Page 23 of Lycan Prey (Little Secrets Duet #1)

· Aubrey ·

A couple of days later

The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room filled with memories of Granny. I’m on the floor, surrounded by papers and old photographs, each item a reminder of the loss that stings and aches like a fresh wound.

Granny always said she wouldn’t leave me with any burdens, but now I’m left with the burden of figuring out how to pay for her cremation.

I just found out Granny didn’t have funeral insurance.

She never wanted to be a bother, one she could hardly afford, but also always insisting on living simply and said just to toss her to the forest. So in her passing, she left me with a heavy weight on my shoulders.

As I sift through her belongings, I’m desperately trying to find anything of value, anything that might help cover the costs. I come across an old shoebox, worn and yellowed with time. Inside, I find a stack of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. I recognize Granny’s handwriting immediately.

Trembling, I untie the ribbon and my stomach sinks further when I realize they are all letters to my mother that had been returned to sender; unopened. My mother just sent them back.

I trace the delicate contours of the crumpled envelopes, their creases marking the passage of time and the pain Granny must have felt. Every one of them unopened. Never read. Returned like a slap on the face.

I’ve known about the estrangement between Granny and my mother for as long as I can remember, since we lost Brielle.

A knot tightens in my throat as I gently unfold the top-most letter. An ache fills my heart as I read the words from Granny meant for my mother, filled with hope and heartache in equal measures. It’s like opening a window into a past—one that hurts to explore and still haunts me.

Reading these letters…it’s all too real. Each attempted reconciliation, every plea for understanding, it twists at my heartstrings until I can hardly breathe.

My heart aches with sorrow and then suddenly, outrage. It’s like a dormant volcano that had been denied its rightful release. Mother had abandoned her, blamed her.

And while she’d been doing that, she’d also been reaching out to a daughter who didn’t want anything to do with her.

Resting my head in my hands, I let out a choked sob. The tears come hard and fast, just like they did when Rhett betrayed me.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, a forceful rap that startles me.

I stare at the door for a second wondering who it would be before I stand up hastily, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand as I move toward the door.

My heart jumps into my throat when I see it’s King Soren, his hair tousled and cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m sorry…” He begins. He takes in my tear streaked face and my grandmother’s belongings scattered all over the floor. “Bree,” he says again, this time his voice soft yet firm, as he peers behind me.

His presence here is both comforting and confusing. A Lycan King, standing outside Granny’s little house in this tiny town. I stare at him before glancing around for Max and his guards, but he is alone.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks politely, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Something inside my chest flutters but I quickly squash it down; that’s not love, but more rather a desperation for connection, anything other than the pain induced by losing Granny.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“How are you holding up?”

I force a weak smile, “Just trying to sort through Granny’s things. Why are you here?”

“Max has been upset, you haven’t been at work. I asked Marianne and she said you haven’t come in. I thought you might have fled. So I wanted to check on you.”

Is he going to tell me to leave since I didn’t register with the council?

Soren steps in, glancing around the room. “What are you looking for?” he inquires, noticing the clutter.

“Anything valuable to help with the funeral costs,” I admit, feeling a lump form in my throat.

He frowns, and I return to the boxes I just dragged in. “Where is Max?”

“With Damian,” he tells me, wandering over to grab a box I was about to pick up. I nod before thanking him when he sits the box down for me.

“No guards today?” I ask him.

His lips tug up in the corners. “Max isn’t the only one who tries to escape my guards,” he says with a soft laugh. I nod, resuming my spot on the floor and opening the next box.

“What about family?” he asks curiously. I laugh and shake my head.

“No, like me, Grandma was cast out,” I tell him before realizing what I said. Only grandma was cast out by her daughter. I was cast out by my parents, then my mate, and soon to be the King. I freeze at my word vomit.

The King watches me for a second. “Is that why you never registered with the council?” he asks, and I chew my lip. He sighs, dropping onto the floor next to me.

“I’m not here to tell you to leave, but some answers would be nice,” he tells me. But I can’t give him answers, not unless I want Rhett finding me. And what if the King believes Rhett’s lies and believes I stole from him? What would happen? Would he lock me up and throw away the key?

