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Opal
I woke in a fog, the silken waters of sleep peeling away like a soft sheet being pulled down my body.
An ache, dull and tempered by healing hands, lingered in both arms. When I peered at them, daylight streaming in through the windows beyond the bed and pushing my eyelids closed, I saw nothing but lightly stained bandages.
A low whine followed me into another dreamless sleep.
When I woke, the stars were out, the moon glazing over the beast prowling in circles at the end of my bed.
The white-furred giant made it five paces before needing to slink into a narrow turn and then paced again. I watched him, mesmerized by the liquid grace of each powerful step. Those paws, the muscle in his legs, he could stomp a hole right through the floor if he wanted to.
But it was the wings that stole my breath. The fur upon them was so light they appeared leathery at first glance. The hair grew dense toward the edges then spread into creamy feathers. They rustled, those giant wings, tucked close to his side but occasionally shifting when he released a huffed breath.
Needing some water, I pushed up onto my elbows and nearly choked when I set the glass down to find the beast stalking toward the side of the bed. Those eyes were the same cerulean blue, drinking me in, unblinking as he folded himself into a sitting position next to where I laid.
His snout was canine, larger than my head, but the horns that curled out into harsh bends behind his furred ears were like nothing I’d ever seen on a creature before. They shone, a deep glittering bronze, both sharper than blades at each severely pointed end.
It was said that the firstborn son or daughter of the king would bear horns. A feature that set them apart from the rest of their kin. A crown for the alpha of all beasts.
The king of wolves tilted that giant head, and finally, he blinked.
I blinked back, then realized he was waiting. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I soon wondered if this was his way of asking if I was settled enough with his appearance for him to come closer when he released another huff, dark nostrils flaring as he lifted a paw and let it thump to the floor.
I swallowed, unsure yet also certain I wanted him closer.
And that was always the problem with this male. I feared I’d forever find myself stuck someplace between want and hesitation.
Then I remembered. Tulane.
I lowered to the bed and faced the opposite wall, ignoring his low whine.
Another day passed, my limbs too stiff and achy for me to endure more than a trip to the bathing chamber.
Still in his beast form, Dade continued with his pacing of the room, sometimes choosing to lay upon the furs on the floor, his giant snow tufted tail swishing while he slumbered.
His eyes flashed open, and I frowned, laying the book I’d been trying to read on the bedding next to me. A knock sounded seconds later, Dade’s snout in the air as he scented who it was, then growled low, as if a
He closed the door behind him, a smirk upon his full lips as he eyed his king. “Not tired of playing guard hound yet, my king?”
Dade growled harsh enough for his lips to peel back over gleaming white fangs.
Scythe, still smiling, tucked his hands inside his pant pockets. “Relax, I’m just here to inform you that your dear uncle has finally woken. He suffered a broken neck.” Scythe’s attention crawled slowly to me. “But he’ll live.”
Dade rose, quicker than I’d have thought something of that size could move, and began to pace again, this time slower, as though he were pondering something.
“Serrin,” I said, forcing my eyes from Dade to Scythe and away from the memory of a blood-hazed dungeon. “Did he end up delivering the, uh…”
“The package?” Scythe finished for me. I nodded, and he watched me for a moment, then released a rough breath and leaned back against the door. His black tunic, lined with crimson stitching, flattened against his hard chest as though the heavy fabric were crafted to move with him like air. “No, it’s been destroyed.”
Something in those words told me that he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the waste, but that he would not dispute it.
I nodded once more, curling some of my hair behind my ear as the memory of each pinching loss, feathers plucked as though they were brambles amongst skirts, rippled over me in a cold wave.
“He hasn’t shifted back,” I said, partly curious as to why and also wanting to fill the tense silence. To divert his attention someplace else. “Is there a reason?”
Scythe read the question I didn’t ask, is something wrong? And that curl of his lips returned.
“His senses are better in his baser form,” he said. “All of ours are, but his, well, they are unrivaled.” His smirk broadened into a dazzling smile. “Get used to him, swan. He won’t return until he’s ready.”
For the remainder of the day, I mulled over that, and when di
Instead of eating at my bed as I usually did, I set it at the small table in the corner on the far side of the room. The space between the nightstand and the bookshelves was cramped, and I didn’t delude myself into thinking the king would fit on the chair opposite me even in his Fae form.
But there was enough space between the bed and the shelves, the white furs he’d napped upon between the watching beast and me, for him to come closer if he so wished and eat something.
Unsure if he’d shift back or not, I set his plate on the ground. The king didn’t so much as look at it, bright eyes never leaving me. His tail flicked behind him, those eyes moving to my plate and then back to mine, a spark of impatience within.
He wanted me to eat.
That made two of us. My arms trembled a little as I removed my cutlery from the tray and cut into the juicy slice of lamb. Dade’s tail stopped its swishing as I chewed, and after a few more mouthfuls of green beans and meat, I set my cutlery down and stared at him.
I hadn’t seen him eat once in the days we’d been sequestered in my rooms. Of course, he might have done so while I’d been asleep, but I highly doubted he’d have quit his brooding to make time for it.
His eyes narrowed, and I said, “You need to eat too.” They narrowed more, and I smirked. “I won’t be eating another bite unless you do.”
He snarled, the harsh grumble raising the hair upon my now steady limbs.
I didn’t relent, but I did pluck up his plate of food from the floor and cut the bone from the meat. Then I sliced the lamb into four large pieces and motioned for the king to come to me.
We both stilled.
An order. I’d given the monster of Nodoya an order, and while in his beast form at that.
My breath sat tight in my throat. Dade’s head cocked as though he were amused as he considered me.
My shoulders sagged when he didn’t move, and I tried a different approach. “Please.” The whispered word broke a little, surprising us both. But then he moved.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, mine never leaving his, the king’s giant body swayed with each powerful, lazy step he took across the carpet. I kept still, so still I wasn’t sure I was breathing, as his snout rose higher than my forehead, tilting downward for his gaze to meet mine over the long muzzle.
His scent was more potent in this form—smuggling inside my every extremity and locking up each muscle as I wondered if one large bite would tear my head clean from my shoulders.