Chapter 21

Neil

I did not invite that woman back to my room that night.

Nor did I invite any woman to my room, even though I had been in the mood to drink and let off some steam.

Sleeping with a beautiful Lycan woman should not have bothered me. It was commonplace here for a man—especially one of my status—to spend a night with a woman who was not his mate. It was even expected.

And the woman who I had approached in the courtyard had been more than enthusiastic to join me in bed.

But seeing the look in Raven’s eyes when she stepped into the room had ruined the entire night for me.

She looked like a hurt kitten, her face caught somewhere between pain and fury. And no matter how irritatingly cute I found that look of hers, I also found myself unable to cause more of it.

My wolf was practically howling with amusement inside of me as I ate the fish she had brought for me.

“You are turning soft toward her,” he said with a deep chuckle that rattled the inside of my skull. “Since when is the hard-hearted Lycan prince a sucker for a girl’s puppy eyes?”

I chewed the last bite of fish, which now tasted like ash on my tongue when it had tasted like a delicacy before, and shoved the plate away.

“I am not soft.”

My wolf laughed even harder.

“Sure you aren’t. And I am not the spirit of a wolf living inside of you.”

I curled my lip in response and rose, pouring myself another cup of spiced wine to soothe my frayed nerves.

It was just physical attraction, I told myself as I gulped down the drink; seeing her body in the hot spring, playing with her like pups, not to mention the rush of post-battle hormones caused by the fight with the rogues.

“It’s just the perfect storm,” I said.

My wolf just shook his head in disbelief.

That night, as I laid in bed, my wolf urged me to go to her. He said she wanted me, that I could slip into her room and we could both relieve ourselves of our frustration. It was only natural, to be physically attracted to one’s mate; and maybe that was even why I had invited that Lycan woman to my bed to begin with, because I sorely needed a release.

But I did not go to her. I couldn’t go to her.

Because if I did give in, then perhaps I would accidentally mark her. And then I would never be able to reject our mate bond.

…

The meeting room felt too hot, too close after a night of tossing and turning. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, itching to get outside and patrol.

I hated these meetings; not because I hated the art of strategy and planning, but because I hated my brothers.

Caleb and Edrick sat opposite me, poring over tactical maps and battle plans. Caleb looked as comfortable as ever, broad arms braced on the wooden table, while Edrick was scratching the scar on his cheek and peering at the pieces on the map.

They’d been discussing military plans without me for the past ten minutes.

“I think it’s better if we take the rogue camp to the north,” Caleb mused, tapping his fingers on the weathered map. “We could use that land as a new location for barracks. It would benefit us to have troops stationed that close to the Werewolf border.”

Edrick shook his head and pushed one of the wooden pieces depicting a wolf’s head toward the east. “I disagree, brother. Our forces are better put to use out east, where the Werewolves have been caught crossing the borders on numerous occasions as of late. I say we leave the rogues to kill each other during their own disputes, and we’ll take the land after. Better that than to waste the resources in an unnecessary battle.”

Caleb pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“If we leave the rogues alone, then we will just come across as peaceloving,” I chimed in. “I believe we should send a few warriors to handle them while still moving forces east. I could lead—”

“No, Neil,” my brothers cut me off at almost the exact same time. Edrick smirked and continued, “It’s better for you to stay here. We need a guard dog around the castle.”

I clenched my teeth, prepared to bite out a retort. But before I could, Caleb said, “Actually, that reminds me… Have you found any Werewolves on your patrols, Neil?”

“No,” I replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Why?”

My brothers exchanged glances. “We found a Werewolf male staggering around the village,” Caleb explained. “He claimed that he was searching for a female.”

“Apparently their plane crashed just off the coast,” Edrick finished. “Unlikely story, of course. I suspect he was a spy searching for his cohort.”

The claims, unbeknownst to my brothers, hit a little too close to home. I kept my expression neutral, but my mind whirled all the while. That must have been the pilot that Raven had mentioned. She thought he had died during the crash.

“Where is he?” I asked. “I’d be curious to question him.”

Caleb scoffed. “Where do you think, brother? He’s on display outside the village as we speak.”

My stomach twisted. On display. I knew all too well what that meant.

He had survived the crash, but not my brothers.

“Well,” I said, “I haven’t seen any females around. Although I did find a severed arm on the beach during my patrol last week—perhaps the sharks got her.”

That seemed to satisfy my brothers, at least for now. They both chuckled and made vulgar comments about the things they should do to the severed arm before they turned their attention back to the map.

But as the meeting concluded, I could not help but gnash my teeth ominously. Raven was already on thin ice as it was, and my brothers were no idiots. Surely they had put two and two together and were keeping us on their radar.

And if anyone else came to search for her…

Well, then they wouldn’t believe my severed arm story much longer.

As I followed my brothers out of the meeting chamber, I veered off toward the training grounds, where Raven and the others were likely still practicing. As much as I loathed to do it, I knew that Raven would want to know what had truly become of her pilot.

The training grounds were warm and sunny as I made my way over. I shucked my tunic off, grateful for the fresh air and to be out of that stuffy meeting room. At least here, I was respected—at least here, I was not the lesser brother who had no right to the throne.

Perhaps someday, sooner rather than later, they would have no choice but to respect me. Gone would be the days of being ignored and talked over during tactical meetings. All I needed to do was get through the upcoming succession battle.

Preferably without my Werewolf mate being discovered. That should be possible, so long as she kept her head down. We might need to find a way to ensure that no one else came searching for her here, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

I was so deep in thought, however, that I didn’t notice where I was walking. And suddenly, as I crossed the arena, something whizzed past my head. I ducked, but not before I felt something sharp graze my cheek.

The arrow thudded into the dummy behind me with a reverberating thwack.

Eyes wide, I looked up from my crouched position to see Raven standing a few paces away with a training bow in hand. She looked like a stunned doe.

“Why did you walk in front of the dummy?!” she exclaimed, lowering her bow.

I grunted, touching my stinging cheek. My fingers came away bloody, but I was more surprised than anything—her accuracy seemed to be improving.

And I was even more surprised when I turned and saw her arrow buried directly in the center of the training dummy’s head.