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

I stare at him and he looks so out of place here among the mess and in this tiny dilapidated place. He still manages to look graceful.

“I’ll leave the moment I sort out grandma’s cremation,” I tell him, knowing that is coming next.

“Bree, I never said you had to leave,” he tells me, reaching for my hand. His thumb brushes over the back of it. I stare at his hand for a second. “Stay, you’re welcome to remain here,” he murmurs. Gazing at him, my stomach twists in knots.

“And what happens when I don’t register before the month is up? Your brother wants me gone, he doesn’t trust me.”

“How about I make you a deal?” he offers. I watch him carefully. “I will pay for the funeral.”

I shake my head quickly. Is he insane? “I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”

Soren’s gaze softens. “Then let me loan you the money. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

I hesitate, torn between my pride and the growing pile of bills. “I would never earn enough to pay you back, My King,” I admit. My tips are good, but not that good.

“As Max’s nanny, you could,” he offers, and I huff. He still hasn’t given up on the nanny idea?

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

He smiles deviously. “Is that a yes?”

I hesitate, staring down at our intertwined hands. His offer is tempting, a chance to start over. But could I trust him? I trusted Rhett once and look where that got me.

“I don’t want your charity,” I mumble, pulling my hand away. Soren looks taken aback by the sudden movement but quickly recovers.

“It’s not charity, Bree,” he insists. “It’s a job offer. And a loan, which you’ll pay back.”

I bite my lip, considering his words. The reality is that grandma’s funeral expenses are piling up and utilities; which Granny was already behind on I just didn’t realize. I know soon I will have nowhere to stay if I don’t figure out some way to come up with the money.

The thought of being near Max again, to watch him grow up, is tempting. But the idea of being indebted to the King scares me.

Finally, I nod, accepting his offer. It feels like I’m surrendering, but the weight of the situation leaves me with little choice. Plus, it would feel great to have one less thing to worry about.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I agree, though a part of me screams in protest.

“But there’s two conditions,” Soren adds. “You’ll need to move into the castle. That condition is not negotiable. Besides, this place should be condemned,” he murmurs, peering around with slight disgust.

“I worry about Max’s safety if you watch him here,” he tells me, and I stare around at the peeling paint of the walls and the busted furniture.

“Your brother definitely would not like an unregistered werewolf in the castle, and what about full moons?” I ask him.

“Good thing my brother gets no say; he isn’t the King, I am.”

“Can I at least come back here on the full moon, I don’t trust my wolf around Max.” I admit.

“I have dungeons,” he tells me, his voice dropping to a tone that hints he is older than I realize. The way he says it sounds so medieval, and I can’t help but look at him puzzled.

He catches the confusion on my face and chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It is a castle, Bree. And I am, admittedly, very old.”

“How old?” I ask, my curiosity piqued, my smile teasing.

“Old enough to be your great-grandfather’s great-grandfather, probably.” His reply makes me grimace playfully.

“You’ve aged like fine wine, then,” I chuckle, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Realizing what I’ve just implied, my face burns with embarrassment.

“I mean, for an old guy,” I stammer, trying to deflect.

Soren’s smile widens, a hint of mischief playing across his features as he leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing.

“Very generous of you, Bree,” he murmurs, his gaze holding mine.

“Let’s not forget, with age comes not only wisdom but a certain finesse in all things.

I’ve learned to appreciate the finer details in life—I have the patience of a saint and the experience to make each moment count.

” His chuckle is soft and inviting, filled with a warmth that suggests familiarity and an allure that is both gentlemanly and subtly provocative.

“A saint, huh?” I quirk an eyebrow at him, trying to conceal my blush. “Is that right?”

“Indeed,” he affirms with a confident nod, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact sends shivers up my spine, unexpected, unwanted. “You’ll find I can be very… persuasive when I want something.”

His words, while charming and polite, carry an undercurrent that tugs at my thoughts, steering them into territory that makes my cheeks warm. The idea of such attention from him, even in the simplest interactions, stirs a mix of excitement and fear within me.

“So?” he questions.