Page 66 of Rogue Alpha Prince
I finally run out at the clearing, like the one where Cain pinned me down a week ago. He’s there, standing with his teeth bared and blood dripping from his canines.
There is a dead wolf at his paws, lying down like a chewed rug.
‘Unwanted,’ Cain mind-links me for the first time ever; his sexy, deep voice rings inside my head so we can talk even in wolf forms. It hurts a little, but only for a moment.
‘You mean the new kind of rogues? What was he doing down here?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care.’ He’s sniffing around.
‘Why did you kill him? Wouldn’t it be smarter to question him first?’
‘It would if I was alone in the woods…’
‘Why?’ It sounds stupid, he’s a prince and needs to be safe… ‘Oh, oh. Are you afraid for my safety? You know I’m a general,right?’
Cain shifts into a human again, and I follow suit.
“Don’t generals just sit back and command?” he asks with arms crossed and blood dripping from his chin.
I try not to flinch. I used to have nightmares about this legendary, blood-covered, ruthless Rogue Prince—long before I met him and could put a face to the person.
“Even if that was true, to become a general, I had to be an officer first—and as a vagina owner, I had to work for it twice as hard.”
“But you are also a King’s daughter—” he says, crouching with a tilted head in front of his victim.
“Tell that to my cousin Matt, whose dad was the previous general and underestimated me because I’m just a princess. Oh, sorry, you can’t. I cut out his tongue.”
“Really?” He turns to me with an impressed expression.
Of course, he is impressedby dismemberment. But to be truthful to myself, I hate that I did that.
“They made us fight for the position, and he had too much to say about fighting little girls,” I shrug my shoulders, trying not to dwell on this oppressed memory, and concentrate on Cain’s movements instead.
He’s acting strange. All the head tilting, naked crouching, fingers touching the forest floor… he starts murmuring something, but despite total silence and my werewolf super hearing, I can’t tell what he’s saying.
“Ah!” I scream at the sudden rustle of trees and wings, when all the birds in the forest fly up.
“What the fuck, you are a werewolf,” he hisses with a facepalm.
All admiration is gone, I guess.
“Sorry, I got scared of your witchy bird summoning!” I hiss back. “What even was that?!”
“Nothing, let’s shift again and go back.”
I look at him doubtfully, but he’s adamant. So I give in, shift, and run back with his giant black wolf by my side.
At the edge of the forest, where we left our clothing, we shift to our human forms again.
“Can you finish packing us? I mean, you have to, if you still want to go today—” he explains, while pulling his joggers up his thighs.
“Of course.” I’m tying my robe. “Go and do whatever you have to. The safety of the pack is more important. I’ll finish the packing.”
He looks at me with raised brows, and it takes me a few moments to realize I still have to address him properly when we are outside our room.
It’s a miracle he started letting me address him normally, at least in the bedroom.
“Your Highness,” I bow and turn to enter the castle, but he catches my hand and pulls me to him.
