Page 30 of Lycan Prey (Little Secrets Duet #1)

· King Soren ·

I get myself comfortable and ready for the night. Bree, however, is buzzing with nervous energy.

“Bree, please just lie down,” I finally say, unable to bear the tense energy any longer. “You’re anxiousness is making me anxious.”

She pauses, turning to look at me with wide, nervous eyes. “I can’t help it.”

“What are you so nervous about? I will sleep on the couch; that’s fine. Hell, I’ll sleep on the floor at this point if needed.”

She grabs a book and places it on the nightstand. Then a glass of water, placing it next to the bed. “Well?” I ask her, and she chews her lip. A cute blush paints her cheeks. I raise an eyebrow at her, wondering what has come over her.

“I’m a werewolf,” she says like that is all the answer I need to make sense of nervousness.

“So?”

“You’re a Lycan!” My brows scrunch together, trying to understand what she is getting at.

“I’m well aware of species differences,” I tell her.

I try to rack my brain to figure out why that is an issue, but it’s not a full moon, so it’s not like she will attack me.

I nearly laugh at the thought. Is she afraid of hurting me?

Or maybe werewolves do something strange when they are asleep. I’ve never slept next to one, so…

“What then, do you sleep howl instead of snore?” I ask, trying to figure out what she is getting at.

“What?” she looks at me quizzically.

“Chase rabbits in your dreams? You’re not gonna sniff my butt in my sleep, are you?” I laugh, and her face burns brighter, but so does her anger at that as she scoops up a pillow and lobs it at me.

“I’m not a dog!”

“That can kinda be debatable since you walk on four legs in that state, you also have a tail, only slightly larger than a typical wolf, but you all look the same.” She folds her arms across her chest, which shoves her boobs higher, and my eyes dart to them.

I force my gaze away. “Maybe I should get you a collar, I can take you for walkies,” I laugh.

“One more word and I will make you sleep on the floor!” she snaps at me. I snicker, and she rolls her eyes.

“Then what are you worried about?”

She rubs her temples in frustration. “You’re male!”

Wow, she is making this more awkward now.

“Last I checked, I was. Do you need proof?” I ask, and if looks could kill, I’d be dust.

“I’m a she-wolf, I… I might scent you.”

“So, you do want to sniff my butt?” I tease.

“You know what, I hope I do bite your sorry ass. And I hope it hurts! It might teach you some manners.”

I snicker, and she wanders off, continuing to get ready for bed as she snatches up her pajamas and heads in for a shower. I shake my head, turning my attention back to my book.

The silence is even more awkward when she is out, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets as Bree goes about her evening routine.

She’s showered, dressed and puts some strange lotion on her face, almost as if she forgets she is a werewolf and doesn’t need to; she may not be immortal like me, but werewolves still age slower than humans, so she certainly doesn’t need to apply anti-wrinkle cream to nonexistent wrinkles.

I watch, trying not to seem too curious.

As she meticulously gets ready for bed, she sets up her space.

The methodical way she arranges her things—sets everything close to the edge on the nightstand and then fluffs her pillow, testing it, then sniffs it?

Why is she sniffing her pillow? I never realized what strange creatures werewolves are.

She narrows her eyes before eyeing mine behind my head. My brows crease as she stares at mine. I glance away as she keeps staring—glaring—at my pillow like it wronged her in some way, wondering what she wants.

“Ah, is everything okay?” I ask her, and she rolls her eyes, snatching my pillow viciously, making me smack my head on the headboard of the bed.

“You stole my pillow!” she scowls.

“Ah, no, you just stole my pillow!” I remind her, rubbing the back of my head.

“No, that smells like Freesias. I know the scent of my pillow. The cleaner uses something on mine.” She inhales my pillow deeply and sighs.

“Whatever this delicious scent is?” she pauses, trying to describe the scent. “It’s… It’s… like smokey pine and blue lotus almost but more masculine and spicier. I want to eat it; it makes my mouth water.” She chuckles, and I snicker, folding my arms across my chest.

“Is it now, so it’s mouthwatering?” I ask her, and she nods, burying her face in my pillow and sighing deeply.

“Hmm, hm,” she hums, fluffy out her pillow.

“Does that scent remind you of anyone?” I ask her. She seems thoughtful for a second, and I growl, ripping her toward me. She smacks against my chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” she growls, and I tangle my fingers in her rainbow locks with a laugh, holding her cheek to my naked chest. “Soren!” she growls, biting my pec, her hands clawing at me to let her go.

