AMELIA
The engine roars to life as Nickolas’s Range Rover glides out of the castle gates, leaving the isolated mountain abode behind. I gaze out of the backseat window, watching the castle shrink in the distance. Our destination: Lycan City, as we referred to it, back home.
Nestled in the city below, it’s the home for most lycans, and today, I find myself accompanying Nickolas on his annual visit to the town. The shock from this morning still lingers after Beatrice dropped the unexpected news. However, it presents an incredible opportunity for escape. I know Nickolas may have taken measures to prevent me from getting away, but I doubt I won’t be able to slip away while we explore the city.
The burning question of why he insisted on my company also looms, but I refrain from asking. Past encounters have shown that any inquiry would only be met with his intimidating glare. But the curiosity within me also longs to confront him about why he chose to spread the lie throughout the entire kingdom that I had a miscarriage two weeks ago when, in fact, I was still a virgin. I figured that’s why he pretended we were sleeping together, and I would have never guessed it.
I’m still attempting to piece together how I bled, even though I wasn’t on my period, and even if I were, the amount of blood on my bed that day was too excessive to be menstrual. My suspicion points to the involvement of a witch. At least I now understand why I experienced vomiting and slept like a pregnant woman over the past week. My intuition was correct in assuming that he had poisoned me because, indeed, he did. The poison induced vomiting and weakened my wolf, compelling me to sleep through the day. It’s evident that Nickolas went to great lengths to fabricate my miscarriage, but the motive behind his actions eludes me. I find myself itching to ask him as he casually types on his phone, seemingly oblivious to my presence beside him.
I observe his attire, noting his usual professional dress, accentuated today by the well-fitted suit jacket. When he turns to face me, I quickly avert my gaze. I sense his green eyes piercing into the side of my face, but I resist the urge to meet his gaze. Throughout the car ride, I’ve been attempting to soothe Marie, as our close proximity seems to be affecting her-and perhaps me, too, to some extent. His scent permeates the air, and I can feel his body heat in the limited space between us. My knees instinctively draw together as I imagine the sensation of that warmth against my bare skin when… I halt my thoughts abruptly as I suddenly sense him moving closer, bridging the gap between us. Startled, I meet his gaze as he opens the door and instructs me to exit. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized we had arrived.
Stepping out of the car, I notice we’re at a hotel. Nickolas doesn’t wait for me, confidently striding towards the entrance, exuding dominance and power with every step. I quickly follow suit, running to catch up with him.
Entering the hotel, I find Nickolas already heading for the elevator. I rush to join him, stepping in before the doors close, and we begin our ascent. Throughout the elevator ride, Nickolas seems oblivious to my presence, engrossed in a phone call with Eric.
The elevator dings, and we exit together. His arm brushes against mine, sending a jolt through me, courtesy of the mate bond. At times like this, I resent the mate bond. We walk to the last room on the floor, and he effortlessly opens it with a keypad I didn’t know he possessed.
Stepping into the room, I’m captivated by its elegance. Despite my father owning a chain of hotels, the allure of a well-designed suite still impresses me. Nickolas opens the first door to the right, disappearing inside. My eyes roam across the tasteful furnishings-the nude couch adorned with blue throw pillows, the coffee table holding a solitary phone. Contemplating whether to call my family, I shake my head, choosing not to risk Nickolas discovering their whereabouts.
Minutes pass, and Nickolas is still absent. Our bags arrive, but he doesn’t return to provide instructions on my room. Deciding to tempt fate a bit, I switch on the TV to pass the time while waiting for Nickolas. A whimsical idea strikes me, and I grab the phone, indulging in a bit of luxury by ordering food and wine.
“Sometimes I believe you have a death wish,” Marie remarks, eyeing me skeptically as I take a sip of the wine.
“I know,” I reply, a sly smile playing on my lips as I savor a bite of cheese. “I highly doubt he would go to the extremes over some food and wine, and even if he does, at least I had a decent last meal.”
“True,” Marie chuckles, clearly entertained by my audacity.
“Allowing me to enjoy good food and wine right now is the least he could do after the hell he put me through this past week,” I add, my tone a mixture of defiance and amusement.
“Also true,” Marie agrees.
Finishing my food, I doze off watching a Korean drama, only to wake up when I hear the door open.
“Your majesty,” I utter, sitting up on the couch and hastily wiping my mouth for any signs of drool. However, Nickolas pays me no heed, proceeding to where our bags were and dragging them into the room. Just before he disappears entirely, he utters something.
“You can enter now,” he declares, slamming the door behind him.
Slowly, I approach the door and cautiously step into the room. Nickolas is engrossed in sorting through his bags and pulling out clothes before heading to the bathroom. My eyes wander, taking in the expansive bed adorned with crisp white sheets and covers.
