Page 23 of Lycan Prey
“Max, I…” My voice trails off trying to come up with an excuse. It’s clear his father doesn’t want me around his son, and why would he? I am a stranger after all and trying to deceive the King. But Max’s hopeful gaze tugs at something deep within me, a maternal instinct I didn’t know existed, mingling with an undeniable pull toward his father that’s both reckless and irresistible.
“At least let me drive you home,” King Soren says, stepping closer, his presence enveloping me. His words, laced with genuine kindness, send a jolt through my veins. The scent of him—a mix of pine and power—fills my senses, and for a moment, I’m lost in the deep blue of his eyes.
“Your Highness, I… that isn’t necessary,” I falter again.
I should say no. I should turn away from his offer, from his son’s pleading eyes, from the allure of this man who is so much more than a simple man. But the wolf inside me howls in protest, craving his nearness, while the woman fears the inevitable fall into his orbit and the destruction he can cause if he figures out I’m lying to him.
“Please, Brielle,” Max’s voice breaks through my reverie, a small hand reaching for mine. “It’ll be fun!”
“Sweetheart,” I start, my voice quivering, “it’s not that simple.” I gaze up at King Soren, seeking mercy in his gaze, pleading silently for him to tell his son no for me.
“I don’t mind,” the King adds, though I believe mainly because he is busy and wanting to leave.
I hesitate, caught in the crossfire of their expectant stares. The offer is kindness itself, however, danger lurks beneath the surface. If I accept, I’ll be confined with him, alone with the questions I fear, the urges I must suppress, the secrets I desperately need to keep.
“It’s fine, it’s not that far,” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Let me drive you home,” King Soren insists again, his voice commanding yet laced with an unexpected kindness. “It’s the least I can do after you’ve looked after my son.”
Max beams up at me, his little hand reaching out as if he can pull me into their world with nothing except his will. “See, Brielle. Then you can check on Grandma and come to the castle. We can finally play!” His excitement is contagious, his innocence a balm to my frayed edges.
The thought of being alone with the King, confined within the steel walls of his car, sends a shiver down my spine.
However, it isn’t just fear that stirs within me—it’s a longing, a yearning for something I cannot have, something as forbidden and alluring as the moon’s call to my wolfen soul.
“So?” King Soren’s deep voice pulls me from the tempest of my thoughts, and I find myself locking eyes with him—those piercing blue depths that unsettle me in ways I don’t want to admit.
“Fine,” I murmur, my lips pressing into a tight line. It’s a reluctant surrender to Max’s hopeful gaze, one that might buy his father a moment’s peace. The boy’s energy is electric, his tiny feet barely touching the floor as he hops toward the door, a whirlwind of youthful exuberance, and I rise giving in to the child.
“Thank you, I know he can sometimes be a handful.” King Soren’s words carry a weight, an acknowledgment that seems to see right through me.
I shake my head, brushing off his gratitude with a flicker of a smile, “I find him sweet, he’s a breath of fresh air,” I tell him, and it’s true. Max reminds me of the innocence I once had before life got its hands on me.
Chapter 11
• King Soren •
Throughout the entire drive to Brielle’s house, I can’t stop thinking about my son’s bizarre behavior and how taken he is with her. I find myself questioning her about her grandma, her time in town, and her plans for the future. The road is ribbon-like in the darkness, and the only sound is the soft purr of the car’s engine.
“So, your grandma is sick?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, she’s been unwell for some time now,” Brielle replies, her voice heavy with concern.
I nod, studying her profile in the dim light. She looks tired, lines etched into her forehead and shadows under her eyes. I wonder how much of it is due to her grandmother’s illness.
“How long have you been in town?”
“Not long, Your Highness.”
“And do you intend to stay here for a while?”
Brielle hesitates before answering, “Yes, for as long as I’m needed.”
Her answer leaves me with a sense of unease, as if she knows something I don’t.
“What did you do before moving here?”
“I…uh…worked at various places, mostly in the service industry.”
