Royal Pride

by Zelda Knight

  My nostrils flare. I don’t appreciate his smartass comment.

  “You’re a supe.” I don’t bother to fix my voice. It’s flat and I feel that’s a fair tone to have after what Rex has told me. What am I supposed to do with that information?

  “Yeah.”

  I furrow my brow. “What does that even mean?” I ask. “You’re a supernatural creature? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?”

  “The last thing I would do is joke about something like this,” he tells me. His golden eyes glow even in the dark and I can tell he’s telling the truth.

  My mouth goes dry and I sit up abruptly, leaning against the headboard of the bed. I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, making sure to cover my breasts.

  “This isn’t funny,” I say.

  “No,” he agrees. “It’s not.” A pause. “Andrea, there’s more.”

  “More?” I crane my neck so I can look at him. “What more can there be, Rex? You’re some kind of creature.”

  “A shifter,” he corrects. It amazes me how calm he is, how gentle his voice is. It’s uncharacteristic of him to be this way, but I find that I appreciate it. “I’m an Alpha of my pack.”

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead on my knees.

  “You said there’s more?” I ask, my voice muffled by the sheets.

  “Yes.” Another pause. “You and I are fated mates.”

  I start laughing. I can’t help it. Rex believes in fated mates?

  I need to get out of here. This is too much.

  I slide out of the covers and throw on my clothes. I hear him shift on the bed.

  “Where are you going?” he demands to know.

  “What do you expect?” I ask. “First, you tell me you’re a shifter. Then, you tell me I’m fated to your mate. Don’t you think that entitles me to some time to take it all in?”

  I slide on my heels and leave before he can answer. Quite frankly, I don’t care if he agrees or not. But I need space. I need time to digest this information – if I can.

  Chapter Four

  The second I get home, I slam the door. I’m not in the mood to deal with Rex or any of his bullshit. This whole fated mates thing is ridiculous and I refuse to be a part of it.

  I close my eyes. Tears accumulate under the lids, but I do my best to blink them away. I don’t want to start crying, especially not over Rex, especially when I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up in the first place. Me and Rex were bad together. And now that I know what he really is…

  You still love him, a voice points out. That’s why you’re so upset. Because you still love him.

  “Fuck off,” I tell myself, my voice coming out pathetic and wobbly.

  I push off the door, wiping at my cheek, hoping this isn’t the start of me being an absolute baby. Fated mates don’t exist. I can pretend for the sake of Rex that he believes it’s true but deep down, I know fated mates is bullshit. Hell, supernatural entities should be bullshit but clearly they weren’t.

  I close my eyes again, dropping in my couch. The fact that I can’t unsee Rex shifting into a wolf haunts me.

  My couch is much more comfortable than I remember. My bones seem to melt into a pile of liquid and I don’t think I can get up if I try. Was this whole town filled with supernatural beings and I just didn’t know? How could it be possible that they would let a nonmagical entity like myself just live here? It’s not like I have a magical bone in my body. If I did, I would have used that to my advantage much sooner than now, for sure.

  A noise outside causes my eyes to snap open. My entire body freezes. I pause, waiting. There’s something sinister about the noise, which boggles my mind because a noise should not be sinister. But that doesn’t stop the hairs on my body from standing up, like they’re preparing me for something. I just don’t know what.

  I slowly stand up, glancing at my front door. It’s locked, something I’m grateful for. My mother always ingrained locking the door every time I got home from a young age so I do it now without even thinking about it. Still, I don’t feel settled by this.

  I look over at my window in the living room, behind the small sofa I picked out at a garage sale. The blinds are closed. No one can see me, but I can’t see them. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not.

  Well, what are you going to do, then?

  Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know if I should sit down and turn on the television as a way to distract me or if I should pop the blinds open and look outside. There’s a chance I’m just freaking myself out because of this whole supernatural thing as well.

  I stand slowly, the couch pressing against the back of my legs. I’m not one of those girls who’s going to go outside and check on the noise. I’m not a dumbass. But at the same time, I also don’t want to just stand there and wait for this person or creature or whatever the hell it is to come after me.

  I sneak into my kitchen, looking for a frying pan or something to use. I don’t have a bat, though maybe I should get one. My fingers tingle and I can’t explain why.

  I rub my lips together, dropping to my knees to open a cabinet and, at the same time, hide myself from view. My kitchen windows are drawn as well, but I don’t want to give them a target.

  Just as my hands curl around the handle of a pan, my kitchen door bursts open. I scream. I don’t even know how that’s possible because I know, for a fact, that I locked the kitchen door.

  Two men – although they could have been woman, I don’t know – walk in, dressed in black. They wear masks covering their face, and it’s creepy because the masks remind me of an old time doll from all the horror movies with the pale white face and the sickly smile.

  They say nothing, but turn to where I am, on my butt and pushing backwards. A pan has fallen out of the cabinet. I lean forward to grab it – it’s the only weapon I’ll have to defend myself with – when one of the men kick it away.

  “You’re coming with us,” he growls.