“I wonder who it smells like? Delicious, she says. Are you trying to make me blush?” I chuckle.

“What are you talking about!” she shrieks, thrashing in my grip.

“Now I know why Max was swapping my pillow every morning. I thought he wanted it because of his night terrors, but now I know he was swapping it for yours.” I tell her, and she freezes, her small hands pushing on my chest. I let her go, and she jerks away before curiosity gets the better of her. She leans forward, sniffing me.

“Do I make your mouth water?” I laugh.

Her eyes widen, and her face turns crimson, recognizing the scent.

“I even berated the cleaning lady thinking she was changing my pillowcases since they never smelled of Max despite him swapping his pillow for mine each morning.” She says nothing and is just staring at me as her blush moves down her neck and chest. “But I am glad I smell mouthwatering, delicious even.” I laugh.

She looks on the verge of combusting from embarrassment.

“But you don’t smell like that during the day?” she blurts. “You still smell good, but…”

“You’ve been scenting me?” I ask her, and her mouth opens and closes like a fish as she tries to find words. I chuckle and lean forward slightly.

“No… I… your smell is all over Max… I…”

“So, you’ve been scenting my son?” I ask her, loving the way she squirms, trying to explain herself.

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“No, but I make your mouth water!” I retort. She looks away, her cheeks still flushed. I pull her closer. Our faces are inches apart. I take a deep breath and inhale her scent.

“It’s okay; I think you smell pretty delicious, too,” I tell her.

She growls at me before snatching the pillow she stole.

“Damian makes me wear a scent masker; don’t ask me why.

It muffles my scent or adds to it or something.

He sprays it in all the cars, too; I can’t stand the smell of it.

Muffles my sense of smell, too,” I tell her.

“I’m still keeping it!” she tells me, fluffing the pillow before moving to the sofa under the bay windows and stealing more pillows and cushions. Does she need to create a Den? Does she have her monthlies? What the fuck is this woman doing now?

I watch her as she makes a long line of pillows down the middle of the bed— this woman and her weird compulsions fascinate me and infuriate me.

“What are you doing now?” I can’t help but ask as the pillow wall becomes higher.

She doesn’t look up from her task. “My ex always complained I moved around a lot in my sleep,” she says, her voice muffled slightly by the pillow in her hands.

“He said that me scenting him annoyed him,” she adds. I want to ask about this ex to pry into who could possibly have issues with such a trivial thing, but she gives away nothing more, skillfully avoiding my gaze and any further questions I want to ask.

With a final pat, she seems satisfied with her pillow barrier.

“Comfy now, or should I ask the maid for more pillows? I can still see if I sit up high enough, don’t want any awkward eye contact,” I tell her.

“Are you usually this annoying when on your own? I see why Damian gets so frustrated with you!”

“No, I just like watching you get cranky, you’re like a Pomeranian all bark and no bite.”

She lifts her head to glare at me over her wall of pillows.

“So cute when you’re angry. I can’t wait to see your bed hair in the morning,” I chuckle.

“Moon Goddess help me, I’m gonna kill him in his sleep!” she flops back down on the bed.

She turns off her lamp and settles in, facing away from me. The distance between us, marked by her wall of pillows, feels like miles.

Curious about her restless sleep habits, I decide to stay up and read. The soft glow of my reading lamp casts shadows across the room, and for a while, everything is calm.

As the night deepens, Bree begins to squirm, the pillow wall disappearing as she kicks at the sheets.

Her movements are subtle at first, then grow more pronounced.

She moans and groans, clearly in discomfort.

I set my book aside, concerned. Is she dreaming?

Except dreams don’t hurt, so why is she in a fetal position?

Later into the night, Bree’s tossing and turning intensifies. I find myself unable to focus on my book. Her moans grow louder and more frequent, and her movements become more restless.

I sit up in bed, contemplating whether I should wake her up. Before I can decide, she rolls over and inches closer to me, her head resting on my chest as she continues to sleep.

I stare down at her, unsure of what to do. She looks so peaceful now, when only moments ago she seemed to be in such discomfort. I gently stroke her hair, hoping it will soothe whatever is causing her distress in her sleep.

Without thinking, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer against me. Her body relaxes against mine, and she lets out a content sigh.

For some reason, this feels right. Having Bree snuggled against me like this feels natural, even though we barely know each other. I stare at the ceiling.