Guard the Crown: The Royal Alphas

by H Q Kingsley

  I looked around, and it seemed like everyone had taken notice of Zyke, and they were all looking at him with varying degrees of anger, disgust, and hostility.

  “Two house specials,” I said, pitching my voice loud enough to draw the bartender's attention back to me. “Please.”

  He snorted and went to get glasses, starting to make the drinks. “Saw you come in,” he said, glancing up as he poured whiskey into each glass. “You in some kind of trouble?”

  I frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”"

  “Just wondering what you did to get stuck with the weirdo prince over there.” He jerked his head in Zyke's direction. “I mean, don't get me wrong, none of us have got any love for King Heydar and his bullshit, but that one? That one's just a freak.”

  As soon as those words came out of his mouth, I saw red. He kept talking, but it was like his voice was muted and his mouth was moving, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat in my own head and the echo of the word 'freak' pinging around, making me angrier.

  Because how fucking dare he?

  Before I had time to think it through, I was lunging across the bar and grabbing the front of his shirt, sending the glasses he'd been pouring scattering and spilling whiskey over the already stained wood.

  My hands were balled into fists, and I could feel the primal instinct to make this asshole pay for daring to disrespect Zyke like that burning through me.

  I could smell his sudden rush of fear and see the look of wide-eyed surprise on his face, and all I could think was: Good. He deserved it.

  I wanted to hurt him, and I lifted him up, about to slam his head into the wood of the bar before I felt hands on me, pulling me back, and the yelling of the other people in the bar filtered through my rage.

  “Let him go!” someone shouted, and I exhaled harshly, letting the bartender go as instructed.

  I lifted my hands in a gesture of peace and stepped back, making it clear I had no intention of hurting him further.

  Before I turned to leave, though, I grabbed two bottles from the shelf behind the bar and then dug in my pockets, finding more than enough money to pay for the alcohol. I tossed it on the bar with a sneer. At least working for the king had some perks.

  Everyone was watching as I made my way back over to Zyke, who was also watching me like I might go off at any second.

  “Come on,” I said. “This place isn't as good as I remember it being. We should get out of here.”

  He followed me, quiet and stunned, his arms clutching his bear, and when we got back in the car, his head whipped around to stare at me.

  “W-what the hell was that?” he asked.

  I didn't want to get into it, so I just shrugged it off. “Bad blood, I guess. But here, look.” I held up the two bottles I'd managed to grab on the way out. “I got what we need.”

  Zyke didn’t seem to hear me. “Y-you attacked that man!”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  Zyke stared at me, his eyes wide and horrified, and I softened.

  I tried to reach out for him, and he shrank back, clutching his bear tighter.

  A pain went through me at the fear in his eyes. “Zyke, I would never hurt you,” I said, and the look in his eyes changed a little.

  His grip on his bear loosened. “Yeah, I know,” he said and relief flooded me. I didn’t know how he knew, but I was glad he did.

  “I just...he said some things to me and…” I sighed. “Sometimes I get really angry about stuff and maybe I overreact a little. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  Zyke nodded, and when I reached out to touch him again, he let me, but only for a moment before he jumped back again, but this time not out of fear. If I had to guess, maybe he felt the same electric shock when I touched him that I did.

  “Where are we going now?” Zyke asked as he stepped toward the car.

  “Let's just find somewhere quiet,” I suggested as I climbed into the passenger seat. The fewer people we had to deal with, the better, apparently.

  Zyke nodded and got the car going again, and he drove for a bit before we found a nice hill that looked out over the walls of the capital.

  It was as quiet as it got, and I'd take it.

  “Here?” Zyke asked without actually looking at me.

  “Yeah, here is good,” I said, climbing out of the car and onto the hood.

  I patted the spot next to me and helped Zyke to climb up to get to it.

  It was beautiful, staring out at everything below us on the hill.

  I popped open one of the bottles, a dark rum from the label, and took a generous swig before passing it to Zyke.

  He hesitantly reached out to take it, and I arched a brow.

  “Have you ever had a drink before?” I asked him.

  He shook his head, and I wasn't even a little surprised. There was a pretty obvious innocence to him that I found charming.

  There was a look of hesitation on his face as he wrapped fingers around the neck of the bottle and pulled it closer to him. He put it to his nose, and his face scrunched.

  “I'd say it tastes better than it smells, but that would be a lie.” I chuckled. “You really don't get out much do you, kid?"

  Zyke just shrugged. “There's not much out there for me, so I don't really see the point, I guess.”

  He said it so easily as if it was just a fact of life that he was supposed to be locked up in the palace and treated like shit, and it was more than a little frustrating to hear it.

  The burn of the alcohol was settling into my stomach already, and I didn't take time to think about what I was saying before I said it. I felt reckless, and I didn't care.

  “If people knew you were trying to make life better for them, they wouldn't be such assholes,” I said. “I heard what you were saying in that meeting today. You have good ideas. A good head for what people need. And it's shitty nobody listened to you.” I shook my head, looking down at the lights of the capital. “If someone like you had ruled Belaria, then things would have been different.”

