11

Khal Drogo.

“You want her?”

“You want her, Drogo. Don’t pretend.” Ragar, my stupid wolf laughs—maniacally this time.

I close my eyes and so, he decides to give me images of her. The first image he gives me is one where her legs wrap around my waist like a gift and her hips lift to meet every thrust.

In the second, she is bent against the headboard of our great bed. My hand will own her waist and I will drive into her honeypot until she’s breathless.

The third—my mouth is on her breast; her fingers are buried in my hair and her body is full with my seed.

“Your Majesty?”

“Your Majesty?”

I blink and realize that I am in front of sixty-two ministers of the parliament and just like the number, this parliament is called the Sixty-Two Fangs.

“Yes?” I exhale, resting my elbows on the wolf-bone arms of my throne.

“We have reason to believe that our future queen is not willing to let go of her human culture yet.” Kaden, the Minister of Legacies, starts. Legacy meaning, it’s his job is to make sure our tradition does not move an inch.

it is also his job to make sure that the throne continues to follow due procedures. I already know what this is—they have heard about what she wore and now they want to bleed me dry for it. Throgo is also here, present in his ministerial robes.

“She is a human girl.” Ozaiah speaks before I do. “She deserves some grace for she will make mistakes.”

“I believe I was talking to the king.” He looks at her. Oh, did I mention Kaden is her ex-husband too? Bitter doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“I don’t want to be a douchebag, your Majesty, but a human girl… I think we all find it difficult to believe that she survived a night with you.”

“Because I’m a monster?” I ask, and Clifford snickers at my left.

“A—” Kaden starts to stammer.

“You all were present when the Fanguards sniffed and accepted her. If she were not truly my mate, her limbs would be separate from her. Just because she wept in the presence of wolves she has never seen in her life doesn’t mean you should disintegrate her.” I tell him.

“Yes.” Kaden stiffs.

“But is she prepared to be the queen Basgiath needs?” one of Throgo’s lapdogs rises, voice loud with nothing to say. “We are the strongest of all wolf kingdoms. We wage war, we fight with claws—”

I cut in. “She is to be protected, not thrown into claw and blood. I already do the fighting even as king—so what exactly are you asking for?”

“I believe he means the throne needs a strong queen.” Throgo smiles at me from his seat.

I glance across the table. “And how many of you would dare raise your hand to say she isn’t strong?” That is a trick question so no one moves. They know the moment one hand rises, they’ve declared mutiny against the Moon’s will. Against me.

“No hands?” I tilt my head. “Then let it be known—there will be no more talk about the queen’s strength. She is my mate, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. That bond is sealed.”

Talon, whose position is shield of Alpha—trained to track and kill anything that breathes against the crown speaks. “Good, we all stand with the king.”

“How is the coronation coming along?” I ask Sylvia.

“It is progressing well, your Majesty. We are preparing to receive millions of citizens from across the villages. Many are eager to see what the human queen is like…”

Sylvia’s voice turns to dust in my mind as I think of Akemi. I told her to her face an hour ago that I could feel the warmth in between my legs. Yet, I was hardening the entire time, willing it to stay that way.

Since becoming king, sex has been a duty: plant a seed, hope for an heir. But when I held her, laid her down, whispered what I’d do to her—my blood burned. 

Not just to plant a seed, but to stay buried inside her, to watch her lips part in breathlessness because of me. That is rare for me to wish.

I know I must be gentle when the times comes to have her. Even if she were a wolf, I’d have to tread carefully. She's human. Delicate. That’s why I’m practicing this intimacy, and it’s working—on her. But in exchange? It’s making me hungrier.

And I have my wolf to thank for this nonsense.

"What are you thinking about?" Clifford whispers to my ear.

If he can tell that I'm drifting, that means others probably can—not that it stops them from running their mouths in front of me like I’m not here. My thoughts are too far, tangled in the silk of a moon-colored robe and the shape of a girl who makes my blood run hot.

"I heard you're hiring both of her brothers to oversee the farmlands on the coast? You trust the queen's family already." Throgo interrupts the speaker.

“Would you rather do the job?” My voice is bored, but the weight of it shuts half the room up.

“Her father was a farmer. We werewolves pride ourselves on sharpening claws and leaving blood on the battlefield, but when it comes to feeding our people—we know nothing. Humans are better harvesters. They increase tax on the food they sell us, they restrict our trade, they eat the best of the earth because they know how to take from it. We do not. So, no, don't pretend we’re doing her family a favor. Her brothers are my in-laws.”

“Can you even call them that? They sold her to you for a bride price large enough to buy an entire province.” Throgo laughs.

"No. That wasn't a price for her. It was a gift for the bigger gift they gave to me." I answer in a manner of words he may not know how to contradict. I am not only king because I know how to break bones—I am educated in every aspect and that brings a muscle to his jaw.

And no—I’m not saying all this just to defend Akemi. I don’t know her well enough yet.

But I know myself. And no queen of mine will be insulted while I sit in the room.

I rise to my feet. Parliament lasts three hours minimum and I’ve never once walked out before it’s complete. However, something about the way she looked in that Moon robe is messing with my head. I need to know what she’s doing.

“The meeting—” Ozaiah raises her brow at me.

“Kaden, summarize your argument. I’ll review it later—I have something else to attend to.”

I rise, and every minister scrambles to their feet to bow. No one is permitted to sit while I stand—not even Throgo, no matter how much he wants to stay glued to that seat like it’s his throne.

Ozaiah’s heels are the first to follow me out.

“You had two more hours in that meeting. Is something important? You never miss your sessions.” She asks.

“Apparently I do now.”

Before she can press, Clifford’s voice comes from behind us, far too loud and far too smug.

“I think he’s going to see the queen.”

I stop cold and turn halfway. “I am not going to see her.”

He lifts a finger and points behind me. “Oh, there she is.”

I spin but there’s no one there.

A growl guts from my throat. “I demote you.”

I continue walking, and of course, he follows me.

“Ozaiah’s not with us anymore. You can tell me what you really think of the queen.”

“She’s human.” I take the left corridor.

“That much is obvious. But I know you, Drogo.” Clifford sidesteps and places himself directly in front of my path. “You’ve resented humans ever since the attack on—well, we both know. You’ve talked about cutting all trade with them, bringing war to their doorstep. Yet, suddenly the Moon Goddess ties your soul to one of them. Isn’t that just poetic?”

I stare at him and at his truth.

I’ve built my kingdom on the belief that humans are weak, deceptive, self-serving. And now I find myself with a mate who smells of sunlight and cinnamon.

"I need an heir. So, I pretend she is not human."

"Reduce your voice." Clifford scratches his brows.

"I think she knows that already, Clifford. And if she doesn't, she'll know it soon enough."

"She is behind you." Clifford grits his teeth.

"Yeah, of fucking course." I roll my eyes—expecting another one of his cheap jabs until I turn and there she is.

With lips parted like she’s been standing there long enough to hear too much.