Page 15 of Exiled Heir

The growl built in his chest, practically rumbling the ground under my feet. I answered it, but my wolf was still distant, impossible for me to grab hold of, so mine came out an almost human sound.

“Now,whatis allthis?” The voice coming from behind the wolf was high and warm. Annoyance laced through it with an edge of sarcasm. “I knowno onegot me out of bed to clean upyourperfect behind, Tyson. Because you know Mama likes hersleep, and if you piss me off attwo thirtyin the morning, you’re likely to see what happens.”

The wolf half turned, looking over his shoulder. Then, to my utter shock, he let someone shove him aside and push forward into the shower. He wore a robe, and a bonnet on his head protected his hair. Everything from his sleepy eyes to the yawn he covered with the back of his hand said that he had just been woken up.

“Nowyou, theydefinitelyshould have woken me up for.” Smiling, he offered out his hand, palm down, as though I was supposed to kiss it.

I looked down. “I’m still wet.”

“Iseethat,” he purred. “I’m Rhys. I prefer they/them, Mr. Wet. Or do you have a different name? All they called you wasPrince Bartlett’sconsort.”

The massive wolf frowned, his brows going tight together. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and some of them were still long, still sharp enough to tear human flesh.

“You’re Bartlett’s little consort?” Tyson laughed. He pulled down his pants, tossing them in the laundry. “And your dick didn’t freeze off when you dipped it? Surprised you didn’t get frostbite.”

He made an obscene gesture with his hand, then made a show of looking me over. When his eyes focused on my collarless neck, his laugh turned into a sneer. I crossed my arms. If he thought I was about to be intimidated by some alpha wannabe, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t a middle school locker room. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Tyson took a few steps into the room, growling. I took another step forward, my eyes narrowed on him. He was going to lunge at me, but I would take a few steps back, let him slide on the puddle of water in front of him. Then I would get my arm around his neck, pulling back, even if he tried to buck me off. He probably had the arm strength to flip us, but even if he did, he would be close enough to the showers that I could slam his head against the wall before…

My plan stopped there because I realized that what I had taken for grime on his throat was actually a thick band of magic.

ChapterSix

That was how everyone knew I wasn’t bonded to Cade. That was what the collars usually covered up. But wolves couldn’t use magic. It was impossible.

Still, on Tyson’s throat, the magic shifted and moved, curling in on itself and then away.

Cade’s power had looked like tattoos, black lines that covered his body, in sharp arrows and blades, every line formed like a weapon. These were dark red, the color of blood. They seethed when he moved, lazily spinning around his neck. A single line trailed down his chest and over his abs.

Tyson followed my gaze, then looked back at me. He smirked, turning to the nearest shower and flipping it on.

“You see something you like? Cade notsatisfyingyou?” He grabbed a washcloth, scrubbing it over himself. “I always figured Cade wouldn’t be able to get it up with a wolf.”

“We haven’t fully bonded yet,” I said, the words tasting like cardboard in my mouth. I wanted to come up behind him, slam him against the wall. Every instinct in me told me to assert dominance. He had challenged me. He had challengedCade.

That thought brought me up short. Why did I care anything about Cade? No. Cade had paid me to do a job while he looked for whoever was trying to kill him. Although, if Cade had asked me, Tyson would be my number one suspect.

With his back to me, he was making a point. He didn’t have anything to be afraid of from me.

“Okay,” Rhys said. They picked their way across the bathroom, carefully avoiding letting their enormous, pink, fluffy slippers touch any of the puddles of water. “Come on, honey. I wouldn’t eventryto talk to Tyson when he’s in amood.”

Rhys took my arm and guided me back to the entrance of the showers. They grabbed one of the towels and held it out for me.

With one last glare at Tyson, who refused to look at me, as good as telling me that I wasn’t even worth the effort of a growl, I followed Rhys out. The hallway was chilly, even with the towel tucked around my waist.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the rescue,” I said, “but why did they wake you up?”

“Magic,” Rhys said, their voice going operatic. “Normally people come tomein my studio, but Idomake some exceptions.”

Rhys held open the door across from the showers. Not having anything better to do, I walked into the room.

The cook was inside, setting out three platters of food. She was smiling, chatting with a werewolf who was lounging in a chair. The wolf reached out, about to steal a piece of bacon from the plate, and the cook slapped her hand.

“You!” Rhys pointed at the werewolf. “Mygod, you left mealonewithTysonwhen he’d come in from a hunt.”

Rhys drawled every word, making each part of the sentence dramatic. They extended both of their arms out. The werewolf stood, sauntering across the room and embracing Rhys. She was slightly taller than them, and where Rhys had a bonnet on, she had her dark hair cropped close on the sides, slightly longer in the middle. A narrow nose and sharp eyes gave her the look of a wolf, even when she wasn’t shifted.

A thin, silver collar rested at her throat. It was a delicate chain, nothing like the thick leather strap Cade had offered me. I dragged my eyes away from it, back to Rhys.