Page 48 of Lycan Prey
The tension in the room is palpable as we step into his lavish quarters. King Soren’s accommodations are homely, unlike the stark and colder impression I get from the rest of the castle. Elegant pieces of art hang on the walls, a grand piano sitsin one corner, and books are scattered around in a disorderly fashion.
It’s nothing like the opulent chambers one would expect from a King. Instead, it’s merely comfortable and has a lived-in vibe. A few of Max’s toys are also scattered in the room, and I know Max has a habit of sneaking into his father’s bed at night when he has nightmares.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he quickly rushes around his room, trying to clean up the mess. He seems flustered, embarrassed even. “Sorry, I rarely let the maids in here; I don’t like them in my personal space,” he mutters, scooping up toys.
“It’s fine,” I wave him off, peering around his room. It makes me wonder how uncomfortable I will make him in it.
I walk over to a nearby window and stare out at the expansive grounds of the castle. The moonlight seems to highlight the quiet serenity outside, while inside, my mind is in a frenzy. Soren moves toward the huge double door off to the side, which I realize is a walk-in closet that is as big as the room I was staying in.
“I’ll make space for your stuff,” Soren says, entering his closet, which is already filled to the brim with his clothes.
“Thanks,” I say as he disappears farther into the closet. I take that as an opportunity to explore his quarters more closely. His room is a warm sanctuary, lit with a soft glow from the scattered lamps, and despite everything, I feel a sense of comfort. The sound of hangers scraping against metal as Soren tries to make room for my clothes is loud in the quiet space.
I spot a photo frame on his bedside table. It’s a picture of him and Max, both of them grinning widely at the camera. His arm is wrapped around Max’s shoulders, and he holds the boy close to his side.
I smile at the sight. Despite everything, Soren is a remarkable father, always ensuring Max feels loved and protected. I touch the frame lightly, tracing the contours of their faces.
Footsteps approach and I quickly pull my hand back. All around me are the little details that make the King who he is – a man of power, yes, but also a man with a gentle heart that continues to surprise me. The room feels like him – strong yet sensitive, rugged yet refined.
“Are there any specific items you need?” his voice echoes from the closet.
“Just my pajamas and toiletries for now,” I reply, turning around. He has an armful of clothes, and he dumps them in a basket before turning to look at me. I take a second to really look at him. His hair is more tousled than usual, and his eyes hold an unspoken tension that wasn’t there before—proof this situation is affecting him just as much as it is me.
There’s an awkward silence between us, fraught with uncertainty and something else — something deeper and far more intimate. It’s then Soren’s eyes wander to the king-sized bed at the center of the room, and he swallows visibly before muttering, “We have to figure out sleeping arrangements.”
I choke on my own spit at this statement.
“We need to figure out sleeping arrangements?” I echo incredulously.
“Well,” he begins cautiously, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, we don’t have to share the bed if you don’t want to.”
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” I point out flatly. He looks taken aback by my defensive tone.
“I wasn’t suggesting you should,” he replies quickly, raising his hands defensively. “We also can’t just ignore the factthere’s only one bed and—” he stumbles over his words, looking anywhere but at me.
“Right.” I’ve made him uncomfortable. For all his bravado and status, Soren is still a gentleman at heart, and I understand his unease.
Exhaling a tense breath, I walk over to the bed and gingerly sit on the edge. The mattress dips under my weight, and the soft comforter crinkles beneath me.
“We’re adults, Soren,” I say finally, breaking the awkward silence.
“I…we could…I could get another bed; there’s room in here,” Soren stutters, his eyes darting around the room as he suggests this. There’s a panicked look in his eyes, one I’ve never seen before.
“You’re saying we can’t share a bed?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. Is that what he means? That he is happy for me to lie for him and play along with him touching and kissing on me around people and can’t share the bed? The thought stings more than I admit.
“That’s not what I meant, Bree.” His voice is gentle, but there’s a hint of frustration behind his words. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
I scoff.“Nothing about this entire situation is comfortable. I’m sure we can share the bed. It’s just a bed.”
I can see a sense of relief come over him—eyes softening, shoulders visibly relaxing. He lets out a short laugh—a mixture of disbelief and amusement—raking his fingers through his hair.
“You’re right,” he concedes with a nod, “We’re adults.”
“Be like a sleepover,” I offer, and he snorts.
“Yeah, a sleepover.” The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a small smile. For a while, we just stand here, staring at each other, caught in this bizarre limbo between our past and whatever this is turning into.
He eventually lets out a soft cough. “I’ll go get your toiletries.”
