I clicked my tongue and my horse picked up his pace. I was still half-hard for Anika, still fucking aching for her. But following her back to the abandoned stables where she kept her riding gear was way too risky—with the way I was feeling, I’d fucking rip the place down just to get to her again. Jacking off while I watched her change wasn’t going to fucking cut it.
Not now. I was the wolf that had tasted human blood and would never be the same again.
When I got back to the castle, the big farmhand who looked after the horses scratched his head as I approached. His name was Milos and I’d known him damned near my entire life. We knew each other so well that he didn’t stand on much pretense around me, which was just fine with me. All the bowing and titles got on my nerves. At least here at the stables, I had to put up with a minimum of that bullshit.
He wrinkled up his face and cocked his head, looking me up and down. It was only then that I realized I was shirtless. Christ. I’d been so deep in Anika that I hadn’t given myself a single fucking thought.
I dismounted and handed him the reins.
“Killed some highwaymen. Blood everywhere.”
He nodded knowingly. “Well done, Your Grace.”
I sized him up, looking at his shoulders and his chest. He wasn’t quite as big as me, but pretty fucking close.
“Give me that shirt.”
He unbuttoned it without question.
“Should warn you, I was mucking stalls. Might smell like horseshit. And pigshit. And cowshit. General shit.”
“Means you’re doing your job,” I said, slipping it on. “I appreciate it. Better be careful with this one,” I said, patting my horse. “Got spooked by the blood. I have two new shirts sent to you to replace this one.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. Glad you’re back safe,” he said, and led my horse through to the stalls.
Buttoning up the shirt as I walked, I made my way through the courtyard outside the stables and headed toward the main castle gates. There was all kinds of fucking hustle and bustle around me—carriages arriving, horses I didn’t recognize being groomed, people I’d never seen being escorted inside.
Then I remembered we had some big dinner tonight; my father had told me so over breakfast. I’m not sure if he told me what it was for, but if he did I wasn’t paying attention because Anika was sitting across from me, eating strawberries, licking her lips which made me deaf to anything else going on around me.
I growled to myself and tucked in my shirt. What I really wanted to do tonight was get shitfaced drunk and jack off while thinking about her. But apparently—a wagon load full of freshly plucked ducks passed me, heading for the kitchens—that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.
Coming at me was one of the king’s guards, the most elite of our troops. He flipped up his armored visor and nodded at me.
“Your Grace. Your father was asking after you.”
“Listen,” I said, adjusting my balls and sniffing hard. “I want your men to make a daily sweep of the woods for brigands. I just had a run in with four of the bastards about a half mile from the ruined palace. One is still alive.”
He worked his jaw off to the side, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll have them do it now, and again every day for the next week. That ought to send a stern message. And if my men find your survivor, they’ll make swift work of him.”
I lifted my hand to tell him to stop. “If he’s still alive, leave him. He’ll deliver the message to others to stay the fuck away.”
He nodded, gave me a firm handshake and headed off on his way, with armor and mail jangling, barking out sternly for his men.
As I thudded across the castle drawbridge, the guards cleared a path for me, and the crowds parted on either side of me as I walked. Whenever I was out in public, I kept my jaw high, my eyes hard, like I was thinking about things way fucking more important than whatever was going on around me.
I always was. I was always thinking about her, or looking for her, or waiting for her.
Fucking always.
She was my driving force, my north star, my anchor. My blessing and my fucking curse.
I’d long since stopped assigning guards to keep her in the castle. There was no point, since it would take several dozen out of their daily duties if they were going to be effective. Besides, even I had to admit that her independence was part of the appeal.
She was like a wildfire—any barrier I might try to put in her way would only make her burn hotter. The trick was to control her. And now that I’d tasted her fire for myself, controlling her was the only thing I wanted to do.