one there. “And you won’t be sending me off to collect firewood next time. I should’ve been there! It should’ve been me guarding her!”

His hand shook as he reached up to smooth her hair away from her face. I’d seen the man maintain iron control as he shoved a bloke’s guts back into his stomach and then stitched him up. This was what it took to unman him? He didn’t seem worried about how any of us might react, instead he stared at the princess the entire time he assessed her. Once he was convinced she wasn’t harmed, he reached out to take her from me.

“No… No!” Oh, I liked that: the moment her grip tightened to hold onto me rather than go to another man. Jessalyn clung to me like a limpet before burying her face in my shoulder. “No.” Her last dismissal was muffled by my chest, and Creed just shook his head.

“I’ll make you some tea that will settle your nerves. You’ll feel better after that.”

While Creed had been peppering me with questions, Silas had drawn close to take in the details of what happened. A frown had appeared on his face, then he’d turned and marched over to his horse. But Arik? He watched the proceedings with a stony expression that made clear he wasn’t going to show anything he might be feeling.

“Settle her down on a bedroll,” Silas instructed, flicking out one of the mattresses we kept rolled up on the backs of our horses.

“No…”

Jessalyn’s voice was a ghost of itself—all imperiousness gone—making it clear that we weren’t dealing with the princess, but, rather, the woman.

“You’re all right,” I said, settling down on the mattress but not letting her go for a second. I’m not sure if I could’ve, even at a direct order. She was starting to warm up. She had to be, that was the only explanation of the sudden warmth in my chest. “I’ll not leave you. I’m right here. I’ll be here for you.”

These were nonsense words. They were promises I had no right making. I wasn’t her protector. I was her fucking jailor, but I needed her to feel safe. Creed returned with a mug brimming with hot tea, the aroma letting me know it was the herbal brew he used for insomnia or nerves. Jessalyn eyed the tea, the man, and then the entire camp suspiciously, as if everything threatened to leap forward to bite her. She shook her head then shrank back against me, and Creed stifled a growl when I took the mug from him instead. For shifters, preparing food and drink for their mates has special significance.

He was offering her something he’d made from his own hand. It may as well have been his still-beating heart he was holding out, but she wasn’t having it. I brought the mug to my lips and had a sip, and the astringent taste of the tea instantly made my muscles loosen.

And reminded me of the pain of the cat scratches.

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