Traitor of the Entitled Novella

by Shannon Lynn Cook

  I swear I have the worst luck in the world.

  “Dustin,” I say. Nicole hisses in my ear when she spots him.

  The knight marshal frowns, likely noticing my tears even though I try to pretend I’m fine. Great even. Perfectly peachy.

  My ex’s very pregnant wife—a respectable Owl—looks like she wants to hide. Apparently, a confrontation with me was not on her evening’s agenda. She doesn’t have anything to worry about—I’m not going to play the part of the crazy ex-girlfriend.

  I just want out of here.

  I wish I could say I excuse myself with class and grace, but no. I mumble something—I don’t even know what—and try to make a quick, clean getaway.

  Unfortunately, these heels were not made for sprinting.

  So, yeah, I trip.

  “Chloe!” Nicole yells in my ear.

  My arms flail, and I let out an embarrassing scream as I stumble forward, right for my ex. I’m just about to collide with him when an arm snakes around my waist, abruptly stopping my fall. I’m suddenly pressed against a chest that feels a lot like Eric’s.

  I close my eyes, hating my life. Hating it so darn much.

  “Hey Dustin,” Eric says from above me, his words rumbling in his chest against my back. When he’s sure I’m steady, he releases his grip on me, and I step away, trying to collect the remaining scraps of my dignity. “Your team’s already inside.”

  Dustin stares at me, pitying me—the arrogant Dragon.

  “It was good to see you, Chloe,” he says, setting a hand on the small of his wife’s back, just like he used to do for me.

  “Yep,” I say to the floor, unable to watch them pass.

  Once they’re gone, I look up at the Bunny and rip out my earpiece. “I need a drink.”

  He grins. “I’ll buy.”

  9

  I stir the ice cream into my soda. “You know, when I said a drink, I wasn’t really thinking root beer floats.”

  Eric chuckles and digs a spoon into his paper cup. We’re in his massive Ford pickup, in a dark parking lot, like a couple of teenagers on a cheap date. I shouldn’t be here, but running into Dustin destroyed my defenses.

  The knight’s phone rings, and I look down, pressing the little buttons on my plastic lid.

  “It’s Jonathan,” Eric tells me as though I care. “I’ll call him back later.”

  Just hearing the Griffon’s name makes me want to growl. I roll my eyes and stab my straw into the ice cream once more.

  “Did Jonathan do something?” Eric asks, incredulous. Like his beloved Griffon buddy is above the rest of us.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you murdering your ice cream?”

  I look up, glaring. “Listen, I had a really crappy night, and I—”

  “You look beautiful though. I saw Peter take you out onto the balcony, and I reasoned that I should check on you—make sure you were okay. But mostly, I was jealous.”

  I blink at him. Who says things like that?

  “Why was it a crappy night?” he asks, taking a sip of his root beer, changing gears so fast I could get whiplash.

  “Why were you worried about Peter?” I ask instead of answering, wondering if Eric knows he’s Entitled.

  Eric rolls his eyes as if the answer were obvious. “The man’s sleazy.”

  “He’s also an elder for the Entitled,” I say, which makes Eric choke on his drink.

  Oddly satisfied, I watch him cough.

  Gaping at me, Eric finally says, “He is not.”

  “He is so,” I say, responding like we’re in elementary school.

  “He was my mentor while I was at the Knights’ Guild Academy.”

  I shrug.

  “He works for the guild.”

  I smirk, feeling marginally better. “Lots of the Entitled work for the guild.”

  “How many?” he demands.

  I meet his eyes, liking that I know something he doesn’t, and shrug again. I’m not going to rat them all out. Most haven’t done anything to deserve it.

  “What’s Parker doing here?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Parker?” Eric says, surprised. “Oh, she requested a transfer. Apparently, she has family here, and she wanted to be closer.”

  I snort, rolling my eyes. “I’ll bet.”

  He stares at me for half a moment, and then he groans, shoving his drink into the cup holder. “Not you too.”

