WREN
I was breathing heavily by the time we got the fourth floor, inwardly cursing
the Matron for doing this to me. I'd never exercised a day in my life, so I knew I was
out of shape.
Perhaps a few days of working for the Prince was what I needed to build some
muscles. I couldn't hold in my snort at the thought.
The Prince stopped, turned to me. My eyes remained on the ground, but my
heart started to race.
"What is so funny?"
"Uh, I was thinking about something." —then as an afterthought— "your
highness."
"I see. And do you wish to share it with everyone else?"
I almost whimpered a "yes". That was how alluring his voice was. Instead, I
flushed and looked away.
He stared me down for a few more seconds before continuing the walk. The
entire wing was spotless, and I sighed in relief. I wouldn't have to be so thorough
with the cleaning.
He stopped at his door, and I could have sworn he was glaring holes into it. Is
this where he spent his childhood? All alone in this huge wing?
"Everyone was happy to hear you were returning," I said, trying to ease the
tension in his shoulders. I had no idea why I even cared. He was an ass.
He scoffed. "They don't know me."
"They don't have to," I pushed as I handed him the room key. "They missed
their Prince."
He gave me a look. "I can assure you they did not. The idea of me, perhaps.
Nobody in this Pack knows me."
And he sounded angry about it. Sounded like it killed him.
"They will now. It's why you're here."
My eyes remained on the ground as he opened the door and walked inside.
The guards hurried to put down his bags before rushing out. I suppose he was
intimidating to them too.
I rushed to open the curtains, put some air in the room, while he sat on the
bed and typed away on his phone.
Phones and cars were a luxury I could not afford. Not that it mattered. I didn't
need them. What with being stuck in the Castle 24/7.
I dragged his boxes to the closet, and with a brush of my finger, I confirmed
that it was clean. Then I opened the box, and started to arrange his clothes inside,
using the hangers already there.
The room remained silent as I worked, tension rolling off him in waves. When
I couldn't take it anymore, I zipped his now empty box, and opened the other one,
laying it on the ground.
"Your mother was worried you'd hate her. The King had to pacify her the
whole time we stood there waiting for you."
"If you think I need these things you're saying to me, I assure you I do not."
—he paused, stopped typing— "and I do not hate her."
"You sure made it seem like you did," I mumbled, hanging the last of his
clothes. He only had a fraction of the number of clothes Caius owned. I wondered if
he'd like to keep it that way.
"What was that you said?" His voice came to a deathly low, and I pretended
like I wasn't scared. But I didn't dare repeat myself. As an Alpha, he had enhanced
hearing. I know he heard me.
Instead, I carried his toiletries and cosmetics into the bathroom. His room was
far bigger than Caius', unsurprisingly so, but the bathroom was about the same size.
With white paint and tiles, golden shower heads, bath, sink, and every other iron in
the place. A sharp contrast with the darkness of his room.
I hoped it was repainted to this just before he returned. Because I couldn't
imagine being a kid and waking up in this kind of room. Black paint, black tiles,
silver coloured wooden tables, chairs, curtains bearing the crest of the Blackthorn
pack; a dark wolf with blazing eyes and a burning rose in its mouth.
His bed took most of the space, draped with silky silver linen.
"Are you finished?" He asked coldly. "I'd like to freshen up now, if you'll let
me."
I took a deep breath. He's a Prince, Wren. Not the one who has your heart. A
Crowned Prince. We do not blow up on Crowned Princes.
"Would you like a cup—"
He sighed. "I just want to—"
"of tea. A cup of tea." Did his fancy royal school teach him nothing about
manners?
He bristled and narrowed his eyes at me. The worst he could do was request
another Chamber maid. I would be fucking ecstatic.
"Get out of my room."
"Gladly," I murmured and stormed out, slamming the door loud enough to
rattle my bones.
...
Dinnertime was even worse. I knocked on his door at least five times before he
told me to "come in." He didn't spare me a glance as he stared into his floor length
mirror.
"My buttons," was all he said.
I took another deep breath and walked to his front. His toned chest and
stomach didn't surprise me. I already knew he was hot, but I suppose my cheeks
didn't.
Because they fucking heated up as I pushed his buttons into a hole. There
seemed to be thousands of them, and by the time I was done, the smell of burnt roses
had stolen all of my sanity, leaving me lightheaded.
Aerin would have been better at this than I was. She was a Beta. She could
resist this man, and she wouldn't even want to. I couldn't.
I couldn't.