Page 82 of The Wolf's Prince
“We’re almost there!” Nikolai enthused, practically sticking his head out the other window. Soren followed his gaze and trepidation overcame him.
His single visit to a human castle had left him wishing to never see another one. Now as the Casetro Royal family’s home came into view, obstructing everything else with its massive walls and reaching towers, he was faced with the sudden understanding of how far Nikolai’s life now was from what he had always known.
As they entered the large gate, and were taken over a sweeping cobbled stepped road toward the castle, Soren’s trepidation grew, and then were promptly washed away by the sight of a familiar, friendly face smiling at them from the steps.
Nikolai bounced excitedly as Andrey rushed down the steps to greet them. Behind him, the rest of Nikolai’s family stood, waiting to personally meet them the moment they arrived.
The moment the carriage slowed enough, Nikolai bounced out the door.
“Nik—”
Soren watched him go, shaking his head.
He waited for the carriage to stop before stepping outside. His first step on solid ground feltwobblywhich was odd, but he assumed it was from sitting in a shaking carriage for so long. Luckily it only lasted a couple of steps as he followed after Nikolai.
His mate was already hugging his family one by one, then was aggressively pulled into a headlock by the one who appeared to be the eldest while his wife shouted at him to stop.
Soren might have intervened if not for the fact that Andrey was giggling and the king and queen were approaching him.
“So, you’re the man who finally convinced my son to settle down,” the king said, dragging his gaze over him.
Soren nodded.
“It has been my honor to win him over,” he said sincerely. “And I must thank you for all your work in making him the man he is today; loyal, kind, loving and filled with honor.”
“Oh, well,” the queen giggled.
Nikolai watched him with pride from under his brother’s arm.
“Come inside dear, we have everything ready for you,” the queen said. She glanced behind them to the coachman. “Where are your bags?”
“We came as is,” Nikolai informed her, finally shaking free. “This is Vik and his wife Maya, by the way.”
Soren nodded to the other brother and his partner.
“It is lovely to meet you.”
He truly meant it. At once, seeing Nikolai with his family and immediately witnessing their dynamics firsthand helped to dispel some of the iciness he had felt upon seeing the castle.
That returned swiftly though when they were escorted to their own room, far removed from all life, it seemed.
During their stay at the Tasnian castle, the rooms for the shifters had been opulently decorated, but no larger than the dens they had on pack grounds.
This thought, was downright ridiculous. It was large enough to home more than one family, with a bed more than double the size of his own, a dinner area that could seat four, a huge bookcase all along one wall, a preposterously large walk in closet, paintings and fabrics that probably cost an arm and a leg and windows that overlooked the towns in the distance.
“Do you like my room?” Nikolai asked, sitting with a bounce atop the bed.
Soren turned and looked at him, slowly.
“This isyourroom?” he asked.
“Mm hm, this was my room growing up and all the way until… well, I guess until I went into heat.”
He blushed prettily, gaze dropping to the covers, and suddenly Soren could see him there, spread out over the soft mattress, tangled in all the sheets and pillows, sweating with the effort to ease it.
He was due for another one soon. It had almost been a month since Nikolai had appeared on the mountain, desperate for him. And although it already felt like so much longer, the moon didn’t lie. They had mated under the full moon and then they had run under the next one. Nikolai was going to be begging him for his knot any day now and Soren couldn’t wait to give it to him.
Slowly, he pulled his jacket down, over his shoulders and approached Nikolai, who was ready at once, his eyes darkening and knees spreading so that Soren could step right between them.