  “Me too, what?” I snap.

  “What is it with the Griffon? He’s like catnip to you all.”

  I stare at him, momentarily confused. Eric looks genuinely irritated. “What?” I ask.

  “Listen, Jonathan is spoken for, okay?” He leans against his door, turning toward me. “Can’t you just settle for me?”

  Gasping when I realize what he thinks is going on, I shake my head. “Not me. I don’t like him.”

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  “Madeline likes him—a lot.”

  His expression turns slightly suspicious. “How do you know that?”

  “Are you serious? What do you think the Entitled had me doing the whole time we were in Vegas? I had cameras on the lot of you, and I saw more than I wanted—believe me.”

  He stares at me, tapping his fingers on his massive crossed arms.

  “You had cameras on us?” he finally asks.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but I’d figured he’d already worked that part out.

  I look down, studying my rapidly melting ice cream. “Yeah…”

  “In the rooms?”

  Is he dense or what?

  “Yes.”

  “You do realize that’s an invasion of privacy? And an illegal use of your magic.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You’re welcome to file a complaint with Peter—this project was his baby, not mine.”

  Slowly, a smirk builds on his face. He leans across the console, making the truck shrink. “You know, little Squirrel, I could arrest you.”

  I blink at him. He’s so close, and the truck suddenly seems very small.

  My heart beats madly, and I’m afraid if he were a Wolf, he’d be able to hear it.

  “But you won’t,” I say, pressing my back against the cold window.

  Eric cocks his head to the side. “And why is that?”

  I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement. Gulping, I whisper, “Because I saved Madeline.”

  “That’s irrelevant. You’re a bad Squirrel,” the knight teases softly, making my stomach flutter. “And I would be a bad Bunny if I didn’t see justice served.”

  “That was by far the most disturbing thing a man has ever said to me.”

  He laughs, thoroughly amused, and sits back. “Seriously, though. Cameras?”

  “Sorry.”

  He thinks about it for another minute, and then he looks back. He hesitates as if he’s reluctant to say what’s on his mind.

  “What?” My cheeks go hot. “I didn’t watch you change or anything if that’s what you’re thinking. And what would I have seen that you didn’t flash hundreds of women while on the catwalk?”

  “Funny.”

  He’s about to say something else when his phone rings again. He checks the screen, rolls his eyes, and silences it. “Someone’s needy tonight,” he mutters.

  It must be Jonathan again.

  “Should you call him back?”

  “Nah, if it were important, Gray would be calling too.”

  He then turns his attention back to me. Quickly, as if he’s worried he’ll lose his nerve, he asks, “Madeline and Jonathan—are they okay?”

  “Okay?” My mood plummets. “Jonathan took Parker to the wedding as his date. Do you think they’re okay?”

  “She wasn’t his date.”

  “They were standing together.”

  “She likes him—follows him everywhere, but I assure you, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

  I think about it, but I’m not certain I believe him.

 
; “Why were he and Madeline keeping their distance from each other? Why didn’t he sit with you during the wedding?”

  “Things are complicated,” he says.

  “Because she linked with Rafe, right?” I frown, shaking my head. “But it looks like they’re barely talking too.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  I sigh and look out the window at the dark, snowy night. “I know I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—I’m gonna be honest here—you all kind of suck. Jonathan was practically declaring his undying affection for Madeline in Vegas, and the next time I see him, he’s with a long-legged Hound. Dustin said I was his “everything,” and then two minutes later, he ditched me for an Owl. Why would I think you would be any diff—”

  “You dated Dustin?” Eric interrupts.

  “For two years.”

  “But Dustin is a schmuck,” he says, sounding genuinely confused.

  I bark out a surprised laugh. “Tell me about it.”

  He leans over the console again, his eyes focused on mine. “I, however, am not a schmuck, Chloe.”

  “You’re a knight marshal.”

  “The two things aren’t connected.”