Turning to my left, I’m met with a breathtaking sight-the cityscape illuminated with countless lights and towering skyscrapers. A gasp escapes me as I walk over to the bed, unable to tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing view. It seems that accompanying Nickolas isn’t turning out as bad as I initially thought. Despite my reservations about joining him, the stunning view and the indulgence in good food and wine have pleasantly surprised me. I’m confident the food wasn’t poisoned, considering no one would dare harm Nickolas.
My thoughts are interrupted as Nickolas steps out of the bathroom dressed in pajama bottoms and a vest. Considering it’s not cold, why is he opting for a vest? If anything, the temperature suggests he should be shirtless.
Deciding to focus on my own matters, I mind my business and head to the bathroom to shower, equipped with the most decent nightgown that Beatrice managed to pack in my suitcase. I step out of the bathroom once I’m done with my hair still wet.
“Dry your fucking hair before you come to bed,” he commands from the bed. Seated against the headboard, one arm casually behind his head. I wondered if we would be sharing the bed, and it seems I just got my answer.
I towel-dry my hair as much as possible and join him in bed. I rest my back against the headboard, pulling the covers over my legs. Nervousness twists in my belly; it’s the first time we’re sharing a bed. I’m well aware that nothing is likely to happen, but the proximity sparks a tingling sensation. Close yet far, I can’t shake the uncertainty.
Nickolas turns off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The sound of covers rustling makes me tense, unsure of what might happen, even though the chances are slim to none.
A yelp escapes me as I feel my ankle grabbed, and my body is forced to lie down on the bed. I realize I might have been wrong about nothing happening. My heart pounds as I wonder what he’s about to do. While I don’t think he’ll force himself on me, I remain clueless about his intentions.
Swallowing hard, I feel him hovering above me, and I attempt to speak, “Your majes…” but my words are cut off as I sense his warm hands pushing my short nightgown up and over my head.
“Why are you taking off my clothes?” I ask, reaching for my nightgown, but it’s gone, leaving me in only my panties without a bra. The lack of light in the room conceals my body from Nickolas. It even baffles me how he seems to know where to touch me. I’m still not worried he would sleep with me, thanks to the comment he made last time I was naked in front of him, but it doesn’t mean I am okay with him seeing me naked, either. I also don’t understand what he is doing. Why does he need me naked?
Switching my eyes to my werewolf vision, I’m blessed with the breathtaking sights of his biceps filled with veins as one of his hands rests against the headboard. I lick my lips, fixating on the enticing view, and a sudden heat envelops me, prompting me to fan myself with my palm to cool down.
Nickolas moves to close the gap between us, but I stop him. “What are you doing?” I ask, placing my hand on his chest as he moves toward me. I pause, relishing the sensation of it under my skin. I exhale as a shiver runs down my spine. Oh, Heaven!
I’ve completely forgotten the initial reason for placing my hand there in the first place. Lost in the moment, I continue to relish the feeling under my fingertips, gliding my hand down to his abs. However, I halt when I feel a rumble against my palm.
“Amelia,” he says, a low throat growl vibrating through him. “I am no werewolf, but I can fucking smell your lust. Keep your hormones in check.”
Embarrassment reddens my cheeks. I hate the mate bond. “I’m not hot for you,” I lie through my teeth, quickly withdrawing my hand from his chest.
“If that’s what you like to tell yourself, that’s your fucking business,” he retorts, moving away from above me. I turn to face him, but he quickly turns my head back.
“Face there,” he commands, pointing in the opposite direction to him.
“Okay,” I comply and wait, my heart racing in anticipation. I inhale sharply as I feel those calloused hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him. My bare back makes contact with Nickolas’s solid front, and I find myself melting against him as his intoxicating scent envelops my senses. The desire to turn around and face him surges within me, but a low growl freezes me in my position, causing goosebumps to spread across my skin. I instinctively pull my knees together and redirect my gaze to the ceiling, a mix of anticipation and hesitation in the charged air.
“By now, you should know we still need to keep up the charade of us fucking. Just because you had a miscarriage doesn’t mean we would stop. This is the only way you can have my scent on you by tomorrow, so stay still while it clings to your skin,” he explains, his words heating my skin as his breath fans my neck.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly.
The desire to tell him that his scent will vanish after my bath tomorrow lingers on the tip of my tongue, yet I hold back. A conflicting part of me yearns to be in his arms at this moment, and I let that desire silence my words.
As the minutes pass, my skin seems to scorch with an intensity that challenges my restraint. It takes every ounce of willpower not to succumb to the urge to turn around and gaze at him with eyes filled with longing. Gradually, I find it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. I don’t resist as my eyelids surrender to the embrace of sleep, the scents and sensations of the moment lingering as I drift into slumber.