Page 29

When she left, Orion took a deep breath. His cock throbbed, a painful reminder of his unfulfilled need. He stalked into the bathroom, turning on the shower to cold in an attempt to curb his desire, but the icy water did little to help.

He leaned against the tiled wall, his hand drifting down to grip himself as images of Seraphina flooded his mind—her lips parted, her body arching against his, and the way she'd felt in the vision they'd shared. His strokes were rough and desperate, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagined her beneath him, her green eyes hazy with desire.

"Seraphina," he growled, her name a prayer and a curse as he spilled into his hand, the release doing little to satisfy the ache in his chest.

He washed quickly, the cold water doing its job to clear his head. Drying off, he caught his reflection in the fogged mirror—his gray eyes stormy and his tattoos stark against his tanned skin. He dressed with deliberate precision, the crisp white dress shirt and tailored slacks a stark contrast to the chaos inside him. His pack needed him, and he couldn't afford to let his personal desires interfere with his duties.

Orion strode through the castle corridors with purpose. The morning sunlight streamed through the arched windows, casting geometric patterns across the plush carpeted floor.

His royal study awaited at the end of the west wing, a sanctuary of power where he'd conducted pack business forcenturies. As he approached, the ornately carved wooden door opened before him—Jared, his communications councilman, having sensed his approach.

"Your Majesty," Jared said with a bow, his voice tight with anxiety. "There's been a development with the American senator."

Orion's muscles tightened as he entered the study, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud. The room smelled of ancient books and the lingering scent of the cedar logs that had burned in the fireplace overnight. His chief councilman, Marcus, stood by the massive oak desk, a tablet in hand and worry etched into his features.

"Tell me," Orion commanded, not bothering to sit.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Senator Iverson has sent his personal assistant to the island. A human named York. He arrived by private helicopter twenty minutes ago and is demanding an audience."

Orion's eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "What are his instructions?"

"According to our intelligence, he's been ordered not to return to the mainland without Miss Lucero."

The wolf inside Orion snarled, bristling against the audacity of another male attempting to take what was his. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk, the wood creaking under the pressure.

"The senator received our message?" Orion asked, his voice dangerously soft.

"Yes, Your Majesty. We sent exactly what you dictated—that Miss Lucero is safe, receiving care after an assault attempt, and free to leave whenever she wishes." Marcus hesitated. "He appears to have disregarded it entirely."

Orion's first instinct blazed hot and primitive—eliminate the threat. His wolf visualized ripping out York's throat, ending theproblem with blood and finality. It would be so simple. He could shift and be upon the human before anyone could intervene. One less lackey in Iverson's arsenal.

But killing a human diplomat, even one as insignificant as York, would only escalate matters. Iverson would simply send someone else—perhaps military next time—and the bureaucratic nightmare would multiply.

"Where is he now?" Orion asked, releasing his grip on the desk.

"In the main conference room. Requesting to see you immediately."

Orion paced to the window, looking out at the crystalline waters that surrounded his island kingdom. Seraphina was somewhere in the castle, perhaps still asleep in the guest suite. The thought of her soft curves tangled in sheets sent a wave of heat through him.

"I need more time," he murmured. Then, with renewed determination, he turned to Marcus. "Delay him. Book his day solid with meaningless meetings. Have him speak with every councilman about island protocols. Give him the full bureaucratic treatment."

Marcus's lips twitched with understanding. "The human experience, Your Majesty?"

"Exactly." Orion's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Tell him I'm occupied with urgent matters until this evening at the earliest."

"And Miss Lucero?"

"She stays undisturbed. I don't want York anywhere near her." The wolf in him snapped possessively at the mere thought.

Marcus nodded, making notes on his tablet. "I'll arrange everything. Though I should mention, York seems quite... persistent."

"So am I." Orion's voice held centuries of iron will. "I need today to convince Seraphina to stay willingly. Once she understands what being Luna truly means—what I can offer her—she'll choose us over returning to Miami."

The confidence in his tone masked the unfamiliar flutter of uncertainty in him. For the first time, something vital lay beyond his control. His Luna's heart couldn't be commanded or claimed by royal decree.

"Prepare the royal gardens for a private lunch," Orion continued. "And have the kitchen prepare their finest. I want everything perfect."

"Of course, Your Majesty."