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They left me in here with Prince Garrick Darkheart, but not alone. The handful of guards is hardly subtle. Part of me feels like the guys are being over protective, but the other part of me is happy for the extra protection, because I have no idea what this guy is capable of. His sheer size alone would be frightening to most people, even though I don’t exactly find it frightening. His size does something to me that I can’t quite figure out. It’s not fear though.
The thing is, my instincts whisper that he won’t hurt me. That he’s more a jokester than a fighter. I mean, the way he calmly set Prince Drogo off was amusing, and he’s definitely got undeniable charisma.
The guards track his every movement as he glances away from the window, and his gaze falls on me. I tense as he grins, our gazes colliding, and then he saunters across the room and sits down at the couch beside me. It’s strange. It’s kind of hard to breathe for reasons I don’t understand. Maybe because he’s taking up so much of the space, and his giant arm is resting behind me.
Somehow, it feels a little intimate. I swear the wolves wouldn’t sit this close to me unless they were driven there by hot pokers. Or after they fall asleep. Then, they’re all over me.
“For a group of men so against me being near you, they don’t seem to have an issue leaving you in here with me,” he jokes.
He’s not wrong. My wolves are confusing as hell. They don’t want to touch me, but then they do want to touch me. They don’t seem happy in our marriage, but they don’t want Prince Darkheart to marry me. I swear, they need to figure out what they want and then tell me.
I realize Prince Darkheart is waiting for a response, so I focus back on the conversation. “Right?” I shrug awkwardly. Because what else am I supposed to say?
He leans a little closer and inhales deeply. It’s almost like a sigh. I keep my eyes forward because for some reason I want to stare at him, to take him in and get a better understanding of this man, and that seems like a very bad idea.
Despite knowing that, I glance at him. He smiles at me without any hesitation. This one is different. Maybe it’s because he talks to me and not at me. Maybe it’s because he actually includes me in conversations. Or maybe it’s because when he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s glad to be near me.
I don’t know, but there’s something unique about him, and I kind of want to find out what. Not by marrying him, of course, because I already have enough problems with the three husbands I have, but having a conversation with him wouldn’t hurt. Would it?
His arm and body radiate warmth, and I know he’s going to speak before he does. “You know, Tara, being around you right now is like finding the quiet in the storm.”
Huh? What do you reply to that? Thank you? “Thanks. I’m usually the storm, so that’s nice to hear.”
He laughs, a sound that’s deep and rich. A sound that seems to shake the couch, the very air, with the strength of it. He leans even closer, his warmth enveloping me. “You’re different from what I expected, Tara. In a good way.”
A good way? Was he expecting someone like my mom, like the wolf shifters did? And does that mean he likes who I am? That can’t be right.
I shift uncomfortably, my heart racing. “And what were you expecting?”
His smile widens, “Someone less…intriguing.”
Intriguing? No one has ever called me that in my life. I’m certain of it.
I laugh nervously, smoothing the wrinkles from my pants. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”
“Yes, you are,” he agrees, his hazel eyes intense. “And I’m looking forward to seeing even more of you.”
“Oh?” I cast him a funny glance. “Based on what the princes were saying, I kind of doubt you’ll be spending more time around me.”
He raises a cocky brow. “I have no intention of going anywhere, but I’d like to see them try to keep me from you.”
“Prince Darkheart…”
“It’s Garrick to you.” He flashes a sexy smile. “If you’re going to be my wife, we need to stop with the formalities.”
My heart’s racing. “Prince Darkheart–”
He laughs. “You don’t think we’ll be married.”
My cheeks feel hot. “It seems improper to call you by your first name when we hardly know each other.”
“Tara,” he says, his tongue caressing my name. “Nothing that happens between us will be improper. You’re essentially my betrothed.”
This guy is cocky as hell.
Not sure what to say, I don’t respond, letting the silence go on until the tension builds so high that it seems to crackle. This… Garrick has to know that I belong to the wolves and that even him sitting this close to me borders on inappropriate. Right? Or does he just not care?
After a moment, he starts talking again, his smile gentle. “Tell me, Tara, how’s life with the wolves? Do you spend most of your nights baying at the moon?”
