Chapter 007. One Room

“That scowl,” Vaelen murmured, not bothering to lift his gaze, “will ruin my reputation. Everyone already thinks I’m wicked, at least let them believe you’re enjoying this.”

The audacity.

“Fortunately,” she said coolly, refusing to glance even once at the male seated across from her.

Because he was watching her.

Had been, she was certain of it, even while pretending to scribble notes into the margins of some pack treaty or contract or whatever it was he'd pulled from his coat the moment they’d left.

“I’m not.”

“Shame. I had high hopes for a dramatic exit.”

She had too. Might deny it now, but had hoped Flynn had fought for her. Not let her go … but she had walked into this choice. And part of her knew she would make the wrong one.

Vaelen finally looked up and gods—his eyes. She’ll never get used to them.

“Scared?” he asked.

“No.” Her voice didn’t tremble. She made sure of it. “Should I be?”

A low hum of something passed through his throat, but the moment shattered in an instant when the carriage lurched violently, hard enough to knock her off balance. Her hands went out, catching air but Vaelen was faster. His arm locked around her waist, the rest of her colliding with the solid heat of his chest.

She tried not to inhale. She failed. And her cheeks flushed crimson with shame at the awkward position.

“What the—”

“Easy there.” His voice near her ear, that velvet drawl turned all sensual.

Mercifully, he let her go, just as the doors slammed open.

“Kaan,” Vaelen called to the front. The calm had left his voice.

The Lycan in front was already halfway out, amber eyes scanning the road. “Wire trap,” Kaan said tersely. "Four at the right flank. Three at the left. And..." He tilted his head, listening. "Three more approaching from ahead."

“Fucking ambitious,” Vaelen sighed, more annoyed than alarmed.

“Wait—” Saeris stood too quickly. “Are we—are we being ambushed?”

“Technically, yes.”

Technica— fuck that.

“By who?”

“Whom,” he corrected.

She gaped at him. “Seriously?”

Vaelen turned, one hand braced on the frame of the carriage. His silhouette against the growing twilight was unfairly calm. “Assassins, by the look of it.”

That forced a laugh out of her. He can’t be serious. (right?) “Assassins? But isn’t this your territory? Em… Is this your territory?”

The other two males vanished just as a shadow shifted ahead. “That…” Vaelen changed tack. “We’ve just crossed into the first northern border. And not all Lycans answer to the same crown.”

Was that even meant to calm her?

He turned his full attention to her then. The full weight of that gaze, like heat and teeth and the sharp point of a sword just before it sinks into flesh.

“Stay inside.”

The male ahead had uncorked a vial with his teeth, glass glittering before being tossed aside like trash. Whatever was inside shimmered purple in the last traces of daylight. He drank it in one gulp … and the change was instant. Muscles rippled. Bones snapped. As if whatever he drank had taken hold of his mind along with his body.

Her gaze cut to Vaelen, searching for any sign of what he was thinking. He wasn't alarmed. Not even remotely.

Two more lycans broke through the trees, no potion in sight, only rage and bloodlust. One made it three steps before Vaelen was on him.

Saeris didn’t see him move, just the blur of darkness, the hiss of breath, then claws sinking into a throat. Tearing. Flesh and blood ripped away. The second was soon pinned to the earth and disemboweled in one deep, long swipe.

Pure shock punched her gut.

She'd trained before. With Wade. With the others. She knew how to take down an opponent, how to land a strike. But this? Hell nah.

The final Lycan, the one on the potion, glowing purple eyes and all…let out another roar that made the marrow of her bones go cold and revealed those lengthened canines as he charged. Mother— But Vaelen wasn’t there anymore. He twisted, ducked under a strike that would’ve decapitated a normal male, and drove his fist so deep into the Lycan’s chest that Saeris swore she felt the crack in her own ribs. The lycan staggered, gurgled.

Collapsed.

Vaelen stood over the corpse like death in tailored black.

Blood dripped from his claws…sharp, long, still extended.

This was what a Lycan King was. This was power. And it terrified her.

Her heart beat louder than the silence that followed. The carriage suddenly felt too tight. Too far away. She needed air, needed to understand what she had just seen. The door creaked open under her hand.

