Page 25 of Lycan Prey
Chapter 12
• Aubrey •
A week later
The café bustles with its usual morning crowd as I navigate between the tables, delivering steaming cups of coffee and plates of fresh pastries along with freshly made sandwiches. The bell above the door chimes repeatedly, signaling the arrival of new customers.
The café is alive with people, a constant rush of faces coming and going. The walls are adorned with colorful artwork and the tables are filled with steaming food and drinks. Among the hustle and bustle, a young boy stands out, his familiar face scanning the room until his eyes meet mine. As he approaches, I can see the remnants of dirt and grass on his clothing, evidence of his recent escapade. His cheeks are slightly flushed from running.
I sigh heavily knowing what this means already. He has snuck out again! I swear he is trying to get me caught. Max stands out in the busy café, his short dark hair sticking up in all directions and a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes. He wears a plaid shirt and his shoelaces are untied. Max’s footsteps are light and quick as he weaves through the tables, the chatter and clattering of dishes and cutlery surrounding him. He greets me with a mischievous giggle, and I can hear the faint sound.
“Max, you shouldn’t be here, where is your father? Does he know you’ve snuck off again?” I ask him. Great, this means his father will come looking for him again.
Max grins wider. “Ah, don’t worry about him. He doesn’t know I’m here. I can handle my dad. Besides, he didn’t seem that mad yesterday when I snuck out and came here.” This boy is becoming a thorn in his father’s side. Every day Max sneaks out, Marianne needs to start charging him rent. He frequents this place so much.
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Max blushes under my scrutinizing gaze, and I fold my arms across my chest and purse my lips.
“Really, because your father looked pretty mad yesterday, and the day before,” I tell him, a little of my nervousness making a return.
Max’s visits are starting to draw too much attention to me, and I know King Soren and his guard are watching me closely now. Max smiles cheekily. “Well, if he wanted me to stay at home, his men should be on better guard.”
“Or maybe you should stop trying to put your father in an early grave by giving him a heart attack.”
The boy bites his lip.
“Have you anything to say for yourself?” I ask him and he flutters his dark lashes at me giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “Dad is immortal, he can’t have a heart attack.” he states confidently.
“Well there is always a first time, and you are really testing that, my boy.”
“Did Marianne make more chocolate chip cookies?”
I roll my eyes and smile.
“I thought you were visiting me; turns out you’re just here for cookies. I’m sure we can organize them to be delivered if it helps your little royal pain in my butt,” I tell him.
“At least I am a cute pain in the butt.” he replies swiftly and I laugh, messing his hair.
“Yes, luckily for you. Now go get your seat.”
I know his father will be by as soon as he realizes he is gone again! I shake my head about to retrieve his cookie when I hear the sound of tires screeching outside. I peek at Marianne behind the counter who glances at the window. The King keeps showing up here and she may just fire me for the annoyance. She only has a silly smile on her face, though, when she peeks at Max then out the windows.
Dark SUVs pull up to the curb in front of the café, the doors of several open with urgency, as guards storm out of cars, drawing my attention. One grips the door handle, it rattles as it swings open and the bells above the door ring loudly. As I turn around from delivering another plate of food, I catch sight of King Soren stalking into the café accompanied by several guards.
The tall, imposing figure of King Soren enters, his broad shoulders fill the space as he strides confidently toward the counter. He is flanked by several guards, their serious expressions and bulging muscles adding to the intimidating presence of the King. Before he reaches the counter he spots Max.
“There you are,” he growls and the room falls silent. His face immediately softens as if relieved Max is okay. At this point, it’s obvious he knows where Max escapes to daily, and his frustration is evident. His deep black hair is tousled as if he had run his fingers through it all morning, and blue eyes pin me where I stand, his muscles bulging under his form-fitting suit.
I’m like a deer caught in headlights each time he comes to collect his son. I worry he will eventually learn who I am and send me back to Rhett. I shudder at the thought.
“I see my son has taken a liking to this place,” he remarks dryly, his eyes not leaving mine.
I stand straighter, shaking off my horror, brushing off my apron. “He’s a good kid. But I think your nanny might be having a challenging time keeping up with him.”
Soren sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Seems like it. Would you…” he hesitates, “would you consider being Max’s nanny?”
Damian, his guard, clears his throat nervously behind him, his hard-set gaze directed at me. Damian stands just a few inches shorter than the King, his broad shoulders and tense posture showing his strength and readiness to protect. His closely cropped hair is a deep brown, and his sharp features are set in a serious expression. Those dark eyes bore into me, unflinching and intense making me want to shrink away from him.
“Sir, we hardly know the girl,” he mutters.