  He was quiet for a bit, just sitting there. “Someone like me does rule now, I guess,” Zyke said finally. “I've read and heard amazing things about the rebel who stood up to the king and took the throne with the prince at his side.” The way he said it made it sound like a romantic fairy tale, and he even sighed at the end, his eyes big and dreamy.

  It left a bad taste in my mouth, and I winced at the mention of Chase, thinking about him ruling Belaria with his brand new mate. They were doing good things for the people, and yeah, it was romantic in a way, but that didn't make me feel any less shitty about it, and I popped open the second bottle. Tequila. Perfect. And started downing it, needing to chase the feeling away.

  The silence stretched between us for a bit, and I sighed, rubbing my face. Despite all the shit in my head and how the night had started, it was nice to just sit there with him.

  After a few minutes, Zyke cleared his throat, and I looked over at him.

  His fingers were clutching the bottle still, and his arm was wrapped around his bear, and there was a flush on his face, even though he hadn't even had a sip of alcohol yet.

  “Do you really think I have good ideas?” he asked. His eyes were big and earnest, and there was something so fucking cute about his shy search for validation that all I wanted to do was tell him how wonderful he was forever.

  I nodded because I'd meant what I said, and Zyke's whole face lit up in a smile.

  It was the first time I'd seen him look that happy, that bright and open, and it took my goddamned breath away. That pull that I'd felt the first night was back, magnetic and impossible to ignore, and I almost forgot how to breathe.

  It was overwhelming, and every instinct in me was urging me to grab him, to close that distance, to kiss him and hold him and make sure he knew how special he was.

  Instead, I drank more, chugging it down and wiping my mouth afterward.

  I couldn't just do whatever I wanted here. At the very least, I'd get
fired for daring to put my hands on a prince or whatever.

  Still smiling, Zyke lifted the bottle in his hand to offer a cheers, and I clinked mine with his, watching as he took his first sip.

  It went about as well as I'd expected, and he went into a coughing fit from the burn of it.

  I couldn't help but laugh, patting his back while he wheezed. “The first sip is always the roughest,” I said. “Always burns like hell.”

  He was warm through his shirt, and I switched from patting him to rubbing his back in soothing circles. And even when the coughing and wheezing faded and he seemed fine again, I kept touching him.

  I couldn't seem to stop. It was like my hand was glued to his back and I needed to keep soothing him, rubbing and then caressing his back, lingering when I really, really shouldn't have been.

  Finally, Zyke cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he murmured, and there was something shaky in his tone. He was clutching that bear for dear life, and I knew him well enough at that point to know I'd made him uncomfortable.

  Holding onto that bear was the first thing he did when he was overwhelmed or under pressure, and I felt bad for being the one to make him feel that way.

  I pulled away entirely, putting some distance between us, kicking myself for getting carried away. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable around me, and I clearly couldn't control my damned self when I was too close to him. I scooted over to put some distance between us.

  Get a fucking grip, Omar.

  8

  Zyke

  “Alright,” Omar said, reaching over to take the bottle from my hands. “That's enough. I'm cutting you off.”

  I blinked at him but had to admit he was right. I'd only had about four sips of the rum, but the world was already starting to spin a bit, and I felt like I was going to tip over if I moved too much in either direction.

  I was warm and hazy, and my face felt a little numb. I kept poking my nose to make sure it was still there and then laughed a little when it was each time.

  But I felt okay. Better than okay, even. I felt good.

  For the first time ever, I felt light and...free. It was an amazing feeling. Why hadn't I started drinking sooner if it made me feel so good?

  “I should have started doing this sooner,” I said, swaying a little where I sat.

  Omar laughed and shook his head. “It’s not the best habit to pick up, believe me.”

  “Do you know,” I said, just letting my mouth run away with me. “That I like it when you laugh? It sounds good.”

  “I like it when you laugh, too,” Omar replied without missing a beat.

  Before I could say anything, he was leaning over and putting a finger under my chin, using it to lift my face so I was looking at him. “I like it even more when you actually look at me,” he murmured.

  I couldn’t stop looking at him in that moment. My eyes were wide, and I could feel that flush on my face again, but I couldn’t look away.

  His eyes were so dark and his face was so handsome, and it felt like there was electricity in the air, crackling between us and holding us together. It was hard to know if that was really happening or if it was just the alcohol, though.

  It was too much. I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling, and it was hard to tell if Omar was feeling things or if it was just the booze. I didn’t want to make things awkward, and I didn’t want to do something I would regret when I came to my senses, so I tried to move away.

  I forgot, of course, about my lack of balance at the moment, and when I scooted to the side, I also swayed to the side and nearly toppled off of the car to the ground.

  But Omar was there, because Omar was always there, and he caught me, pulling me back upright. The feeling of his hands on me practically burned, but in a good way. An intoxicating way. Like that first burn of the drink. Almost too much, but good enough that it made me want more.

  It was dangerous to feel like that.

  “We should probably get you home,” Omar said softly. “Put you to bed and let you sleep it off before you hurt yourself.”

