I curl up from the seat, mouth open in a groan of relief of that doesn't make a sound. My thighs tremble and tense, and I come so hard my hand and my panties get soaked. The fantasy is so fresh and vivid in my mind, I'm surprised to find myself still dressed and safe behind the wheel of my car, though I'm panting and sweating. I grab some tissue from the glove compartment and clean up the mess on my hand, my thighs, and the leather seat between them.
How am I supposed to be with Nathan, alone, without climbing on him? I'm starting to hope I really am just hard up and imagining our attraction. I'm in a mating pact with someone. Fucking someone else is not allowed.
But I will never feel for Ashton the things I feel for Nathan. I can barely tolerate Ashton's touch, while I long for Nathan's. The idea of letting Ashton inside my body disgusts me, and I'm certain it's going to take more than duty to get me into our wedding bed. If Nathan were here, right now, I would beg him to fuck me. I wouldn't care how ridiculous the request sounded, given that we've barely spoken to each other. I would crawl on my hands and knees and beg.
That's dangerous, considering his invitation. Does he think I'll show up eager to please him, ready to do whatever he commands because he's the king? Because I would do anything he commanded, and more, and not because he's the king and has that power over me. I want to give myself to him totally. I want him to hold me down and wring every last ounce of strength from me with his hands and his tongue and his cock.
So, it's decided, then: I'm definitely not going to go to the royal residence. I'll have to send my regrets because I can't possibly behave.
When my heart rate is reasonably under control and my vision clears, I raise the seat again and put the car into drive. I'm not satiated. I'm not sure I ever can be, if I'm never going to know what it feels like to give Nathan Frost all of myself.
I wonder if he's out there in the forest right now, relieving his lust for me with some other member of the pack. With someone else's mate. Though I hate the thought of it now, it might be the only way I'll ever be able to be with him. Things happen at the full moon, or so I've heard, that aren't acceptable the rest of the month.
By the time I get home, the adrenaline has worn off. I shuffle up the wide staircase and into my room, where I barely get my shoes off before I collapse on the bed. But deeply instilled discipline dies hard, and Mother always stressed the importance of a nighttime skincare routine. By the time I get my face scrubbed clean and I've changed into my pajamas, I'm beyond exhausted. It will be a miracle if I can get up in time for brunch.
I've only been asleep for a few hours when I jerk awake to the sound of my Mother's outraged voice shouting, "What the hell is this?"
I rub my eyes.
Mother stands beside my bed, holding the note from Nathan.
This can't be happening.
I sit up and yank the note from Mother's hand. "You went through my purse?"
"What do you think you're doing?" she hisses, disregarding my question. "You are in a mating pact. You can't see another man behind your fiancé's back!"
"I'm not seeing anyone. I'm sure you read it. It's an invitation to make up for—"
"It is an invitation to gossip. To scandal and ruin." She snatches the card back and rips it in half, then in half again before dropping the pieces to the carpet. "How long has this been going on?"
"How long has what been going on?" I almost argue that I've only been home for a few days, but then I remember that as far as everyone else in the pack is concerned, I could be a spy for Greater London. Maybe she thinks I was banging the king like a drum there, long before he seized the throne here.
Maybe she thinks I have something to do with him taking over the pack.
"You know exactly what I'm asking," Mother insists. "How long have you and the king been seeing each other?"
I press my fingertips to my temples. "Up until a week ago, I've been living with humans. Not werewolves, humans. I didn't even know Nathan was king until—"
"Nathan?" Her eyes narrow as she seizes on this new, unintentional evidence. "You didn't know Nathan was king?"
"I-it's his name," I stumble guiltily. "It's how he signed the note. If you didn't rip it up, you could check and see."