Page 81 of Settle Down, Princess

Of course he did. As his lips touched mine, my mother’s voice rang in my head—all her warnings shouldering forward, unbidden and unwanted—about what happened to girls who allowed themselves to walk around unchaperoned. I hated her then, hated my family, my entire culture, because instead of melting into this man’s kiss, my whole body tensed—including my lips.

To my horror, our kiss became this awkward bounce of my mouth against his. All the good feelings of the night fled as my cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment. I could not call myself a particularly experienced kisser, but even I knew this was terrible. Jorah stopped, lifted his head, and stared at me in incomprehension. I let out a hasty little laugh.

“Jorah, I’m so sorry.”

Words rose in my head, a frantic avalanche of them tumbling all over themselves. I was ready to explain, to give context, to make clear it wasn’t him, but then his thumb brushed against my cheek.

“Take a breath.”

His deep voice rumbled all the way through me, and I forced my lungs to expand, despite wanting to ask why he told me to do it. His answer came quickly enough. When I exhaled, he bent his head again, pressing his mouth to mine.

It immediately became clear to me that by kissing me for the first time when I was out of my mind on roseblood, Arik and the others had robbed me of part of the experience. I hadn’t been aware enough to know if any of them had drawn in a breath through their nose at the feel of my mouth on theirs. I didn’t remember the prickle of their stubble or their beards against my skin, scoring me, marking me as their lips turned soft as butter. I hadn’t felt like I was melting into them as I did while Jorah continued to kiss me so that I had to run my hands up his leather breastplate and hold on. My bones became mush, my flesh fire, as the kiss went on and on. It was only a rumbling growl that finally forced us apart. When I moved my head to where the noise had come from, my eyes widened.

The only time I’d ever seen a wolf was the one that had been stuffed and preserved by one of my ancestors many years ago. The poor moth-eaten thing still kept guard over one of the rarely used drawing rooms. The beast that stood growling at us seemed far, far larger than the worn old one at home. My feet moved of their own accord, responding to an instinct to get the hell away from it. Its lips were peeled back from its jaws, and its fangs flashed in the night air as Jorah shoved me behind him.

“Now, Creed…”

Creed? I twisted myself sideways to look past Jorah to look at the wolf far more closely. I saw no hint of the man in the beast, except for those eyes. The wolf stopped snarling the moment our gazes locked. A small whine escaped his chest and his paws shifted on the ground, his tail wagging once, twice. Then Jorah angled his head in my direction.

“Tell him you choose me.” His words came out in a messy, hurried tumble as he spoke, not taking his eyes off Creed’s wolf for a second. “Tell him I’m the one you want.”

I knew I needed to. Creed’s wolf had rallied and looked twice as angry as before. He took one ponderous step after another towards Jorah as he growled his intent. But as I looked back up at Jorah, I couldn’t help but let my fingers brush my lips and the slightly bruised place in the middle of my bottom lip.

“I…”

Jorah’s eyes flicked away from Creed for a moment to look in my direction. A furrow appeared between his brows as he watched me.

“So, he is your fated mate.”

He seemed spectacularly surprised by this, especially when I simply stared at him. When his words sank in, though, I shook my head sharply.

“No.” Jorah had already started to back away, but I took a step toward him. “No, Jorah, I can’t stand him or his bloody pack.”

That was when the wolf sat down abruptly, letting out a thin whine and drawing my attention back to him. Big, beautiful pale-yellow eyes stared at me mournfully. The wolf’s paw rose, raking through the air, as if he was begging for attention. Gods damn it all, he looked like a big puppy, and I’d always wanted a dog. My fingers ached with the effort of holding myself back from patting Creed’s wolf, but I pulled my focus back to Jorah.

“I don’t want him. I can’t stand any of them. I never wanted this title of being his fated mate. My very soul rejects the idea.”

“Reject…” Something seemed to come to light in Jorah’s eyes. “You intend to reject him?”

“Well, yes—”

“Do you know what that means?” I didn’t, but it appeared I was making progress because Jorah was walking back towards me, only stopping because the wolf began to growl again. “If you reject the bond formally, you’ll…” Jorah paused and frowned. “You’ll never be able to be together ever again.”

“Promise?”

I smiled, as much to mask a pang of emotion I didn’t quite understand as to try and rebuild the fragile connection between us. However, as his words sank in, the cogs in my brain started whir.

“I swear,” Jorah said. “If they’ve declared to the alphas that you’re their fated mate, then you’ll be forced to participate in the mating games.” He was edging away from me again, but this time I made no attempt to stop him. His mouth was useful for the information he shared, not for kisses. “They’ll be forced to try and persuade you to accept the bond. And, while it’s true you are not required to, it’s been a long, long time since a woman rejected her mates.”

“And what is the process?” Creed’s wolf trotted forward, coming to stand in the gap between Jorah and I, but I ignored him. “What do I need to do to reject them all?”

“Participate in the games,” Jorah said, “then at the end, when it comes time to accept or reject them, you’ll say the words.”

He told me the exact phrasing I’d need to use, and I whispered the words to myself. I liked the feel of them in my mouth, the weight of them. There was a power in them, one I intended to wield.

“I cannot take things any further,” Jorah told me. “No male will until you’ve decided one way or the other whether to accept Creed and his pack as your mates.”

So I wasn’t Jess after all. Jessalyn had no ability to make decisions in her day-to-day life. Jessalyn had circumstances forced upon her and had to try to deal with them with grace. I positioned on my face the perfectly polite smile my mother had urged me to master, the one that masked every single thing I felt.

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