  The voice is unfamiliar and my heart skips. Why are they here? What do they want with me?

  “Why?” I ask.

  One reaches for me. I try to grab the frying pan but it’s just out of my reach. I curse. Of course it is.

  The man grabs my arm. With my other one, I lift my hand. Before I realize what’s happening, white light shoots from my hand and forces the two men across my kitchen. Their bodies hit the wall and crumple into a heap on the floor.

  “What the hell?”

  I look down at my hands. Where had that come from?

  Chapter Five

  The only person I can talk to about what happened is my grandmother. I’m not positive she’ll be able to tell me what’s going on, but if anyone knows anything, it’s her.

  I don’t leave my house until morning. On the one hand, I don’t think my grandma would even be awake at that point, and on the other, I don’t trust whoever did this not to try and do it again. I don’t know if they’re watching me. I don’t know if they’re going to try and attack me again. What I do know is that I don’t know much of anything going on so best to stay in my house with everything locked until it’s bright outside.

  Of course, I don’t actually sleep well. I toss and turn and dream of being attacked. I dream of light shooting out of my fingers and Rex turning into a wolf. It’s hard for me to concentrate on anything else.

  By the time, it’s morning, I roll out of bed and force myself to step into a shower. I’m ready to wash the events from the previous night off, which I do. When I finish, I throw on comfortable clothing. My feet still hurt from the heels I wore last night, so I gingerly slide on flip flops. Instead of blowing my hair dry, I throw it into a bun.

  I stifle a yawn, grab my keys, and head across town to my grandmother’s house. It’s located on the outskirts of the woods. Honestly, at night, it’s kind of a creepy place but in the day, with the birds singing, it’s peaceful.

  I step out of my car and head to her door. Her roses are overgrown and come on the pa
th up to her house. I’m careful to step around them. She likes her roses like people like pets and I don’t want to be responsible for any damage to them.

  I knock on the door and she answers not a moment later. Her pinkish hair is turning grey, which means she’s probably trying to figure out what crazy color she’s going to dye it this weekend. Her blue eyes fix on me and she grins.

  “I knew you’d come,” she says in an ominous voice.

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah?” I ask as she steps aside, inviting me in. “How’s that?”

  “Your powers were bound to manifest at some point,” she says. “Judging that you have your fathers genes, I assumed correctly you’d fall behind the usual manifesting powers timeline.”

  “Wait.” I close my eyes once I step into the foyer, trying to understand. “You knew I have powers?” The word feels weird even as I say it, like some kind of prank I don’t know how to react to.

  “Of course I knew you had powers,” she says, rolling her eyes at the thought. “Where do you think you get them from? You could have been an amazing witch, my friend, but then your mother had to run off and marry your father, ensuring your genes would be forever tainted by that.”

  “Hey,” I say, giving her a levelled look. Clearly, my grandmother is no fan of my father, which I understand.

  “Want a snack?” she asks as we make our way to her small dining room. There’s a light blue vase that holds a bundle of wildflowers and it smells vaguely of sage.

  “I’m okay,” I tell her. “I’m more concerned about these powers.”

  “How did they manifest?” she asks, going to her pantry and pulling out some chips.

  “To be honest, I don’t know.” I drop into a seat and find an old sugar packet blending in with the tablecloth. I began to twist it in my fingers. “I was attacked last night, and just when they were about to grab me, I reached out and powers came from my fingers.”

  Grandma nods, popping a chip into her mouth, completely unperturbed by my story.

  “Why doesn’t this surprise you?” I ask. I spread my arms out, keeping my hands on the table. “I could have been kidnapped. I could have died.”

  “Eh.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You’d have been fine. Your powers are meant to protect you and it sounds like they did their job.”

  I blink. “So, they’ve been inside of me since I was born?” I ask.

  “Before then, if you want to get technical.” She chews on another chip. “Your mother got her magic from me, I got my magic from my mother. You come from a long line of witches, Andrea. Powerful witches. Do not take that for granted, my darling.”

  I look at my hands, dropping the packet of sugar in the process. “It just feels strange,” I point out. “Why didn’t anyone tell me before now.”

  “Your mother never got the chance,” my grandmother says, her voice turning softer. I glance over at her only to see her eyes are glassy, but tears don’t fall at the mention of her lost child. She clears her throat. “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. What matters is you have powers. And now we need to do something about those powers. You said they came when you were attacked?”

  I nod.

  “Then we need to figure out who’s trying to attack you or take you,” she says. “We have many enemies, Andrea. I had hoped to keep you in the dark for as long as possible, but your magic had other ideas. I need to see who would want to harm us. Until then, go home. Be safe. And trust your powers. They will protect you.”

  Chapter Six

  When I get back from my grandmother’s place, the last person I expect to find at my door is Rex. And judging by his furrowed brow and his lips thinned from pressing them so hard together, he doesn’t look entirely happy about being here.

  “What?” I say after parking the car in my driveway and walking to my front door. Probably not the nicest greeting ever, but I’m already defensive based on what I’ve just learned and I don’t like that he already has an attitude when I haven’t actually done anything to him.

