Page 14 of Lycan Prey (Little Secrets Duet #1)

My tongue suddenly weighs a ton in my mouth as I try to answer but only manage to fumble over my words.

He must grow annoyed at waiting because he marches toward me, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest, as an embarrassing squeak leaves me.

He reaches for me. I slap his hand, a knee jerk reaction to someone trying to grab me.

The sharp intake of his men’s breath behind him at what I did is audible and a hush falls over everyone as if they, too, are holding their breath to see his reaction. His eyes flash wildly and I notice Max peek around his holder as if he is scared to see what his father will do.

“You’re a daring little thing, aren’t you?

Now let’s try that again, slap me once more and I won’t be as forgiving; luckily for you, my son is present or I would…

” he pauses, reaching for me. I suck in a breath and he jerks me toward him.

I smack against his chest with a thud, my hands flailing as I try to keep my balance.

His breath sweeps over my skin and I freeze, becoming still as a statue.

His grip on my arm is hot, searing even and I am acutely aware of every inch of this man .

Of how inadequate I am beside him and how easily he could kill me if he so chooses.

This man isn’t Rhett, I stand no chance against him, he could break me like a twig, kill me without blinking.

“Werewolf, like I thought,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. “Though that is a little too obvious. Let’s see what else your scent gives away because I don’t recognize it,” he murmurs. His hand on my arm moves around my waist.

He pulls me against him, my body crushed against his, my fingers clutch his crisp suit jacket as my feet are dragged from the ground.

His other hand finds its way into my hair as he grabs a fistful, tilting my head back.

His nose runs the column of my neck to the back of my ear and I swallow thickly.

He can’t recognize my scent which goes to show how much I reeked of Rhett and his pack last time we met.

“Hmm, interesting. Unmarked, unmated, and pure,” he purrs while inhaling deeply. “Now that is worrisome indeed,” he adds, letting me go abruptly. I stumble back. “Dangerous even,” he warns and my cheeks flame with not only the heat of him so close but the humiliation.

The King’s eyes bore into mine, demanding answers. His presence is overwhelming, filling the room with an oppressive energy. “My Beta said you haven’t registered. Is that true? Why didn’t you register?”

I struggle to keep my composure, aware the slightest misstep could have grave consequences. “I… I forgot,” I lie, hoping he’ll believe me.

“You dare to trespass on our land without registering, knowing the risks of being not only a werewolf but an unmated, unmarked one. You would put my son in such a risk by merely being near you so close to the next full moon,” the King growls, his tone menacing.

“No, I was trying to help… I… didn’t know he was your son… I…”

“You thought what? Any wolf can tell his aura is not normal for a boy his age and you expect me to believe such words. You said so yourself, we met before or we didn’t meet, which is it?”

“Only in passing,” I lie, knowing we met in the city definitely would raise more suspicion. He already thinks I’m some she wolf after a strong Alpha. Let alone stalking him and his son.

“You have no pack affiliation, no identification. You are nothing but a rogue and I’m expected to believe you just happened upon my son?” Max stares up at his father and tugs at his hand.

“I was just trying to help Max.” I chew my lip.

“Help Max?” The King snaps. “How do I know you haven’t kidnapped him?”

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to kidnap him,” I protest desperately. “I found him at the park.”

The King studies me closely, his gaze piercing and intense. For a moment, there is silence as we stand there, locked in a tense standoff.

Before the King can respond, Max interrupts, rushing to my side. “You won’t hurt my friend, Daddy. She is my friend!”

“Your friend failed to register, Max,” the King explains, his tone gentle but firm.

“But she didn’t mean it, right, Brielle?” Max stares at me with pleading eyes, the hope in his expression nearly breaking my heart.

I chew my lip, uncertain of what to say. “Please, Dad, she did nothing wrong but try to walk me home. She didn’t even know who I was, I had my mask,” he says holding up his Spider-Man mask. The King stares at his son but then sighs heavily.

Finally, the King speaks again. “Very well,” he says in a low growl. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time.”

The King watches me intently, then glances down at his son, who stares up at him pleadingly.

“I’ll give you a one-month grace period for returning my son.

You are to register within that time, don’t let me cross paths with you again while unregistered, are we clear?

” I nod letting out a breath of relief while Max beams up at me excitedly.

As I leave the palace grounds, my legs tremble beneath me.

I head back to work to explain my absence before heading home and back to Granny.

The walk home I feel like I’m being watched, that I am just one step away from this facade I’ve built crumbling down around me.

Today was a close call. Fear has me uneasy.

What if they figure it out? Figure out who I am.

· · ·

The following day at work, a persistent unease lingers from the previous day, weighing heavy on my shoulders as I dive into the familiar routine of cleaning tables and taking orders in the quaint, bustling café.

My attempts to push aside the lingering anxiety falter when I lay eyes on Max sitting in a booth.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Max?” I blurt out, taken aback, frantically scanning for his nanny or guards.

“Does your father know you’re here?” Just as I ask, and before he can answer, the King rushes into the café, looking panicked.

The King’s tall, muscular frame exudes authority and power as he moves swiftly through the crowded café, his eyes scanning the room with a sense of urgency.

Max shrinks down in his seat to try to hide from the man and I want to join him.

The murmur of conversations simmers down, and all heads turn toward him.

“Max!” he calls out, panic in his voice.

His face is contorted with worry, and his eyes are scanning the room frantically.

The King’s dark hair is slightly disheveled, clearly running his hands through it in worry.

His piercing gaze sweeps across the room, eyes narrowing in on me when he spots me.

The entire café falls silent, all eyes on the King.

Max gazes at me with wide eyes, fully aware he has been discovered.

A nervous squeak escapes him, drawing his father’s focus before he swiftly slides off the table and attempts to hide behind me, using me as a shield.

The King makes a beeline toward us, but I step forward, blocking his path.

He comes to an abrupt stop in front of us.

“He’s just a boy, My King,” I gently remind him, sensing his tumultuous aura swirling around us, fearful that he might lose control in dealing with his son.

He pauses to consider my words, and in that moment, his aura shifts suddenly as if a veil has been lifted. Like he just realized he was using it.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges softly. “I was merely concerned for him. Thank you for watching over him.”

“He’s a sweet kid. I’m just glad he came here and wasn’t sitting in the park alone again,” I tell him.

In the midst of the tense situation, a surge of protectiveness toward Max travels through me.

His innocent eyes filled with fear, and the way he clings to me like a lifeline, it’s clear he’s just a vulnerable boy who’s screaming for attention, to be noticed by his father.

Well he has his father’s attention now but I doubt this is what he was expecting.

As the king’s gaze lingers on us, I can’t help but wonder how he’s going to handle his son. Would he punish him?