Page 2 of Stealing Amy (Disciples 2)

But it is a lie. I lied so much. I'm not a saint, but of course, I am a virgin. I'm still young, and I've been waiting for my true mate!

Rogue Prince won't be able to tell the difference anyway. It's not medieval times to pretend you can check it. I just have to act confident enough to fool him. No problem, I can be confident.

He glances at me with an unreadable look, but I'm not worried about the consequences of that lie at all. There's not any, because he'll never be able to tell.

There are no consequences except for my dignity—virgin or not. Talking about your sexual life in front of so many people you should not talk about sex with ever at all, is just the icing on the cake here.

I can live with that as long as we strike a deal that would benefit all werewolves everywhere.

Now, looking at my mate—knowing he will actually be the only one I'll ever have sex with—I suddenly regret not sleeping around while I still had a chance. Just to not give him the satisfaction of having me in that special way, I guess.

I could have had my first sex with some caring, kind, and handsome guy that I liked—I think, with a growing angriness inside of me.

Well, at least Rogue Prince is handsome. I have to give himthat. Too handsome, actually. I am pretty sure that, objectively speaking, he is better-looking than I am. At least if I have no makeup on. Whatever. It's not the end of the world to have sex with someone that attractive—

Wait, why are they staring at me again?

"Excuse me, My Lords?" I realize someone must have asked me a question. I lean my head slightly in fake submission, second-guessing choosing the 'lords’ word to address them.

“What were you thinking about?” asks the Rogue Prince, completely ignoring my title, or any royal social norms, as if he was a king himself.

I bow again mockingly.

“How handsome you are, Your Highness,” I almost snort with laughter when I say it, but stop myself early enough to politely mark it as a cough.

Maybe not early enough…

Rogue Prince takes his sword out with inhuman speed and puts the end of its cold blade under my chin, bringing my face up with the force of it.

Our royal guards react immediately, raising their weapons, but not soon enough. He would have killed me already if he wanted, and we all know it.

“Don’t worry, guys, my future husband just likes it rough,” I say defiantly, looking into the dark and emotionless navy-blue eyes of my true mate.

I banter, because apparently, I don’t know any better.

My dad facepalms, abandoning his strictly royal appearance for a moment. Then somehow decides to turn my sudden insubordination for the win, because he says with a sigh, “I guess they are perfect for each other, so do we have a deal?”

Rogue King laughs, and the prince takes his bored eyes off my face—then finally, his sword off my chin.

I release the breath I’ve had to hold to not get accidentally cut.

“Yeah, we have a deal, but I won’t sign anything until we discuss the details about that access to your resources…”

I can’t stop staring at the Alpha Rogue Prince while our fathers try to determine the final details—all four of us sitting around the big oak table and a laptop in the center of my father’s royal office. I stopped caring about what they were saying after they decided on the date of the doomed wedding, despite my protests. So, I sit and stare. Why not?

With all of his leather, fur, belts, and metals, he looks more like a Viking—from the TV show my maids are recently obsessing over—than a werewolf.

Why is he not staring back? This pull I can feel between us is hard to ignore. Is he really listening to the conversation? Maybe he is. He is a future Rogue King, after all.

I don’t have to keep attention, not anymore, I think bitterly, still sour about the abrupt change of all my life plans.

Or maybe he really can’t feel the mate pull I’m feeling toward him?

If he could feel the pull, and I didn’t have to ignore mine, we would already be all over each other like any other mated werewolf pair. Or maybe—I don’t know, I can’t comprehend my own feelings right now, let alone the feelings of my biggest enemy.

I don’t really know what I’m signing with my name and the Royal Alpha Princess title when they are finally done. I don’t care. I don’t have a say in any of it. Not really.

“Let me do it,” I say, taking the scroll with the deal as soon as all four of us has signed it.