BK 1 - 04: Attraction

IRIS

I followed Jonathan up the staircase, keeping my hands folded tightly in front of my dress.

My right palm was still warm, tingling from where King Tristan had touched me.

When his fingers had gripped mine, a strange heat had shot straight up my arm, making my heart race and my wolf whimper in shock. The look in his silver eyes had shifted instantly, from cold indifference to something intense and overwhelming and he had just simply released my hand with a terrifying, effortless calm that unnerved me so much.

"This is your suite, Lady Iris," Jonathan said, interrupting my thoughts.

I stepped into the room and stopped.

It was large and luxurious, far grander than anything I had expected for a political hostage. A fire crackled softly in a wide stone fireplace, casting a warm light over a large bed, polished furniture, and a tall window.

"The King has ordered that you be made comfortable," Jonathan said, placing my small travel bag on a bench near the door. "Servants will bring your dinner shortly."

I turned to face him, keeping my posture straight. "Am I permitted to leave this room?"

"You may walk the inner gardens during the day, my Lady," Jonathan replied in a formal tone. "However, guards will be posted outside your door at night. It is for your protection as much as the castle's security."

"I understand," I said softly. "Thank you, Jonathan."

He gave me a stiff nod, stepped out and pulled the door shut. I listened closely, but I didn't hear any harsh sound of a key locking from the outside. That simple detail made my stomach twist slightly. King Tristan wasn't locking me up. He was keeping me in a nice suite and treating me like an honored guest, making me wonder if I really was a political hostage.

I sat down on the edge of the soft bed, letting out a quiet breath.

I was no stranger to feeling alone. Growing up in Ashmoor as Ethan’s quiet younger sister, I had learned very early on that affection in our family was conditional, and usually non-existent. My parents had paid little attention to me, and Ethan had viewed me as nothing more than an asset to be used when convenient. When his debts mounted and the King of Varkhar threatened his execution, trading me away to save himself had been seamless for him.

I looked down at my right hand, tracing the skin where Tristan’s thumb had brushed my jaw earlier.

He was a terrifying man and for the first time, he was the one person I couldn't read. When he had lifted my chin and commanded me to look at him, my breath had hitched in my throat. I had felt genuine fear in that moment, knowing that my life rested entirely in the hands of a ruler known across the territory as ruthless and cold.

Yet, despite the coldness in his eyes, there was something else —a dark, brooding intensity that made my skin prickle.

A polite knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called out, standing up.

The door opened, and a young maid carrying a tray of steaming food walked into the room. She kept her head lowered, her small hands trembling slightly as she set the tray down on the table by the window.

"Your dinner, my Lady," she whispered, backing away quickly.

"Thank you," I said gently, offering her a faint smile. "What is your name?"

The girl paused, looking up in surprise. "Clara, my Lady."

"It is nice to meet you, Clara," I said, walking over to the table. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I am not here to make your work difficult."

Clara glanced toward the open door nervously before looking back at me. "I am not afraid of you, my Lady. It's just... the entire castle is quiet tonight. The King is in his study, and no one dares to disturb him when he looks like he does tonight."

"How does he look?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"He's terrifying," Clara murmured quietly. "Please be careful around him, Lady Iris. He is not a man who forgives mistakes."

"I will keep that in mind," I promised softly.

She gave a small bow and hurried out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I ate a small portion of the soup and fresh bread, staring out the window at the dark mountains surrounding Varkhar. The territory was harsh and unforgiving, much like its King. I knew I needed to stay cautious, keep my heart guarded, and observe everything carefully if I wanted to survive my time here.

Around an hour later, footsteps echoed down the corridor.

I stood up from the table, turning toward the door just as the shadow of a tall figure appeared. King Tristan stepped into the room. He had removed his fur cloak, wearing only a black tunic that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding frame.

He walked into the center of the room, his silver eyes swept over the room before settling on me.

"You haven't touched much of your dinner," Tristan noted smoothly, his voice low, calm, and utterly devoid of warmth.

"I wasn't very hungry, Your Grace," I replied, keeping my hands rested lightly in front of my dress. I bowed my head slightly, remembering his command from earlier. "Thank you for the meal."

Tristan walked toward me slowly, his boots making a quiet thud. He stopped just inches away, towering over me so completely that his shadow swallowed the firelight behind me. The natural heat coming off from his body hit me, making my wolf stir uncomfortably in my chest.

"You bow easily," he said, a faint, dark smile touching his sharp lips. "Is it because you are afraid, or because you are trying to please me?"

I kept my gaze fixed on his black tunic, measuring my words carefully. "I am being respectful to the ruler of the house I am staying in."

"Staying in?" Tristan repeated softly.

He reached out, his long, warm fingers resting on the base of my throat. My breath hitched in my chest. The moment his bare skin touched mine, that intense, burning heat flooded through my veins again. My wolf let out a needy whine inside my mind, begging me to lean closer to him, to press my skin on his.

Tristan’s thumb traced the pulse point at my neck, feeling my hear beat wildly. His eyes darkened, dipping down to my mouth before rising back to meet my gaze.

"You feel it, don't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety purr that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"Feel what?" I forced out, trying desperately to keep my voice calm while my body burned under his touch.

Tristan leaned down, his face closing the distance until his warm breath brushed over the sensitive skin under my ear. He slid his hand up from my neck, his broad palm cupping the side of my face while his fingers tangled gently into my hair. The sensation was overwhelmingly electric. Every nerve ending in my body screamed for him to pull me closer.

"We are fated mates, Iris," he murmured softly into my ear.

My heart stopped. I froze, my hazel eyes widening as I stared at him in complete disbelief. "What?"

"Fated mates," Tristan repeated, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips as he watched my shock. "The Moon Goddess chose you for me."

"No..." I breathed, shaking my head slightly, but the touch of his fingers in my hair was making my knees feel weak. The mate bond was pulling at me so strongly it felt like a wire yanked tight inside my chest. "That's... that's impossible."

"Is it?" Tristan whispered.

His hand slid down from my hair, trailing slowly over my shoulder and down the length of my arm. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my wrist, sending a wave of fiery goosebumps spilling on my skin. My breath came out in a quiet, ragged gasp. I wanted to pull away, but my body refused to move, completely captive to the delicious torment of his touch.

He stepped even closer, his broad chest almost brushing on mine. He lowered his head, tracing the outline of my collarbone with the tip of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make my skin throb with heat.

"Your body knows it's true," he murmured, his eyes fixed on my face as my lips parted slightly.

He brought his hand up again, his thumb gently brushing my bottom lip. The sensation made my eyes flutter shut for a split second, a soft sigh escaping my throat. I wanted him to close the tiny distance between us. I wanted him to press his lips on mine and end the agonizing ache pulling at my chest.

I opened my eyes, looking up at him with a silent, helpless plea in my gaze.

Tristan stared down at me, taking in my flushed cheeks and shallow breathing. The dark smile returned to his face.

Instead of leaning down to kiss me, he slowly pulled his hand away from my face, breaking the physical contact entirely.

The sudden loss of his touch felt like a splash of freezing water. My skin coldness instantly missed his warmth, and a desperate, empty ache flared up in my chest.

"Get some rest, Iris," Tristan said smoothly, taking a deliberate step back and putting space between us. His voice was completely calm, as if he hadn't just set my entire body on fire.

I stood there, trembling slightly, my chest heaving as I stared at him in stunned silence. He had deliberately drawn out every ounce of my response, only to strip it away the second I reached for it.

"Goodnight, my King," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Tristan gave me a quiet, satisfied nod, turned on his heel, and walked out of the suite, leaving me alone in the room with my heart beating so fast.