Page 18 of Lycan Prey (Little Secrets Duet #1)

· Aubrey ·

A week later

The café bustles with its usual morning crowd as I navigate between the tables, delivering steaming cups of coffee and plates of fresh pastries along with freshly made sandwiches. The bell above the door chimes repeatedly, signaling the arrival of new customers.

The café is alive with people, a constant rush of faces coming and going.

The walls are adorned with colorful artwork and the tables are filled with steaming food and drinks.

Among the hustle and bustle, a young boy stands out, his familiar face scanning the room until his eyes meet mine.

As he approaches, I can see the remnants of dirt and grass on his clothing, evidence of his recent escapade.

His cheeks are slightly flushed from running.

I sigh heavily knowing what this means already.

He has snuck out again! I swear he is trying to get me caught.

Max stands out in the busy café, his short dark hair sticking up in all directions and a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes.

He wears a plaid shirt and his shoelaces are untied.

Max’s footsteps are light and quick as he weaves through the tables, the chatter and clattering of dishes and cutlery surrounding him.

He greets me with a mischievous giggle, and I can hear the faint sound.

“Max, you shouldn’t be here, where is your father? Does he know you’ve snuck off again?” I ask him. Great, this means his father will come looking for him again.

Max grins wider. “Ah, don’t worry about him.

He doesn’t know I’m here. I can handle my dad.

Besides, he didn’t seem that mad yesterday when I snuck out and came here.

” This boy is becoming a thorn in his father’s side.

Every day Max sneaks out, Marianne needs to start charging him rent. He frequents this place so much.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Max blushes under my scrutinizing gaze, and I fold my arms across my chest and purse my lips.

“Really, because your father looked pretty mad yesterday, and the day before,” I tell him, a little of my nervousness making a return.

Max’s visits are starting to draw too much attention to me, and I know King Soren and his guard are watching me closely now. Max smiles cheekily. “Well, if he wanted me to stay at home, his men should be on better guard.”

“Or maybe you should stop trying to put your father in an early grave by giving him a heart attack.”

The boy bites his lip.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” I ask him and he flutters his dark lashes at me giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “Dad is immortal, he can’t have a heart attack.” he states confidently.

“Well there is always a first time, and you are really testing that, my boy.”

“Did Marianne make more chocolate chip cookies?”

I roll my eyes and smile.

“I thought you were visiting me; turns out you’re just here for cookies. I’m sure we can organize them to be delivered if it helps your little royal pain in my butt,” I tell him.

“At least I am a cute pain in the butt.” he replies swiftly and I laugh, messing his hair.

“Yes, luckily for you. Now go get your seat.”

I know his father will be by as soon as he realizes he is gone again!

I shake my head about to retrieve his cookie when I hear the sound of tires screeching outside.

I peek at Marianne behind the counter who glances at the window.

The King keeps showing up here and she may just fire me for the annoyance.

She only has a silly smile on her face, though, when she peeks at Max then out the windows.

Dark SUVs pull up to the curb in front of the café, the doors of several open with urgency, as guards storm out of cars, drawing my attention.

One grips the door handle, it rattles as it swings open and the bells above the door ring loudly.

As I turn around from delivering another plate of food, I catch sight of King Soren stalking into the café accompanied by several guards.

The tall, imposing figure of King Soren enters, his broad shoulders fill the space as he strides confidently toward the counter.

He is flanked by several guards, their serious expressions and bulging muscles adding to the intimidating presence of the King.

Before he reaches the counter he spots Max.

“There you are,” he growls and the room falls silent.

His face immediately softens as if relieved Max is okay.

At this point, it’s obvious he knows where Max escapes to daily, and his frustration is evident.

His deep black hair is tousled as if he had run his fingers through it all morning, and blue eyes pin me where I stand, his muscles bulging under his form-fitting suit.

I’m like a deer caught in headlights each time he comes to collect his son. I worry he will eventually learn who I am and send me back to Rhett. I shudder at the thought.

“I see my son has taken a liking to this place,” he remarks dryly, his eyes not leaving mine.

I stand straighter, shaking off my horror, brushing off my apron. “He’s a good kid. But I think your nanny might be having a challenging time keeping up with him.”

Soren sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Seems like it. Would you…” he hesitates, “would you consider being Max’s nanny?”

Damian, his guard, clears his throat nervously behind him, his hard-set gaze directed at me.

Damian stands just a few inches shorter than the King, his broad shoulders and tense posture showing his strength and readiness to protect.

