Chapter 19

Raven

“I have no interest in you whatsoever.”

Those words should have been a relief. In their own way, they were a promise—a promise that, once this whole ordeal was over, we would break our bond and I would return home unscathed with nothing tying me to the barbaric Lycan world.

And yet… I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

I shouldn’t have cared that the Lycan prince wasn’t into me. He was engaged, first and foremost. And even if he wasn’t, he was rude, abrasive, and from an entirely different world than me. He’d executed someone, for Goddess’ sake.

But he was also handsome. And full of surprises. And when we’d kissed, he had tasted so sweet, with lips that were softer and fuller than they seemed.

I told myself that my attraction to him was purely physical, that it was an instinct driven by his appearance and our mate bond and nothing more.

Still, I sank down into the water and sulked for a little while after that. I found myself stealing glances at him across the cave, where he was lounging in his own pool with his sinewy arms spread out on the rocks behind him.

My wolf wanted to go to him, and images sprang to mind, unbidden. I wondered what it would be like if I marched over there and jumped into that pool with him, fully nude, and told him that I wanted a repeat of that kiss we had shared the other night.

He’d probably just tell me to leave, I thought bitterly.

As if sensing my stare, Neil lolled his head back, looking at me curiously over his shoulder.

“I thought you said no peeking,” he drawled.

Embarrassed and maybe a little annoyed, I snapped my gaze away from that handsome face and furiously scrubbed my skin under the water.

…

The next morning, I awoke on time for my training. I was even a little early—I was so refreshed from those hot springs that I’d been eager to get out of bed, and my muscles already felt leaps and bounds better.

But I trained archery with Ember that day. And I wasn’t sure if she’d gotten wind of my recovery or what, but she was brutal.

“Are you stupid or something?” Ember stomped over to the pile of arrows strewn around the training dummy—none of them having hit the target, or even come close to it—and whipped them up off the ground.

I frowned, clutching the bow in my hand. “I’m doing my best.”

“Yes, well… Your best is not good enough. You shoot like you’ve just fallen out of your mother’s overly loose womb.”

Angry, I said something vulgar about her own mother, and the session devolved into chaos after that. Ember, rather than laughing at my attitude like Castor or even Eric might, just punished me with drills.

By the time I’d finished doing my fiftieth pushup, tears were clinging to my cheeks and I felt like I might throw up.

Ember merely huffed and threw my bow in front of me. “Now try again. And this time, try to hit the target or it will be you who is taking the place of the training dummy.”

I frowned and pushed myself up on trembling arms. “Why are you so cruel to me?”

The guard’s eyebrows shot up. “Cruel? This is just training. If you cannot handle it, then that’s on you.”

“No,” I said, managing to climb to my feet. “You’re going way harder on me than Eric and Castor. You’ve clearly had a problem with me since the beginning but you seem to be in even worse of a mood today. Did I do something to offend you?”

“Offend me?” Ember scoffed and snatched my training bow up. She fired an arrow at the dummy, hitting it square in the head with ease. “I’m not ‘offended’. But maybe you should think about how your fussiness has resulted in our Prince getting injured.”

I blinked at that, then recalled last night—the play fighting in the hot springs. Had Ember heard about that? But Neil hadn’t been hurt, or so it seemed.

“We were just—”

“You insist on pampering yourself like a princess,” Ember continued, firing another arrow into the dummy. “Prince Neil finally got sick of your whining and went after that rogue group that used to hang around the hot springs. And he got injured during the fight. Thanks to you.”

My eyes widened. “He… He never mentioned that,” I whispered. When I’d said that I didn’t know the hot springs were so close, he had just grunted and undressed himself. “Did he… kill rogues for me?”

Ember nodded as she nocked another arrow. “He likely did not tell you because your Werewolf stomach cannot handle it.” The arrow whizzed and struck the first arrow straight down the shaft, splitting it cleanly before burrowing into the dummy’s head.

I swallowed hard. Rogues—those who didn’t align with pack values and split off on their own—were common in Werewolf territory, too. Usually, they were criminals; mobsters, petty criminals, killers. When caught, they’d be sent to prison, and would hopefully be rehabilitated into civilized society by the time they were released.

But here…

I thought back on the blood on Neil’s chest, the blood that wasn’t his own.

“What happened to him?” I asked, pulling my shoulders back. “During the fight, I mean.”

Ember glanced at me over her shoulder as she drew the bow again, this time aiming at the dummy’s torso. “He injured his leg.”

“I didn’t see any injuries last night,” I remarked.

The guard’s eyes widened momentarily—as if the thought of me seeing him undressed hurt her, but she quickly hid it. “Our Prince is strong,” she finally said. “Even fighting off a band of rogues all on his own, he might not walk away with surface wounds—just a twisted ankle.”

She lowered the bow then, along with her voice. “But he still put himself in danger for you and your… frivolous nature.”

I bit back the urge to say something rude and simply turned away, grabbing another training bow from the rack. Neil had put himself in danger for me. He had trudged through the woods, even carrying me at one point, with a sprained ankle for me.

He had killed… for me.

And he hadn’t uttered a word of it.

This time, when I nocked my arrow and drew the bow, I hit the training dummy right in the center of the chest.

…

That night, I wanted to do something nice for Neil. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Ember had told me, so I decided it was only fair to return the favor. Neil seemed to have enjoyed the grilled fish I’d made, although he didn’t finish his portion, so I caught a couple more fish and cooked them over a fire.

By the time I was finished, two glistening little fish sat on a plate, smelling sweetly of rosemary and thyme and lemon juice. I arranged some greens that I’d foraged on the side, taking more care to make it look nice than I wanted to admit.

Castor told me that Neil was in his room, so I went and opened the door, expecting to see him sitting at the dining table doing something princely—like reading or polishing his weapons or chatting with Eric.

But I didn’t expect to find him sprawled across his bed, half naked, head tilted back, eyes glazed from wine.

And I especially didn’t expect to find another woman straddling him and stroking his chest.