  He’s doing some weird Bunny magic on me, being all soothing and gentle. It shouldn’t work since I’m, you know, not an animal. But what can I say? He’s good.

  Quietly, he says, “If you like me at all, let me prove it to you.”

  “I do like you,” I blurt out, the abrupt declaration surprising Eric almost as much as it startles me. What the heck, Chloe? “But it’s a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…”

  You’ll hurt me.

  Good grief, how pathetic can I get? I don’t even want to think about how close I was to actually saying it.

  I stare at him, hardening my resolve. We’re not going there. I don’t care how handsome he is; I don’t care if he seems one-hundred-percent sincere.

  He presses his lips together—the beginning of a frown—knowing he’s losing me. But before either of us can say anything—before I pull a Vegas and flat-out reject him again—my phone rings.

  Thankful for the distraction, I pull it from my purse.

  “Hey,” I say to Nicole.

  “Let me talk to Eric.”

  “What?” I ask, sure I heard her wrong.

  “I want to talk to him,” she says in this don’t-argue-with-me tone that makes me think she would have been an excellent middle school teacher.

  I almost hang up on her. If curiosity weren’t getting the best of me, I would. They say cats are curious, well look out, because there’s nothing as naturally curious as a Squirrel. I can’t even suppress it.

  Without a word, I hand my phone to Eric. “It’s for you.”

  His eyebrows shoot up, and a grin chases away his grim expression. “For me?”

  “It’s my roommate.” Impatient, I shove the phone at him, making him take it.

  “Hello?” he says, looking amused. He listens for a moment, nodding. After half a minute, maybe a few seconds more, he ends the call and hands me back the phone.

  “Well?” I demand. “What did she want?”

  “Three things. First, she told me to let you know that you left the microphone on, so she’s been eavesdropping on us since we left the hotel. Second, she says before we can start dating, I have to drive you home so she can meet me in person and decide if she approves…”

  Nicole wants to meet Eric? That’s a terrible idea. A truly, horrifically bad, bad idea. No one in the guild can know she’s in hiding.

  And—hold up—I didn’t agree to date Eric. Look at her jumping the gun.

  “…and thirdly,” he continues, ignoring the stricken look of panic on my face. “She said you’ll never agree, so I should just kiss you to shut you up. Her words—not mine.”

  She’s a dead Deer. Oh, when I get my hands on her… Okay, she’s like eight inches taller than me, so I probably won’t do anything. But still.

  Thankfully, Eric looks like he finds the whole thing funny. I’m not sure of much, but I do feel confident that he’s too chivalrous to—oh my heck.

  Without a word, Eric wraps his hand around the back of my neck, all gentle-like, and closes the distance between us, pausing when we’re only a few inches apart.

  I stare at him, eyes wide, breathing too fast, heart fluttering like a hummingbird. Hesitating, his eyes search mine, giving me a mere moment to protest.

  Protest, I do not. Nope.

  I kiss him.

  That’s right—hands grasping his shoulders, leaning in, caution to the wind, oh-my-gosh-he-smells-like-summer-meadows—kiss him.

  And he kisses me back.

  His hands are in my hair, and the console digs into my stomach. I take in little details, committing the moment to memory: the way the snow blankets the windows, his warm breath on my skin.

  My name is on his lips—over and over, he says it, as if he’s just as overwhelmed as I am. As if he’s been waiting for this, wanting this, and he can’t quite believe it’s happening.

  The knight touches me like I’m precious, like he’s afraid I’ll break. Like this is more than just a couple of not-teenagers making out in the dark of night.

  I can’t think; I can’t breathe. I don’t think I’d even notice if the truck lit on fire.

  I do, however, notice the knock on the window. And then the blue and red lights.

  Mortified, shocked stupid, I pull away from Eric. Clearing his throat, the knight rolls down his window. A sheet of snow falls inside the car, right onto his lap.

  A human police officer shines his flashlight inside, frowning when he realizes that we’re way too old to be doing what he thinks we’re doing.

