"Fucking hell."
Gavriel Sterling ran a hand through his hair, absolutely not spying on a white-haired woman he had just met. It'd been two hours and he was still painfully hard.
Time for a cold shower. Goddamn.
On his way to his chambers, he heard Princess Agnes yelling from inside a room. The door was cracked. Naturally, he peeked inside. A tactical mistake in hindsight, because the image on the other side of the door would permanently replace the one of Serena on all fours with him thrusting from behind.
Agnes knelt on a chaise, sobbing, dagger in hand.
"I KNEW IT." She stabbed the cushion under her.
"He's mine." Stab. "MINE." Stab. "CUNT." Stab.
The sobs stopped, replaced with full-body-shaking laughter, then cut off abruptly. She stood. Slapped herself hard across the face. Once. Twice.
"Reset, Agnes. Reset."
Then she rolled her shoulders back, straightened, and returned the decorative dagger to its mount on the wall.
"What, Sterling? Never seen a woman redecorate?" she clipped.
Gavriel jumped at his last name like any self-respecting Gamma would.
She pushed past him like he was in her way and she didn't have time for stupid.
He watched her walk down the corridor, his brain rejecting whatever the hell he just saw. His erection was gone. Murdered alongside the cushion.
No cold shower needed. Agnes Viremont was the cure medical science never asked for.
✦✦✦
Twelve hours earlier....
He'd found her.
That was the first thought Serena had when she opened her eyes. She didn't know his name, rank, pack, or why he'd fought beside her in that clearing. But he kept his word.
Elara looked up with swollen eyes, then launched off the chair, landing in a starfish on top of her.
"Where are we, Elara?"
"Drakenfell." Elara sat up, grabbing something at the foot of the bed: a black training suit with the Drakenfell insignia on the shoulder and a cloak folded beneath it.
Serena examined the insignia. "We made it a lot further south than I realized."
The adjoining bath had hot running water. That alone told her this wasn't Viremont. She stood in the rainwater shower until the water ran clear and immediately felt better.
"You look like hell, by the way," Elara commented, zipping up the back of the Drakenfell training suit.
Serena rolled her eyes. "Still better-looking than you."
A man appeared at the doorway. "You're upright. Surprising, but I'll work with it." His eyes swept over Serena. "I'm Alaric Kestrel, Head Healer of Drakenfell."
She flashed him a grin. "Do I pass?"
"Barely." He turned and started walking. "Come, I'll give you a tour."
"Aren't you busy?" Serena asked, falling into step beside him.
"Extraordinarily," he answered flatly. "Prince Dexmon personally retrieved you twice, and left clear instructions that you were not to be left unattended until you were properly oriented."
At the words Prince Dexmon, her foot caught on the edge of a runner. She pitched forward and ate the floor.
✦✦✦
"The rumors said she was stunning. For once, the rumors were not exaggerating."
Serena turned to see a tall, muscular, and dangerously handsome man closing the distance between them with the confidence of a man who has never once been told 'no' by a woman or a mirror. His eyes openly assessed her from head to toe without shame or apology.
"Forgive the staring. It's hard not to when someone walks into a room like thunder wrapped in silk."
The man grinned. "Gavriel Sterling, Gamma of Drakenfell."
Serena blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the bluntness. Then instinct took over. She dipped her head and shoulders respectfully, and Elara mirrored the motion beside her without hesitation.
"Polite too," he said. "Men tend to forget themselves around that."
Serena met his gaze, unflinching. "Thank you, Gamma Sterling, for the flattery."
His expression turned wicked. "I am not flattering you. I am interested."
Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am going to start sedating people."
"Please start with him," Serena said.
He laughed once, low and appreciative. "Careful. Say things like that and I might decide I like you even more."
Dexmon rounded the corner and stalled, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. No one saw, except for Gavriel, who was entirely too distracted to care. He recovered quickly, because Dexmon Drakenfell was a man. Not a little boy seeing a girl for the first time. Mostly.
"Well," he said lightly. "I leave you alone for five minutes and you start trying to recruit chaos in the hallway. Bold strategy, Gav."
"Dex. Buddy. Pal. In my defense, the chaos introduced herself. I was just being polite."
"You have never been polite in your life."
Gavriel clutched his chest. "That hurts. I'm a picture of decorum. Tell him, Serena."
Dexmon let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Then he looked at Serena and the laugh didn't finish. He had not at all been prepared to see her standing there, composed and untouched by his authority.
"Prince Dexmon Drakenfell," he recovered smoothly, as if he hadn't just lost half a step over her. "Though we have already met in the forest."
Serena's lips twitched at that and she dipped her head. Elara copied a heartbeat later, chin lowered.
Dexmon turned slightly, angling himself just enough to place Serena at his side without touching her. But the message was clear. The hall resumed its quiet movement, the stares suddenly far more cautious than curious.
"You'll have to excuse us," Dexmon said.
"Dexmon," a woman's voice called from down the hall.
Serena's blood went cold. Her heart thudded and her body flooded with adrenaline. An automatic reflex, developed over four years.
Beside her, Elara inhaled sharply, hands trembling.
Serena gave her hand a brief squeeze. A we've survived worse squeeze. Neither girl needed to look to recognize that voice.
Agnes Viremont stood at the far end of the hall. Dark curly hair. A gown worth more than most people earned in a lifetime. For one terrible moment, Serena was back in chains, kneeling on stone floors while this woman walked past without breaking stride. This woman who viewed Serena like she was scum.
Agnes's eyes passed over her, then settled on Dexmon.
"I was not expecting you until tonight," Dexmon said evenly.
"Clearly." The single word carried enough ice to cool the corridor. She held Dexmon's gaze for three full seconds, then smiled. "Who is this?"
"A guest of Drakenfell," Dexmon answered.
"Guest. Is that what we're calling it now?" Agnes turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
Without even glancing at Serena, Dexmon followed Agnes, Gavriel falling into step behind him.
It hurt. Serena had no reason for it to, but it did. He was a prince and that was his betrothed, and she was a guest. That was the math.
Serena swallowed, not lifting her head until she heard their footsteps fade. Agnes hadn't recognized her or Elara. Yet.
They were almost out of the corridor when Gavriel turned around and called back down the hall. "I'll be back for you, Serena. I'm thinking wine, a proposal, and a future where you're a Gamma's mate."
Two floors above, an Alpha King stood between a portal home and a scent he couldn't stop breathing.
His wolf was howling and heat rushed to his groin without warning. The same scent that had been driving him crazy for eighteen hours.
Every rational thought told him to walk through. His boots disagreed.
He turned, walking to the gallery railing and that's when he overheard it.
"The entire damn castle is losing their mind over one wolfless runt."
"Fae blood, mark my words. She acts like she don't like the attention, but she does."
Boots thudded in rhythm as the pair turned the corner below.
"Fae my ass," the first grunted. "Her scent is a mating call and we all know it."
The second guard rolled his neck with a loud pop. "Is she the commander's mistress?"
"Too low-born for that," the first answered. "The healers' wing said long term silver poisoning. There's only one kingdom that chains women in silver and it ain't Drakenfell"
"That means she's a felon or refugee whore," the second said
"I'll take her as my mate," the second chimed in. "I don't care what she was."
Both slowed for half a step, looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
Their voices faded down the hall.
The Alpha king sniffed one last time, and the scent was gone. He turned and walked through the portal.
Home greeted him the same way it always did. Quiet. Empty.
He waited for the relief to come. It didn't.