She stepped out slowly. Carefully. Eyes never leaving him.

Vaelen bent, blood glistening along his knuckles, and picked up the shattered vial. Held it to the fading light.

“What was that?” Her voice was steadier than her insides. “The purple liquid?”

He didn’t look at her right away. “Who’s to say?” he said with a grunt.

Liar.

“I told you to stay inside.”

She straightened, ignoring the blood that slicked his sleeves. “I’m not great with following orders.”

A soft hum left him. Almost pleased. Like she’d passed some silent test he hadn’t bothered to warn her about.

“You didn’t shift,” she noted, glancing down at the gore that slicked his hands.

“I didn’t need to.”

She hated the way her stomach clenched at the low confidence in his voice. Hated it because part of her liked hearing it. Liked knowing he was that capable. That dangerous. She stamped the warmth that bloomed low in her stomach … stunned that her body reacted even now—to him.

Flynn had never made her feel that way. Never made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a blade… and wanted to look down.

“Having second thoughts already?”

“No,” she lied.

And maybe it wasn’t a full lie. Maybe she hadn’t decided anything at all yet.

Kaan and the coachman emerged from opposite ends of the clearing, blood streaked across their chin and coats. Neither looked winded. The coachman retrieved a bottle from the carriage and poured it over Vaelen’s outstretched hands, letting the blood wash away into the mud.

“Well?” Vaelen flexed his fingers.

“Handled,” Kaan replied, adjusting his cuff. “The wire trap was intended to force us off-road and vulnerable.”

“Sloppy.”

Saeris’s mouth twitched. “Who were they?”

Kaan’s gaze flicked to hers, but he said no word.

She almost repeated herself—but Vaelen was already glancing up at the sky. Storm clouds rolled in low and heavy. “We’ll discuss it later.” His tone brokered no debate. “We need to move. A storm’s coming.”

“There’s an inn five miles north,” Kaan offered. “Lacky, but enough.”

Vaelen nodded. “Get the carriage off the road. Tires need replacing. We’ll go on foot.”

“We?” Saeris asked, brows lifting.

“Unless you’d rather keep the bodies company, wolfling.”

She said nothing as they set off on foot, leaving the two behind. Luckily, she didn't have on one of those ill-fitting heels. Not once did he check if she could keep up. She found she didn’t mind.

“Does this happen often?” Saeris asked after a while. “Assassins trying to kill you?” Was it even him?

“More often than I’d like,” he admitted. “Less often than they hope.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

He looked sideways at her, golden eyes almost amused. “Would it comfort you if I screamed and panicked?”

“No.” She didn’t lie this time. “But most people would at least look concerned.”

“I’m not most people, Saeris.”

“Clearly.”

To her surprise, he laughed—a soft genuine sound that transformed his face completely. For a moment, he looked younger, less burdened. “You’re either very brave or very foolish to speak to me like that,” he said.

“Perhaps a bit of both. I’ve been told I talk when I should shut up.”

“I’m starting to believe it.”

She almost smiled—almost. But then the inn came into view, squat and tucked at the foot of the hill, with lanterns flickering like they might blow out any second. Not a soul in sight beyond the murky windows.

“That’s the inn?”

“Were you hoping for a manor?”

She rolled her eyes, but the rain answered for her before she could respond.

The bell above the door let out a tired jingle. Warmth greeted them first. Then silence. Every gaze in the room shifted toward them, toward him then her. A wolf among Lycans.

And behind the counter, a heavyset woman stood wiping glasses.

“We need a room,” Vaelen said, straight to the point.

The woman narrowed her eyes. Took in his tailored jacket. His height. His unmistakable air of command. Her mouth curled, fake sympathy dripping. “Full up tonight. Not a single bed left.”

“Check again.”

Pure command. No politeness.

The woman stiffened. Then glanced at her ledger. “Well… would you look at that,” she drawled. “One room. Just the one, I’m afraid.”

“Just one?” Saeris asked tightly. And maybe the worst part was… she wasn’t sure if she was angry at the innkeeper, or at how fast her pulse jumped at the thought.

“Just one.”

Vaelen placed more coins on the counter than was necessary. “We’ll take it.”