muscles
on their arms.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
They turned their heads at the same moment, as if
directed like marionettes. She felt her cheeks heat as they assessed her. The
chill she’d experienced walking the forest now turned into a blazing inferno.
She was tempted to start stripping off layers to rid herself of the heat creeping up her collar.
“I’m more than sure,” said Targus. “I’m finally
taking your advice to heart.”
“She’s not a princess. Or like us.”
“I know that.” The entire time Targus kept his eyes
on her, as if her very presence distracted him. She wasn’t sure how she was
supposed to feel. Marco expected her to look like a princess? What did he think
she was—the jester? How did Targus feel about her?
Tension was thick in the air. “Are you sure now’s a
good time?” she asked. Helen didn’t want to be somewhere she wasn’t wanted. “I
can leave.”
Targus led her deeper into the house, his hand
possessively around her waist. Rather than pulling away, she found herself
leaning closer just to get a whiff of his unique musky cologne. It smelled
delicious, nearly making her salivate.
There was no harsh overhead lighting, just a few
lamps creating a soft, flickering light. It relaxed her, even though she was
certain she should feel leery with two strangers in the middle of nowhere.
Nobody even knew where she was if she suddenly went missing. Not that anyone
would miss her.
“You can’t image how glad I am you showed up. I
thought I’d have to go hunting for you at first light.”
She half chuckled, uncertain if he was being serious
or not. Helen walked tentatively around the room. The walls were all rough wooden
planks, exposed beams running the length of the vaulted ceilings. It felt cozy
and inviting, like she’d lived there all her life. She supposed it was paradise
compared to her cramped apartment in the city. Her view consisted of the brick
wall of the building next door, not a peaceful lake surrounded by forest.
“I really love your place,” she said. Helen ran a
finger along the fireplace mantle. This was a home where memories could be
made. She could forget her worries and learn what it meant to really breathe. “Do
you both live here?” She had to know how they were related, if at all.
“Marco’s like a brother to me. We’ve shared the
house for years.”
It was odd that two very eligible bachelors were
still single, living way out here on their own. Were they trouble? Maybe they
were both playboys, only interested in loving and leaving. Helen didn’t want to
be another notch in Targus’s belt. For once, she wanted to be taken seriously.
****
He couldn’t believe she was standing in his living
room. When he thought about it, she was
the first female to visit their place. If he had his way, she’d also be the
last. Targus had paced the wooden floors thin after Helen left in the
afternoon. Knowing she was his mate, he worried about her every second she was
away from him. But she was a human, so he had to play by a new set of rules.
Coming off as overbearing and controlling would push her away, not attract her
like a she-wolf.
Targus couldn’t believe his life could change so
dramatically within hours. One moment angry with the world and mourning his
chance to mate a royal princess, the next solely focused on one female. Nothing
mattered but her. He’d heard of the mating call from Marco and others, but he’d
never experienced it firsthand.
He wasn’t sure why Marco was giving him a hard time.
He was the one pushing him to find a female of his own. Even now, he paced the
far corner of the room, his eyes fixated on Helen. It must be her human heritage.
She was a forbidden fruit Targus should deny, but how could he ignore fate?
“It’s late to be out in the woods, little one.”
Marco was partially hidden in the shadows, the light from the lamp occasionally
highlighting the planes of his face. Was he trying to scare
on their arms.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
They turned their heads at the same moment, as if
directed like marionettes. She felt her cheeks heat as they assessed her. The
chill she’d experienced walking the forest now turned into a blazing inferno.
She was tempted to start stripping off layers to rid herself of the heat creeping up her collar.
“I’m more than sure,” said Targus. “I’m finally
taking your advice to heart.”
“She’s not a princess. Or like us.”
“I know that.” The entire time Targus kept his eyes
on her, as if her very presence distracted him. She wasn’t sure how she was
supposed to feel. Marco expected her to look like a princess? What did he think
she was—the jester? How did Targus feel about her?
Tension was thick in the air. “Are you sure now’s a
good time?” she asked. Helen didn’t want to be somewhere she wasn’t wanted. “I
can leave.”
Targus led her deeper into the house, his hand
possessively around her waist. Rather than pulling away, she found herself
leaning closer just to get a whiff of his unique musky cologne. It smelled
delicious, nearly making her salivate.
There was no harsh overhead lighting, just a few
lamps creating a soft, flickering light. It relaxed her, even though she was
certain she should feel leery with two strangers in the middle of nowhere.
Nobody even knew where she was if she suddenly went missing. Not that anyone
would miss her.
“You can’t image how glad I am you showed up. I
thought I’d have to go hunting for you at first light.”
She half chuckled, uncertain if he was being serious
or not. Helen walked tentatively around the room. The walls were all rough wooden
planks, exposed beams running the length of the vaulted ceilings. It felt cozy
and inviting, like she’d lived there all her life. She supposed it was paradise
compared to her cramped apartment in the city. Her view consisted of the brick
wall of the building next door, not a peaceful lake surrounded by forest.
“I really love your place,” she said. Helen ran a
finger along the fireplace mantle. This was a home where memories could be
made. She could forget her worries and learn what it meant to really breathe. “Do
you both live here?” She had to know how they were related, if at all.
“Marco’s like a brother to me. We’ve shared the
house for years.”
It was odd that two very eligible bachelors were
still single, living way out here on their own. Were they trouble? Maybe they
were both playboys, only interested in loving and leaving. Helen didn’t want to
be another notch in Targus’s belt. For once, she wanted to be taken seriously.
****
He couldn’t believe she was standing in his living
room. When he thought about it, she was
the first female to visit their place. If he had his way, she’d also be the
last. Targus had paced the wooden floors thin after Helen left in the
afternoon. Knowing she was his mate, he worried about her every second she was
away from him. But she was a human, so he had to play by a new set of rules.
Coming off as overbearing and controlling would push her away, not attract her
like a she-wolf.
Targus couldn’t believe his life could change so
dramatically within hours. One moment angry with the world and mourning his
chance to mate a royal princess, the next solely focused on one female. Nothing
mattered but her. He’d heard of the mating call from Marco and others, but he’d
never experienced it firsthand.
He wasn’t sure why Marco was giving him a hard time.
He was the one pushing him to find a female of his own. Even now, he paced the
far corner of the room, his eyes fixated on Helen. It must be her human heritage.
She was a forbidden fruit Targus should deny, but how could he ignore fate?
“It’s late to be out in the woods, little one.”
Marco was partially hidden in the shadows, the light from the lamp occasionally
highlighting the planes of his face. Was he trying to scare
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