My knight pulls into an underground garage, the rumbling machine echoing through the concrete space. When he pats my thigh, I dismount. My legs are still vibrating. I’m just not sure whether it’s from the ride or fear. There’s no way he can’t feel me shaking when his hand clasps the back of my neck, but my tremors don’t give him the slightest pause. He flexes his fingers, steering me toward an elevator. Once we’re inside, he lowers his hand, pressing the wall to expose a closet, where he swaps out his riding leather for a smart suit jacket. Bad boy turned business professional is what he meant when he said he’d be my day. Clever. No less attractive in either case. Neither out of place. Unlike me. Me? I’m a windswept wreck. Whatever my worst was prior to this moment, I’ve topped it. Good job, me.

“Handy,” I mutter.

In the mirrored reflection of the interior, I catch his smile. It’s devilish, sending a fresh wave of tremors along my spine. As the elevator doors open to the ground level, his hand clamps around my neck again. Part of me wants to shake it off. I mean, it’s odd being steered. He pushes. I move. Another part of me sort of likes that I’m a tad in front of him so he can’t see the expressions undoubtedly contorting my face. We stop in front of the reservations desk, bypassing a line of people checking in and out.

Heartbeats chorus through the open space, with its high ceilings giving the false illusion of increased size. Admittedly, the lobby is in no way small. It isn’t the intended focal point anyway. The draw is the massive entrance wall, which isn’t technically a wall. It’s stained glass, a rainbow beaming onto the marble tile at my feet. My bare feet. My dirty, bare feet. I shift awkwardly, suddenly aware how out of place I am.

From behind the desk, beautiful blue eyes lock onto my knight, long lashes fluttering their hello, as her dark cherry lips start to curl at the edges. The smile is cut short when she notices his hand, those lips pressing into a thin line. Calm down, Lady. I’m not after your man. I don’t even know his name.

“Kella,” my knight addresses her. His voice is different. Sharper. Borderline animus. To be fair, we’ve barely spoken, so I’m definitely not the best judge of a temperament change, but when we did talk, it was something easy. Flirty, actually. Not like this. She hasn’t spoken, and he’s already annoyed. “Are the rooms prepared?”

Now my cheeks heat. The full extent of her attention is directed at me. She’s not shy about a thorough survey, looking me over from the top of my feral hair to…yeah, you guessed it. My bare feet. Her nose curls in disgust. I know I look bad—understatement of the year—but she doesn’t need to be so affronted by it. It’s not my fault I didn’t have a fancy coat closet to instantly transform myself from wild ride to casual chic. My shoulders curl in on themselves, trying to help me minimize the space I’m taking up. My knight squeezes my neck once. He’s attempting to soothe me, yet the contact doesn’t soothe me. It just makes me more uncomfortable.

“Kella,” he barks.

Her eyes snap to his, then find the floor. “All set,” she grinds out. “Fully stocked.”

He steers me away from the desk toward a different bank of elevators, not releasing his hand this time when the doors close.

“Are you sure I should be here?” I whisper. “I think it’s upsetting your girlfriend...and maybe you.”

His fingers drum the side of my neck. “You jealous, sweetheart?”

I scoff, trying and failing, to dislodge his hand. “I’m not your sweetheart, and I’m not jealous, for the record. This is threat mediation. I’m in a foreign environment. Making waves isn’t top ten on my to-do list.”

He leans closer, inhaling deeply. Why is he smelling me? I take a whiff myself, worried more than my appearance is off-putting. Thankfully, I only smell the fresh air from our ride, lingering like a second skin.

He catches my eye in the mirror. “Kella’s my sister.”

Electrical pulses shoot through my neck to my shoulders. My seized muscles let loose. I don’t understand what difference that makes to me. What do I care that she’s his sister and not a jaded girlfriend? It’s just one more thing to get confused over at this point. Regardless, there’s no time to question it. The elevator stops on the top floor. When the door opens, he steers me out into the hall. This floor has two rooms, one on the left and one on the right.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He positions me in the middle of the hall, spinning me around to face him. “Left or right, little bird.” Great, a new pet name. Cue sarcasm.

Instead of responding to what I assume is the option of door number one or door number two, I fold my arms across my chest and glower. He blinks, unbothered by my stare down. In fact, he uses the opportunity to fully take me in. Everywhere his ocean-hued eyes touch my skin feels like lasers.

“Two questions,” he offers.

I tilt my head in confusion. What’s he after now? His hands are clenched at his sides, as though he’s struggling to keep them away from me. He’s a really touchy type of guy, I reckon. Jarek’s like that. Even when he isn’t wielding his dark water gifts, he needs to have his hands on someone. While it’s usually Grace, anyone will do in a pinch.

