“Excuse me,” I said and continued to the vacant stalls at the very end. They were not tended to, old hay and some excrement left to rot. I set the cub down and grabbed a rake.
The stable hand appeared. “I really cannot—”
“I’m in need of some horse blankets, please.”
The tall and thin male blinked, scowling at me. Gripping his suspenders, he eyed me up and down with a sneer. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
I smiled and offered my hand. “What is your name?”
He made a face at my hand, then stomped away in his knee-high boots to get me what I needed.
Florian was waiting on the side of my bed when I exited the bathing room after washing away the blood and muck.
Hands clasped between his knees, he rubbed his thumbs together. The darker bristle upon his face made me even more curious about what he’d been doing in his time away from the manor, if he’d been too busy to groom himself.
Admittedly, I rather liked it.
The cub, of whom I’d decided to call Snow for now, was tucked within a stall. Henron, the stable hand, had thankfully found a salve and a bandage for her wounds.
“Does it give you satisfaction?” I frowned, and he said, “To defy me?”
Wearing only a towel, I went to stand before the fire at the end of the bed to assist in drying my hair. Defying him had not been for the enjoyment of it, though I could not deny that it did please me to leave him wanting for once.
Before I could pass him, my hand was snatched. A shocked laugh escaped as he pulled me between his knees.
It died when his searing midnight eyes climbed my body to meet mine.
“Hello, Majesty.”
His jaw ticked. “Florian.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been gone too long for me to feel that familiar with you,” I teased.
“I’ve had my tongue in your cunt and your drool on my neck,” he said with far too much ease. He smirked when my eyes widened. “If that’s not familiar, then please…” He clasped the back of my legs, hands slowly rising up my thighs, the towel taken with them. “Do tell me what is.”
“You’re awfully crude.”
“Do not pretend to mind.”
I raised a brow, but he was right. I didn’t mind at all. “And I do not drool in my sleep.”
His teeth flashed with a heart-thawing smile. “You do, and I’ve yet to wash my neck.”
“That’s…” My nose crinkled. “Rather unpleasant.”
“What is unpleasant, butterfly, is your defiance.” The towel was tugged to the floor, and I gasped as his hands roamed over my thighs and hips.
He stood, and in his absence, I’d almost forgotten his towering height and breath-robbing presence. His hands skimmed the curves of my breasts, one sliding my wet hair over my shoulder.
As the other hand wrapped around my throat.
Looming over me, he gently squeezed my neck and lowered his mouth to mine. “I should punish you for disobeying me.”
I swallowed, unsure if I should be frightened or aroused. For I was an even mixture of both.
His finger pressed upon my screaming pulse. “Especially in front of my people.”
I was tempted to ask what that punishment might entail, but when his lashes lifted with his eyes from my heaving breasts, the darkness within warned against it. Pheromones and his iced energy radiated in a vaporous heat, alluring and deadly.
It was on the tip of my tongue—an apology and a request for him to place that soft mouth on mine—when he dropped to his knees.
And pushed his mouth against my stomach with a low groan.
His heavier scruff tickled, coaxing a panted breath from me when he crouched lower. My thighs were gripped from behind. His fingertips bruised as he dug his nose and mouth into my core.
The sound that left him was animalistic.
I set my hands upon his shoulders, swaying slightly. “Florian…”
“Miss me, sweet creature?”
The desire to ask him where he’d been and why he’d left without warning—especially on what to do with his quiet home and ill-tempered staff—became a burn. But he’d chosen me to wed for a reason. He’d chosen me because I would be grateful enough for what he gave to let him be.
His teeth nipped my mound, and I yelped. He ordered, “Answer me.”
“Yes,” I confessed, then moaned when he kissed where he’d bitten.
His mouth dipped even lower, and after one lazy swipe through my core, he rose and licked his lips. His fingers brushed his mouth, but they failed to hide the pleased tilt when I reached for him and he evaded me.
It seemed this king I’d tied myself to enjoyed a little revenge.
He threw my earlier words back at me. “I’ll see you later, butterfly.” Then he closed the door on his way out.
Once again, Florian did not attend dinner.
I was more relieved than disappointed. For the teasing he’d given me had left a tight coil of painful need, and I wasn’t certain I was above apologizing for my defiance in order to have him remedy it.
I ate quickly, Olin glaring at me as I carried my plate from the dining room and down the hall. But I wasn’t going to the kitchen.
I headed outside, passing the stunned guards patrolling the grounds, and toward the stables.
Henron was still packing up for the evening, his face smudged with dirt and a piece of hay in his mouth. It bobbed with his question. “You’re going to feed the beast quail eggs?”
“And liver,” I said, skirting around him and marching to the rear stalls.
He trailed me with a light laugh. “Do you truly intend to keep the wolf?”
“I intend to let her heal before releasing her back into the woods.”
Henron returned to stacking hay bales as I greeted the cub who’d been sitting with her ears pricked, seemingly waiting for me.
Her rear wiggled as she approached the plate of food I set on the ground. She looked up at me, and at my nod, didn’t hesitate a moment longer before mopping the porcelain clean.
Henron leaned over the stall door, tapping his knuckles on the wood. “She won’t go, you know. Not now that you’ve altered her scent and given her a reason to stay.” He eyed the wolf and scratched his long nose. “And you cannot domesticate a wolf.” His apricot eyes conveyed what he knew I did not wish to hear.
She would need to be given a merciful death.
Florian’s warning about messing with the way of things came back to me. I sighed, knowing he’d been right. I knew then, and I’d done it anyway. Regardless, I protested weakly, “She would have died.”
Henron hummed. “Perhaps because she was supposed to, Princess.”
My nose scrunched at the endearment. Before I could tell him not to call me such a thing, he disappeared, presumably to retire for the night.
Snow looked at me with eager eyes, wanting more to eat.
“In the morning,” I promised and petted her soft head before checking her healing wounds.
Florian was in his rooms when I returned.
Like the rising of the sun minutes before the sky lightened, I could sense it—feel the energy reaching through the cracks in the stone of the manor.
I sat on the bed and stared down at the bedding, wondering if he would come to me while knowing he would not. Knowing that meant I should leave him alone.