Page 65 of Asking Fur Trouble

“I thought you weremyboring paper-pusher,” he corrected, his voice dropping to that register that caused her heart to race. Through their bond, she felt the primal satisfaction of the bear within him—pleased that his mate understood her worth now and wasn’t afraid to claim it.

The royal announcer tapped his staff three times, calling for attention. “King Charov and Queen Bess will now lead the first dance.”

Charov swept her onto the dance floor with unexpected grace, his massive frame moving with fluid precision. Music swelled around them—a Nova Auroran melody that seemed to sync with the pulse of their mate bond.

“Nervous?” he asked, his eyes darkening as he pulled her closer than royal protocol likely allowed.

“Terrified,” she admitted, feeling hundreds of eyes upon them. “Everyone’s staring.”

“At you,” he affirmed, spinning her in a move that made her wedding gown flare like captured starlight. “My beautiful queen.” His hand dipped slightly lower on her back, just skirting the edge of propriety. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep my hands honorably placed right now?”

Heat pooled in her belly. “Behave. We have hours of this reception ahead of us.”

“Hours,” he growled, the word a complaint. He leaned closer, his breath blazing hot against her ear. “When all I want is to take you to our chambers and show you exactly what being mated forever to a bear king means.”

A jolt of desire shot through her so intense that she missed a step, and he steadied her with a knowing smirk.

Their first dance soon ended, and the ballroom filled with applause, but all she could hear was his whispered promise in her ear:

“Our adventure begins now. And it will never end.”

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