“I’ll answer two questions, then you’ll pick,” he elaborates.

“Three,” I counter. Honestly, why am I negotiating? Two guaranteed answers are more than he’s given me since I met him.

He shakes his head, drawing a sigh from me. This whole situation is bizarre. I should’ve made a run for the exit when we were in the lobby. Something tells me my curiosity is going to be my ruination.

“Who are you?” I cave.

He holds up one finger, smiling like he’s won a prize from me. It takes extreme effort not to mirror the expression. It’s not that I’m standing here trying to be miserable. I just want some details to decide if he deserves my smiles or not. So far, I’m unconvinced he does. He’s compelling, yes. Hot too. Unfortunately, beyond the physical pull, dude is cryptic as heck and a touch weird. That’s not a judgment against the weird. I’m a proud member of the club, but there are good and bad weirds. Which kind is he?

“Vand.”

“Sorry, Vand, I didn’t ask what your name was. I asked who you are.” His lips twitch. I can’t tell if he’s restraining a smirk or sneer. Probably not wise to antagonize a stranger, but here we are.

He steps closer, sucking up all the space between us with his intensity. His hands move to either side of my face, electrical pulses zipping along where his fingers touch. “Say it again.”

I’m lightheaded. That typically only happens when my breathing is out of whack, except this time I’m not scared. I’m not upset. This feeling is strange. New. Exhilarating. “Say what again?” I croak out.

He leans down, his lips hovering over mine. “My name.”

“Vand,” I murmur.

He tilts forward, and I lose myself in the tropical scent enveloping me. His face appears in my mind like a wrecking ball, smashing away this temporary reprieve from obligation. My first kiss—the ultimate worst in learning experiences—was nothing like this. Not an ideal time for a comparison, but it is what it is. Roughly three years ago, I kissed Jack Findlay. His body went completely rigid. I thought he died. He forcefully detached from me, disappearing into the woods where he immediately shifted to the wolf. He didn’t return to human skin for two full weeks. In a split second, I changed both our lives. It happened that quickly. Consequently, I also changed the lives of everyone connected to ours.

Vand is not Jack. Where Jack froze, Vand melds to me. His lips are soft, giving. The warm expanse sends shockwaves through me. He wants me. Of that, I’m absolutely certain. His course is set. Seems I want him too. At least my body does. My lungs act up, burning slightly as my energy well reminds me elevated emotions are a catalyst for rapid energy drain. That, coupled with the increasing ache in my chest, is enough to have me drawing back.

I swallow hard. “Too much.”

“Not enough,” he contends, pressing his forehead to mine.

My inflamed energy well continues scorching my lungs, but the ache in my chest dwindles back to the dull throb he ensured me it would. It’s not exactly where my heart is. It’s more in the middle of my rib cage, between my breasts. Serious indigestion. That’s what fusion is, Folks. Guess the bond isn’t a fan of me kissing strange men. My heart’s having a bit of a meltdown also. It’s racing so hard I’m worried it might explode. Can he hear it? While I’ve never been self-conscious of my physical responses before, with him so close I’m keenly aware how ridiculous my reaction is. Small mercy, I’m not alone in this. His heart is racing to the finish line along with mine. What’s he thinking?

“You’re uncomfortable,” he unnecessarily points out.

“Confused,” I deflect. He has me at the worst disadvantage. He’s holding all the cards here. He isn’t flashing them, either. Not even the teensiest peek.

He nods. “This is a lot for you. You’re new.”

I am new, though my mind feels eons old. What he didn’t say was young. I like this description better.

“Where am I, Vand?”

He holds up two fingers, indicating he hasn’t forgotten I’m restricted to two questions. “The Hotel Stained Glass. My hotel.”

I suppose he’ll expect me to choose now. Left or right. Are those my only choices? “What if I want to leave?”

He shrugs. “Then leave.”

I lift a doubtful brow. “You’d let me go?”

He frowns, his hand coming around the back of my neck again, full-body tingles coming with it. “I told you once. This is the second and last time I’ll say it. I’m no danger to you, little bird. Never to you.”

I blow out an unsteady breath. It should be a simple enough choice. Left or right…or neither.

His fingers flex, and the hairs on my arms rise in response. “Left or right?”

I square my shoulders. “Left.”

His smile is wolfish. I understand this is a game to him, but I don’t know the rules or what’s at stake. I do know one thing, however. This is not my wolf, and I need to be careful of his teeth.