A Royal Heartbreak (The Moretti Werewolf 2)

Her hunch paid off when she saw Misty walk so swiftly past her the other woman probably didn’t even see her. Seizing her chance, she looked at her companion meaningfully before saying out loud, “The prince told me in no uncertain terms that he would do everything to get the human girl back.”

Misty faltered in her steps.

“He wants to mate with her this time?” Ivory’s lady-in-waiting asked.

“Oh no. He just wants her to win leadership of the Lyccan Council,” Ivory drawled, savoring every word that dropped from her lips, knowing that it would draw blood. “Even if it means lying and fooling her again.”

Chapter Six

Someone was knocking on her door---in the middle of the night. She had been unable to sleep the whole night, unable to forget Ivory’s words. Once she had ignored such warnings and where had that gotten her? She had trusted in Domenico completely, and that only ended up breaking her heart.

The knock became more insistent. Fearing it was Domenico, Misty slowly went down and looked through the peephole. It was Lysander.

She quickly unlocked her door. “What’s wrong?”

Everything was wrong – with her. For her. Misty looked like a wreck. Her hair was a complete mess, her eyes were swollen and red, her face blotchy. But somehow, she still managed to look like a delightful wreck in his eyes. Somehow, Misty tempted him even more this way, making Lysander want to make her cry even harder but this time because she couldn’t bear the pleasure of his touch.

“Lysander?”

Fuck. Trying to get his erection in control, Lysander managed a smile for Misty. “May I come in?”

“Now?” It didn’t feel right, letting another man come inside her house at this time of the night.

He snapped his lace fan open then raised a brow at her. “Were you already sleeping?”

The sight of that pretty lace fan relaxed Misty, reminding her once again that even though Lysander Allard was one of the most beautiful men in the world, he was still g*y. She stepped back with a sheepish smile. “Obviously, I wasn’t and you’re g*y enough to know why.”

Lysander turned to close the door for her and as he did, he caught sight of something in the darkness. His eyes gleamed. So that was how the prince wanted to play the game then? Interesting…and Lysander knew just what to do to make things even more interesting.

As Misty led him to the living room, he casually pulled the blinds partially open, as if to study the moonlit surroundings outside. “This Alliance has made me remember just how hard our ancestors worked to rebuild our race after the Great War,” he murmured.

“I’m really sorry about what happened to your family,” she mumbled, wishing she could say more but knowing words would never be enough to take away the pain of losing one’s family.

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He swung back to face her, leaving the blinds open behind him, thus allowing the prince to see inside the house.

“Would you like some tea?” She didn’t make the mistake of offering him coffee, knowing how they preferred their food and drinks naturally sweet.

“Yes, please.” He took a seat on the floral cushion, taking pleasure meanwhile at the sight of Misty preparing his tea. His mind tempted him with images of Misty doing the same thing, in his house, na**d except for an apron but Lysander swiftly pushed those thoughts away. Now was not yet the time to let the prince know the truth about him. Not just yet at least.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Misty said as she put the tray down on the center table. Looking at Lysander, she couldn’t help but smile and forget her troubles for a while. He was dressed at the most casual she had seen him, but his “casual” look was still a lot frillier than most. It was not g*y specifically but it just had a lot of lace in it, like a real-life Ken doll.

Lysander snapped his fan closed as she began serving tea. He didn’t bother hiding his surprise as he remarked, “You have star fruit?” It was an exotic fruit in the human world, and one that his race prized.

She nodded, confused. “Sir Belmont always gives me some when he comes back from his trip.”

Sir Belmont, the Grinch of their race, the one who infamously swore to burn all his wealth on his deathbed rather than give it away to anyone? That Sir Belmont?

Lysander cleared his throat. “I see.” Actually, he didn’t but he was going to look into this as soon as he could. He had never heard of Misty having any connection with the old curmudgeon, and maybe even if he did he would not have believed it. There was really more to this human girl than met the eye, Lysander considered, looking at Misty with a narrowed gaze.

She caught him staring. “What is it?”

He lied smoothly, “Nothing. I was just wondering how to tell you I have a shoulder for you to cry on if you want to talk about…” He trailed off delicately.

She sniffed. “You’re a lot more sympathetic than Daryl, I’ll give you that.” Her other g*y friend, upon learning what happened in the ballroom and what she had overheard Ivory saying, simply told her to talk it out with Domenico.

“Do you really think he’s doing all these things just to get you back for the pack’s sake alone?” Daryl had asked.

It was a question she didn’t want to answer, not even to herself. If she did, Misty was afraid the alternative would be even more terrifying. It would mean that he might just be telling the truth, and she wasn’t willing to risk her heart again that way.

“Misty?”

She blinked, refocusing on Lysander with an effort. “I’m sorry. I was just…” Misty stopped and took a deep breath. And then she said in one quick burst of speech, “I’m so afraid to trust him again.”

The chance he had been waiting for finally arrived, and Lysander took it without a qualm. Keeping his movement slow and unthreatening, he went to the other side, taking a seat next to Misty. He clasped her hand. “I can only imagine what you’re going through, Misty. I know it’s confusing – especially with the kind of man Domenico Moretti is. He’s perfect in every way. It’s hard for any woman to think she deserves to be at his side.”

Lysander was stating out loud her every fear, and she could only nod, silently grateful that he wasn’t beating around the bush like the others did. Her family, her friends, all of them thought Domenico had been the fool to lose her, but a part of her felt the opposite. A part of her believed that their separation was inevitable because she never did deserve to have someone like Domenico.