Page 33 of Lycan Prey (Little Secrets Duet #1)
Soren watches me as I pull on some jeans, his eyes darkening with every move I make.
He remains silent, his gaze burning into me as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.
There’s something predatory about the way he looks at me, and it sends a shudder of anticipation down my spine, wondering if he likes what he sees.
Or does he just see an intruder he has to share a room with since his son likes me.
Finally tearing his gaze away from me, Soren heads for the door before pausing. “Brielle,” he starts, his voice low and husky. He doesn’t turn to look at me as he continues, “If… when this whole charade is over… remember you’re still free to keep your actual job here.”
His words hang in the air, and echo in my mind, leaving me reeling with confusion and uncertainty.
They sting more than I can tell him as I wonder if I will be able to handle that.
I’m already attached to his son and the more I’m around Soren and the closer we get…
There is no going back to how things were when we’ve blurred too many lines.
“Crap, I almost forgot my shoes,” he mutters, moving to the closet again. Exactly how does he plan for that to work out, that we will go back to normal? Pretend nothing has changed?
Soren emerges from his walk-in closet, dressed completely now, his scent still lingering on me, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.
He brushes past me without a touch, but I can feel the heat radiating off him.
It feels good, but it also stings with the reminder of what just happened and what can never happen again.
We head down the stairs in silence. My hand grips the banister tightly, my knuckles turning white. My chest feels heavy with emotion, my heart thudding loudly in my chest in sync with my steps.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pancakes wafts through the air, making my stomach growl in hunger. However, my senses are too preoccupied, as the scent of Soren’s cologne mingles with my own, a lingering reminder of the intimacy we shared moments ago.
As we enter the dining hall, I can feel Soren’s family’s eyes on us.
His mother’s eyes light up as she sees us together - a sight that brings an ache to my heart.
She is a sweet woman, always welcoming and kind to me.
I feel like I’m deceiving her by being here, pretending everything is normal when it’s far from it.
“There you two love birds are!” his mother exclaims, and I smile awkwardly as Soren pecks my cheek, moving to take his seat at the head of the table.
I slide into my usual seat beside Soren, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone.
“I’m so excited, I’ve been up since 4 AM. I’ve already started making arrangements for the engagement party, and oh, I have so many things I found.”
I cast a nervous glance at Soren who doesn’t seem fazed by his mother’s planning.
“Maribel, dear, let the girl eat before you shove flower arrangements and lace down her throat. Gees, it’s bad enough I had to listen to it all night and morning,” King Alaric states with a shake of his head.
Max watches us from his seat at the table but shrugs and returns to shoveling his cereal into his mouth. Ignoring the curious glances aimed our way, I play along with this farcical masquerade we’ve concocted.
The moment I sit, Maribel moves her breakfast to sit right beside me to show catalogs.
During breakfast, Soren is charismatic and attentive—nothing like the man who had whispered sweet words to me earlier. His personality shift makes it evident he doesn’t share my turmoil and guilt. He’s playing a part and nothing more, why does it hurt knowing that?
As I glance at him from across the table–laughing and as charming as ever–a sense of disbelief hits me.
With every gesture and every word, he pushes me further into my own guilt and confusion.
The worst part is that I can’t bring myself to blame him.
He warned me, after all, that his mother would be full on; I didn’t think he would encourage her, though.
This was never meant to be real; we are just two people caught in a lie he told.
His mother’s excited chatter about wedding venues and guest lists feels like a punch to my gut.
The reality of our deception is beginning to settle in, and the merciless truth of it gnaws at me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Especially seeing her excitement, so much like mine when I was planning mine and Rhett’s, only Rhett never participated like Soren is.
No one did, come to think about it, not a single pack member.
Certainly, no family was excited about our engagement or wanted to do this stuff with me.
I was so excited, and no one else was, not even Rhett.
And then it crashed and burned around me.
The thought of Rhett discovering our little secret scares me, especially when Maribel starts talking about publicity and official announcements, but it’s the thought of Soren calling it quits that frightens me more.
Soren’s mother waves at me across the table. She’s been prattling on about flower arrangements and seating charts, her voice a pleasant drone in the background of my internal turmoil. Now, she wants my input. Soren glances at me, his blue eyes filled with something I can’t decipher.
“The roses!” she exclaims, her voice filled with an alarming amount of excitement for someone discussing flowers. “Should we stick to the traditional red, or is white more your style?”
I glance at Soren, searching for some hint of what to say. But he’s impassive, his warm gaze suggesting nothing more than polite curiosity. With a suddenness that feels like a punch in the gut, I’m reminded that this isn’t our wedding.
I mumble something noncommittal about liking both colors and try to tune out the rest of the conversation.
The rest of the day plays out like a maddening echo of our breakfast. Soren’s mother, an effervescent woman with a disarming charm, bombards me with wedding magazines and fabric swatches.
I nod at the appropriate intervals, responding with neutral replies to her queries or telling her to decide.
She seems none the wiser to my lack of enthusiasm.
“We could have the reception in that beautiful garden your father used to love,” she suggests to Soren, who is not listening.
Maribel poring over a landscape photo in one of the many bridal magazines spread across the table, and Max huffs out a breath, bored.
The poor kid has been stuck with me for hours as she plans, and he plays by himself.
“What about the dress?” she gasps at some sudden thought. “Oh, dear, we haven’t even begun to think about that! I’ll have to make some calls.”
She hurries off to fetch her collection of bridal catalogs, leaving me alone with my thoughts and Soren’s disinterested gaze.
He’s been silent throughout this ordeal, offering me no comfort or help from his mother since he has been stuck in never-ending phone calls.
His indifference stings more than I care to admit as he waves his mother off.
It’s not long before she returns, an array of catalogs cradled in her arms. “I know it’s all so overwhelming, dear,” she says with an empathetic smile as she hands me one.
The cover showcases a radiant bride in an exquisitely tailored gown.
A lump forms in my throat as I recall my wedding dress. This feels cruelly ironic.
My heart grows heavier with each passing moment.
An hour later, I’m utterly exhausted from the charade. The scent of a thousand different flowers from the catalogs mingles with my perfume, making me light-headed. I swear if I need to scratch and sniff on more pages I might scream.
“Soren, shouldn’t you be providing some input, dear?” His mother chides gently. I steal a glance at him across the table. He’s immersed in an article on his phone, seemingly oblivious to our conversation.
He lifts his gaze from his screen and sighs.
“You know I trust your judgment, Mother. Whatever Bree wants.” He puts emphasis on my name as if reminding me to play my part as an enthusiastic bride-to-be.
I glare at him before seeing his lips tug at the corners.
This fucker is listening and enjoying watching me squirm at his mother’s enthusiasm. He finds it amusing!
“I’m bored,” Max states, and I agree with him. Luckily, for Max, he is saved by his grandfather, who stands.
“Me too, let’s go throw the ball outside,” Alaric says and Soren pays attention then like he is wishing he had the same idea so he could escape his mother.