His closely cropped hair is a deep brown, and his sharp features are set in a serious expression.

Those dark eyes bore into me, unflinching and intense making me want to shrink away from him.

“Sir, we hardly know the girl,” he mutters.

The tension in the air is palpable as the King and his guard Damian stand before me, their intense gazes on me. I shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

“Have you got a better idea?” King Soren snaps at Damian, his voice laced with frustration. “Exactly how safe is my son when he not only escapes the nanny, but all my guards?”

Damian nods once, his face stoic and unreadable. The King turns his piercing gaze back to me, and I can’t help but feel small under his intense stare.

“Well?” he prompts, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. This was not the way I had imagined today's run in with the King would go.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I stammer out. “I don’t think I’m qualified to be Max’s nanny.”

The King raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not impressed by my answer.

“And why is that?” he asks, his voice holding a hint of irritation.

“Well…I don’t have any experience taking care of children,” I admit sheepishly.

King Soren’s expression softens slightly as he considers this. He rubs a hand over his tired face before staring back at me with a determined glint in his blue eyes.

“I understand your hesitation,” he says calmly. “However, my son seems to really like you and that’s what matters most to me right now.”

I glance over at Max who is tugging excitedly on Damian’s arm, begging him for something. The sight brings a smile to my face despite the tense situation.

“Plus,” the King continues. “We have plenty of staff who can assist you and give you training if needed.”

I’m surprised by the offer, also intrigued. It would certainly be a change from cleaning tables at the café every day. Could I really handle being a nanny for the King’s son?

I realize I never answered his question. To be honest, I didn’t think he was being serious because, as Damian said, I am a stranger. “I… I can’t. My grandmother, she’s not well, and I need to be there for her.”

He nods, peering over at Max when Marianne sets a plate of pancakes in front of him and chocolate chip cookies. “Anyone would think I don’t feed you,” he scolds his son, who smiles brightly back at him.

“Blair never makes pancakes,” Max pouts.

“Blair is now on probation because of your antics,” he tells his son before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He takes out some cash

I shake my head. “No, it is fine,” I tell him.

“It wasn’t a choice. Marianne told me you’ve been covering his bill; you should have told me he had been running up a tab.” He glares at his son.

“Really, he is no trouble and I make plenty of tips here,” I say, trying to refuse his money. He steps closer and my breath lodges in my throat when he slips his hand into my jeans pocket. I gasp and the King smirks.

“Take it, I don’t like owing anyone, and for the past week you’ve been working two jobs.”

“I would hardly call feeding your son, and letting him follow me at work an extra job.”

The King chuckles. “I have over a hundred staff at the castle, and he escapes everyone, except you,” King Soren whispers, his hand still in my pocket as I’m pressed against him.

Damian clears his throat, snapping us out of the little bubble we are stuck in. We both peer around to find everyone has stopped to stare. The King clears his throat, letting me go, but I see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

I hesitate before pulling the considerable stack of cash from my back pocket, and my eyes widen.

“Your Highness, he has not cost this much,” I panic, and I try to hand it back.

He refuses, and I turn to Damian. He steps back with his hands up in the air.

Reluctantly, I take it, surprised by the gesture even though he was so stern moments before.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” It is difficult to mask my shock at how generous he is being with someone he hardly knows. This is going to make a huge difference to my grandmother.

He nods in acknowledgment before turning to Max, who has been watching us silently from where he sits at the table. He grumbles something under his breath before obediently standing and coming over to his father, who picks him up, heading out of the café, with Damian following closely behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Brielle,” Max calls out, and his father growls, pulling back to look at him.

“You will be staying with me tomorrow, young man,” the King tells him. Max rolls his eyes before peering over his father’s shoulder and mouthing, ‘I will see you tomorrow.’

I giggle, shaking my head at the boy. As they walk out of sight, I stare down at the hefty wad of cash in my hands, still stunned by what happened.

Despite being scared stiff when faced with such an imposing King, he is just a parent trying desperately to protect his son, even if this meant hiring mysterious strangers from cafés.

Moving toward the counter, I take what Max spent out, plus a tip before placing the rest in the charity jar. Meredith organizes weekly food runs to the local neighborhood centers for the homeless rogues.

“Brielle?” Meredith says, shocked.

I hold up the few dollars I have to show her. I didn’t put it all in there, knowing she would try to sneak it back to me—the woman is too honest.

“Take it, I’ve felt bad since working here that I haven’t been able to put a cent in there,” I tell her. She smiles sadly.

“You’re too sweet, my dear,” she murmurs.