  “Anything you need to tell me?” he asks as I slide my key into the lock.

  I furrow my brow but I don’t even glance over my shoulder at him. “No,” I say. I turn the knob and step into my house. “Why?”

  “So, what you’re telling me is there’s nothing I should know.” Rex follows me inside without waiting for an invitation inside. Asshole. I shut the door behind us quickly, but not before casting a cursory glance around. It’s not like I’m afraid I’m going to get attacked again in broad daylight, but I don’t know who attacked me and I don’t feel like I can trust that completely. “Nothing important that maybe you want to share with me.”

  I turn from my door and cross my arms over my chest as he swaggers into the kitchen like he owns the place.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I insist, “and I don’t appreciate you coming into my home and just doing whatever you please.”

  “And I don’t appreciate you not calling me after getting attacked in the middle of the night,” he bit back, opening my refrigerator door.

  I still. “You heard about that?” I ask.

  He glanced over at me before returning his attention to what’s inside the fridge. “Of course I heard about it.” He shakes his head. “I told you. We’re fated mates. I know everything that goes on with you.”

  “That’s creepy,” I mutter.

  He pulls out a can of soda and clicks it open, shutting the door. “It’s not,” he insists. “It’s just how these things work. I already told you you’re my fated mate. That means my senses are more drawn to you than to anyone else. I can smell your powers on you. I can also smell your distress.”

  “So, you knew what happened yesterday and you didn’t come?” I ask. I don’t want him to know I’m disappointed by this revelation. The last thing I want him to think is that I’m some sort of damsel in distress, waiting on him to come save me every time I get attacked – which is starting to be more than I anticipated in my lifetime. However, if he did know what was happening and he chose to stay away, I don’t like that, either.

  He took a sip of the soda, leaning against the fridge. “Trust me,” he says. “If I knew…” He lets his voice trail off and I look away. His anger brims from his body and I can feel it even though we’re at least six feet apart. “There would be bloody ribbons of skin littering your house.”

  I wrinkle my nose. As sweet as that may be, I don’t like the image that’s popped into my head.

  “I felt your distress,” he admits, “but I wrongly assumed it had to do with what I told you, that we’re fated mates. I thought you were still upset.”

  “Right, because my distress constantly ties back to you, is that it?” I ask, arching a brow.

  He downs the rest of his soda and crinkles the cup in his hand. “Do you recycle?” he asks.

  I nod and gesture at my sink. He slides out my trash can, disposes of the can in what I hope is the right place, and slides it back in.

  “Yeah, I can admit it was arrogant and clearly wrong,” he says, “and it’s my mistake because you were almost taken. That’s my fault and I’m sorry. I promise that will never happen again.”

  His eyes burned into mine and I can’t help but flinch and look away. My stomach turns with something, though I can’t pinpoint what. It’s like the intensity of gaze has complete control of my body, of my insides, and they’re waiting for him to command me to do something. Is this the tug of fated mates or is it something else? I don’t know, and that’s my problem. Are my feelings for Rex genuine? Have they ever been? Or is this scheming by the universe?

  “You’re not responsible for me,” I point out, dropping my gaze. I don’t like the thought that he thinks he has to protect me all the time. I am capable of protecting myself. I have magic inside me.

  “I am,” he says, his voice tight. “And maybe you don’t like it, but it’s the truth.”

  “Just because it’s true for you doesn’t mean it’s true for me,” I tell hi
m, defensive.

  “I don’t think you understand –“

  “No,” I snap. I don’t care that I’m interrupting him. Rex needs to realize that just because his shifter tradition indicates that he’s fated with me or whatever he thinks is between us doesn’t mean I feel the same way. And yet, looking at him, I can’t stop the heat from flooding inside my body. “You need to realize that I’m not a shifter and I don’t abide by your shifter rules.”

  “You’ll abide by whatever I say,” he says. His voice is grouchy, and the words come out through a growl.

  I close my eyes. I’m not supposed to react this way. I’m not supposed to like him talking to me like this.

  But I do.

  God, I do.

  “You aren’t the boss of me, Rex.” I force my eyes open, only to realize he’s closer to me. Too close. Our bodies are inches away from each other, like we’re magnets just waiting to attach to each other. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he says, tilting his head down so his lips are so close to mine, “but you belong to me. Every inch of yours is mine. And I’ll prove it.”

  With that, he lunges for me.

  Chapter Seven

  We need to stop fucking after a fight. I want to see if Rex can be anything other than rough and dominant. But I can’t deny that his hunger feeds my own, and I get a thrill every time he glares at me. I like knowing I piss him off because he pisses me off.

  I swallow after he tears himself away from my lips. There’s something in the way he looks at me, something different, something deep. I’m almost tempted to look away, to pull away from him and throw myself into other things. It’s like it’s too much for me. It’s like I can see straight into his soul.

  Then, slowly, he cocks his head to the side and pulls my lips back in, except this time, he’s gentle, coaxing. He wants me to lead the kiss and he wants me to know he’s willing to give up this control.