Page 24 of Asking Fur Trouble

“Oberon, change of plans.” His voice brooked no argument. “Take us back to the castle now.”

Upon arriving, Charov escorted Bess to her chambers. She touched his arm gently, sending electricity through his skin.

“I’d like to freshen up first. Give me ten minutes?”

“Take whatever time you need.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, unable to resist the contact. “You don’t need to change a thing to impress my father—you’ve already impressed his son.”

The flush that spread across her face sent his bear into a frenzy of possession. He forced himself to step back before he gave in to the urge to claim her lips right there.

Charov soon strode through the royal wing toward his father’s royal chambers. He nodded curtly to the guards who snapped to attention. Dr. Morran stood reviewing charts outside the king’s room.

“Tell me the truth,” Charov demanded without preamble.

Dr. Morran’s face fell. “Your Highness?—”

“He sounds better. He feels better. Explain.”

The doctor’s eyes held the compassion Charov had come to dread. “It’s called terminal lucidity, Your Highness. A surge of clarity and energy that sometimes comes before...” The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s not a sign of recovery. If anything, it often signals the final decline.”

Charov’s jaw clenched, defiance rising in him. “You’ve been wrong before.”

“Your father’s illness has spread to his bloodstream. It’s resistant to all our treatments.” Dr. Morran’s voice was gentle but unflinching. “I’m sorry, but I recommend you cherish this time with him.”

Charov turned away, unwilling to let anyone see the emotions warring on his face. He was about to argue when movement caught his eye. Bess glided toward them down the corridor, and his breath caught in his chest.

She had changed into a Nova Auroran dress of deep emerald that matched her eyes, the fabric flowing around her curves like water. Her hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, and she had applied a subtle shimmer to her skin that caught the light.

She was magnificent—regal without trying, powerful in her quiet confidence. His mate. His queen.

His bear roared its approval, drowning out the doctor’s grim warnings and his own fears. In this moment, introducing Bess to his father was all that mattered. Tomorrow’s grief could wait for tomorrow.

FIFTEEN

Bess walked toward Charov down the royal wing corridor, her heart fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird. The Nova Auroran dress she had chosen—a deep emerald that matched her eyes—whispered against her curves. She had let her hair down in loose waves and applied a shimmery powder, along with other makeup in her bathroom, to her skin that gave her an otherworldly glow.

Charov’s eyes darkened when he saw her, his posture shifting from tense discussion with the royal doctor to something more primal. He dismissed the doctor with a curt nod and moved toward her with fluid grace.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, taking her hand in his. His thumb traced circles on her palm, sending shivers up her arm. “My father is eager to meet you.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint,” Bess whispered, suddenly nervous. Meeting the king of an alien territory hadn’t exactly been on her agenda when she’d woken up on Earth days ago.

“Impossible.” Charov’s voice dropped lower, the rumble in his chest almost like a purr. His eyes traced her figure appreciatively. “He’ll adore you as much as—” He stopped himself, clearing his throat. “This way.”

Charov pushed open the ornate double doors, keeping her hand firmly in his as they entered the royal chambers. The room was vast yet intimate with tall windows letting in streams of golden light that played across the massive four-poster bed where King Sawyr reclined against a mountain of pillows.

Despite his obvious illness—the pallor beneath his skin, the thinness of his once-powerful frame—there was an undeniable regality to him. Queen Zyre sat at his bedside, her elegant fingers intertwined with his.

“Father,” Charov announced, his voice softening with affection, “may I present Bess Campos of Earth.”

King Sawyr’s eyes—the same striking blue as his son’s—lit up. “So, this is the woman who has my son jumping from aircraft again.”

Bess felt her cheeks warm. “It was my first time skydiving, Your Majesty. I hope I didn’t encourage any royal misbehavior.”

The king’s laughter transformed his face, years falling away in an instant. “Oh, I like this one, Charov.”

“As do I,” Charov replied, his hand moving to the small of Bess’s back, steady and possessive.

Queen Zyre smiled knowingly. “Come closer, dear. My husband has been pestering me with questions about you since we heard of your arrival.”

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