  I nodded because he was right. I needed to go to bed. Bed sounded very nice. Soft and comfortable and not in danger of me doing something stupid.

  “I can't drive like this,” I admitted. I could barely drive sober.

  “That's okay,” he said. “I have a better idea.” He moved off of the hood of the car and pulled his shirt over his head, showing off those muscles again.

  I immediately grabbed for Teddy. “I told you I don't want to shift,” I said.

  “You don't have to. I can carry you. All you have to do is get on.”

  He was taking off the rest of his clothes and shifting before I could unstick my tongue and say anything else. I watched as fur rippled and his body changed, his bones breaking and sliding and shifting into place until he was in front of me in lion form.

  Of course he was massive, just as big as he was as a person, and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to get on.

  I swallowed, trying to clear away the dryness in my throat. It was awkward, but I slid off of the car, still clutching my bear as I figured out how to get on Omar's back.

  I tried not to pull his fur or step on him in a weird way, and after a moment, I got settled, managing to hold on and keep Teddy tucked under my arm.

  And actually...it was better than I'd been expecting. He was so soft and warm, and I wanted to nuzzle right into his fur and stay there.

  Omar waited long enough for me to get settled, and then he was off, racing down the hill that we'd parked on, heading for the trees.

  He ran so fast that the wind whipped past my cheeks, stinging a little and making my eyes water.

  But I couldn't close them. There was something amazing about racing through the woods at that speed, holding on for dear life while my heart galloped in my chest.

  I thought I would be afraid, but it was exhilarating. Maybe the alcohol was making me braver, too.

  Omar's scent was all around me, and I lowered my head, nuzzling right against him so I could breathe it in more. That earthy smell that was almost like a part of the woods itself.

  I didn't realize how comfortable and excited I was until I noticed I was hard as a rock in my jeans.

  And oh, gods. I'd let myself relax too much. Or the alcohol was making things worse. Or better? I couldn't decide. I knew I was blushing, but there wasn't really much I could do one way or another. I was stuck for the duration of the ride, and with the way his body moved as he ran, rubbing against me, I knew it wasn't going to go away.

  Could Omar feel it? Could he tell I was so hard against him just from this? Gods, I hoped not.

  I bit back a whimper when he leaped over a fallen log, arousal and need jolting through me.

  Before I knew what was happening, I could feel that pleasure starting to build, the constant press of Omar’s back, the way his scent was wrapped around me. I thought about how he’d lifted my chin before, making me look at him, and I just couldn’t help myself. It was all too much, and I bit my lip hard as I lost control and made a mess in my pants as I came with a whimper.

  Shame burned through me, and as soon as we stopped in front of the palace, I was clambering off of him and practically running to my room.

  My jeans were sticky, and I groaned softly, going to the bathroom to try and wash away the stain and some of my shame at the same time.

  I couldn’t believe I’d done that. I’d gotten too comfortable. And I shouldn’t have been drinking because clearly the only thing that happened was I made a fool of myself. How was I ever going to be able to look Omar in the eye again after that? I scrubbed frantically at the front of my pants, breathing hard, and when there was a knock on the door, I jumped, squeaking in surprise.

  “It’s me. Can I come in?” Omar’s voice echoed through the closed door, and I closed my eyes, feeling my face burn with the shame.

  “I-I’m getting ready for bed,” I called back.

  “Please?�
� Omar asked, and that was enough to make me walk to the door. I couldn’t say no to him.

  I sighed and opened the door, keeping my eyes trained down.

  Omar came in, filling the room with his presence. “I just wanted to make sure you got into bed okay,” he said, and his voice was soft in the dim light of my bedroom.

  I nodded, still flushed red. “Yeah. I’m going, I...was just trying to clean up first.” My pants were even more of a mess than they had been before, wet in the front from the water, and I gestured to them, still not meeting Omar’s eyes.

  He didn't seem bothered, though. There was no ridicule. He just said “Okay,” in that matter of fact way he had and then stepped closer.

  I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine and didn’t need help, but then there were arms around me, and my feet were off the ground as Omar scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing at all.

  My mouth was still open, surprise clear on my face as he carried me over to the bed and set me down gently.

  “Do you have pants you want to change into?” he asked as he stepped back.

  “I have some pajama pants in the drawer,” I said, gesturing to the long dresser that ran the length of one of the walls of my room, and I couldn’t really believe this was happening. I was still embarrassed to have Omar see me like this, and when he went to pull out the pants and I remembered they had cartoon ducks on them, I just wanted to crawl under the bed and die.

  But he didn’t seem to care about that, either. He just grabbed them and slung them over a shoulder before coming back over to me. His fingers found the button and zipper on my jeans, and I gasped, wiggling back and away from him, trying to bat his hands away.

  The last thing I wanted was for him to see me without pants. I’d never taken my clothes off in front of anyone before, and I knew that compared to Omar and his glorious muscles and thick body, I was going to seem especially scrawny.

  Despite how short I was, I had lanky legs, and they were more like bird legs than anything else, all knobbly and skinny. Omar was perfect, and I was a mess, and just the thought of him seeing me like that filled me with dread.