Page 38 of Asking Fur Trouble

Bess felt heat rise to her face. “I was just thinking about something Emesyn mentioned while getting ready for the ball—about the kingdom needing stability.”

Charov’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Everyone has opinions about what the kingdom needs.”

TWENTY-FIVE

“But you said no more secrets between us, yet...” Bess trailed off, not wanting to sound demanding.

Charov shifted, turning his body toward her, one arm stretched along the back of the seat. The posture was casual, but there was nothing casual about the sheer intensity in his eyes.

“Yet what, Bess?” There was a challenge in his tone.

“Yet I don’t know where I stand,” she admitted. “You call me your future queen, but is that happening next week? Next year? Never?”

His eyes flashed, something primal and possessive darkening his gaze. “You think I’d let you go now?”

The air between them thickened. Bess felt her heart quicken, but she held her ground. “I think you’re holding something back.”

Charov leaned closer, his scent—woodsy and wild—enveloping her. “Tonight isn’t about royal agendas or kingdom politics. Tonight is about us.” His hand slid to her neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at her nape. “About showing everyone that the woman who stands beside me is the one I’ve chosen.”

Bess felt the weight of those words and simply nodded, deciding to shelve her concerns for the night. He was right—this evening was meant for them to enjoy each other, not worry about royal succession timelines.

“I want to see you have fun tonight,” she said, reaching up to touch his face. “I’ve missed the fun-loving prince who took me skydiving.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Charov’s face. “He still exists. And tonight, he might just steal you away from the ball for something more... adventurous.”

The promise in his words made her heart race. “Don’t tempt me.”

Charov’s laugh was rich and genuine—the first real laugh she had heard from him in days.

The moment they stepped into the Nuele’s grand ballroom, Bess felt every eye turn their way. The opulent space shimmered with crystalline chandeliers that cast rainbow prisms across marble floors and gilded walls. Musicians played melodic tunes from a raised platform while Nova Aurora’s elite swirled across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of color and movement.

Bess squeezed Charov’s arm, suddenly painfully aware of her Earth origins among these elegant aliens. As they descended the grand staircase, she caught snippets of whispered conversations.

“Quite the oversight, wasn’t it? The king missing the formal dinner...”

“...heard it was the human’s fault. Can’t keep a proper schedule...”

“What does he see in her anyway? She’s not even from our world...”

Bess stiffened, but Charov’s hand covered hers, his grip reassuring and possessive.

“Ignore them,” he murmured against her ear, his breath warm against her neck. “They’re jealous of what they can never have.”

Kynon and Nya approached with practiced smiles. Nya, tall and willowy with silver-blonde hair, embraced Bess with artificial warmth.

“We’re so pleased you could join us for at least part of the evening,” Nya said sweetly, her eyes flickering with something that made Bess’s skin crawl. “Though we did miss you at the dinner. Such a pity about the invitation.”

Bess met the woman’s gaze directly. “Yes, quite strange how that happened. I’m usually so careful with the king’s correspondence.”

“These things happen,” Kynon interjected smoothly, but Bess caught the calculated look he exchanged with his wife. “What matters is that you’re here now.”

Charov’s arm slid around Bess’s waist, drawing her closer to his side. The heat of his body seeped through the fabric of her gown. “If you’ll excuse us, I believe I owe my future queen a dance.”

Without waiting for a response, Charov led Bess onto the dance floor. His hand positioned possessively across her lower back, his fingers pressing into the curve just above her backside.

“That was interesting,” Bess murmured as he swept her into the steps of a dance she didn’t know but somehow followed. “I’m starting to think there was never an invitation.”

Charov’s blue eyes darkened. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

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