  “You two okay?” he asks, suppressing a grin. “Having mechanical issues?”

  “We were just talking,” Eric says calmly, though the big Bunny looks just about as sheepish as I feel.

  “A pretty good storm is headed this way,” the man says, giving us a break. “You should probably head home—you won’t want to be on the roads when the worst of it hits.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric says. “We’ll do that.”

  “You two have a good evening.”

  I nod, staring at the steering wheel, forcing a smile.

  When the officer leaves, Eric rolls up the window, silent. He buckles up, and I do the same.

  “Where’s home?” he asks, putting the truck in drive.

  I give him our Littleton address, and he pulls out of the parking lot. We’re on the road, neither of us talking, and I want to die. Suddenly, Eric begins laughing. He shakes his head, grinning as he looks straight ahead at the windshield.

  Unable to help myself, I join him, pressing my hands to my hot cheeks.

  Eventually, the truck goes quiet once again, but this time, it’s a comfortable silence. Eric shifts, and then he rests his arm on the console between us, his hand palm up. It’s an invitation—and possibly a more significant step than the kiss.

  Looking out my side window, biting the inside of my cheek, I slowly set my hand in his. His skin is rough, calloused, and his hand is enormous. I feel dwarfed next to him, tiny and…protected.

  Immediately, the knight twines his fingers through mine. It’s like a declaration, an agreement—the signing of some sort of strange contract.

  Let’s give us a try.

  10

  Eric pulls up in front of the house I share with Nicole and puts the truck in park. He looks over, waiting for an invitation to come inside so he can meet my roommate.

  Instead, I snatch his phone and hold it up so he can unlock it. I could do it, but guys don’t always like to know how quickly I can invade their privacy. Wordlessly, with a crooked, closed-mouth smile, he does as I ask.

  I add myself to his contacts.

  He nods, looking supremely satisfied. “My turn.”

  Feeling shy even though this is nothing compared to being caught making out
by a cop, I unlock my phone and hand it to him.

  He barks out a laugh, and I’m grabbing for my phone before I realize what he might have found. And then I remember.

  I already added his number after I did my slightly illegal search through his personal records.

  Grinning, keeping the phone out of my grasp and looking more than a little wicked as he does it, he turns the screen for me to read and then raises his brows.

  The Hot Bunny

  Why did I put that in his contact info? What was I thinking?

  “Let me change it,” I mumble, reaching for the phone, glad he can’t see how fiercely I’m blushing in the dark car. He holds it back, and I scramble over the console, trying to snatch it from him.

  This does nothing but plaster me against his chest as I crawl over him like a cat—putting me in the strange position of looking down at him.

  “I like it,” he says, his voice husky enough to make me shiver. “Keep it.”

  “Give me my phone,” I whisper.

  His free arm wraps around my back, holding me in place.

  Every cell in my existence wants to kiss him again, but the steering wheel is jabbing my back, my leg is twisted at a weird angle, and I have some pride.

  “Bye, Eric,” I say, attempting to slide out of his grasp.

  He doesn’t let me go. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Will you answer?”

  “Yeah.”

  Satisfied, he releases me, which is disappointing, to be honest.

  Before I step out of the car, I pull down the visor and attempt to fix my hair in the mirror’s dim light. It’s as good as it’s going to get.

  Sensing I don’t want him to walk me to the door, Eric stays put, his eyes on me. As I walk up the drive, I turn and give him a small wave, feeling supremely awkward.

  I reach the door, but I pause before I open it.

  On a whim, I turn, walk back down the drive—trying not to slip on the snow in these stupid heels—and knock on the driver’s window.

  Curious, Eric rolls it down. “What’s—”

  Before he finishes, I step up and capture his lips. It’s a quick kiss—hard and sure. He looks slightly dazed when I pull back. That’s all right—I’m dazed too.

  “Thanks for driving me home,” I whisper, biting back a smile.