Page 20 of King of Pride and Talons

Breya placed her hand in his, and he kissed it. Her sea-green eyes beamed at him. He ran his mouth along the ridges of her knuckles as he whispered.

“You're trembling."

That time, she did not lower her head. But her eyes averted him.

“I’m nervous. It's not every day a village girl walks into a room full of royalty."

Thorne straightened, still holding her hand in his. He raised it again to his lips, gave one final kiss, then turned to face two monstrous-sized double doors. Behind them, were all his guests murmuring with intrigue.

He stood erect and gazed down at Breya as he held out his arm.

“It’s not every day you are led by a king,” he said. "You are my mate, and you will be treated as such. Stay by my side, and all will be well."

Breya intertwined her arm with his and nestled against his elbow. As the two doors parted, the king’s heart was raging inside him. Through his shifter senses, he felt Breya’s too.

What was business as usual for Thorne must have been chaos for Breya. The event was magnificent and grandiose just the way the king had demanded. Meals were plentiful, and ornamentation sophisticated. They were greeted by some of the most influential socialites and members of royalty as they walked into the ballroom—with Queen Cassia being one of the first to offer her congratulations.

“Charmed,” she said, gracefully offering her hand to Breya, then Thorne’s. “I am thrilled to see that you have found your mate. It’s a wonderful time to celebrate."

He agreed and tried to get all of the chatter out of the way. It was his duty to please those who studied his every move closely, but also to pacify Cassia into steering clear of his mate. Since the occasion was intended to be an announcement of the next queen’s crowning, he and Breya arrived first on the dance floor, surrounded by the same observant and critical eyes.

But Thorne didn’t care. He had his mate in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

“Come. Put your hand on my chest like this."

The king settled his hand on her waist, then entangled her fingers with the other. Just as the lights dimmed and the band began, he peered down at the woman who was soon to be his bride.

Her hands were clammy, and her eyes were broad with dread.

“Everything is fine, Breya,” he said, flashing her his suave smile. “I will lead."

The violin’s bow stroked along the strings, and the harp strummed. Slowly, they began a simple waltz, romantic and mesmerizing.

But Thorne couldn’t take his focus off of Breya's obvious anxiety.

“This ball was unexpected," she said, swallowing hard. “I would have liked to receive more notice."

“Notice about what?”

“About all of it. Don’t you think it's a little presumptuous to announce to the entire world that I’m your mate and will be the next queen before I’ve made my decision to stay?"

Her tone was clipped, under-laced with hurt. Thorne felt the color drain from his face but continued dancing.

ELEVEN

BREYA

Interpreting the king's expressions often felt like trying to see through a brick wall. Beyond the smirk that she had grown affectionate of, Thorne was a lot like a closed book. Breya was a skilled and intuitive witch, but even she could only see so far.

His face had flattened at her proclamation of potential departure like someone had smacked him with a frying pan.

“You can’t leave,” he muttered under his breath, still expertly twirling her in a stylish waltz. “You are my mate, Breya. All of this is for you.”

“I didn’t ask for any of it,” she replied, thinning out her lips and balling her fist over his chest. “I did say that I would stay, but I meant for the night. Or maybe even a few nights. But I didn’t mean forever. You made that assumption."

The music was making an upward climb. The violinists stroked vehemently while the harp players' fingers jolted with agile craftsmanship. Breya was thankful when they continued dancing around the room at the same pace.

His eyes, that glimmering blueish silver, appeared to harden. Breya hadn't seen him angry yet, but she guessed the time was approaching. She would meet it equally though, a tornado colliding with a volcano.

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