SAVANNAH
I mustered up courage from a place I hadn't even known existed and tried to turn, careful not to let the basket sway too much in my hands.
"L-Lord, the towel… I can replace it with a new one. I'm sorry for bringing it up, it was just… just a conversation without ill intentions…," I stammered.
I couldn't even find the right words, but my heart raced erratically as he stepped toward me, his shadow completely engulfing mine.
He loomed over me like a giant, filling all the space around.
A solid wall at my back made retreat impossible.
"Answer my question, Savannah, and don't play smart with me," he snapped, shoving the basket aside with one hand and stepping closer. My only barrier of defense was gone.
"Do you prefer being with another guardian? Perhaps the handsome Reece, who seemed to catch your eye?"
There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and I didn't understand why he was so angry—I hadn't said anything wrong!
"No, My Lord, I'm happy to serve you. I don't even know the other Guardians," I murmured, staring down at his black leather boots.
The strong scent of wine hit my nose, making me feel a little dizzy. His skin glistened with sweat—he must've been training too.
"Liar," he growled, his voice low and hoarse.
I froze as his fingers clamped around my chin, forcing me to look up.
My bangs fell back, revealing my plain face, and I felt a surge of embarrassment as I met his sharp, deep gray eyes.
"Like it or not, the moment you stepped into my room as my maid, you became mine. Don't think for a second you can choose anyone else, Savannah," he warned, his face leaning dangerously close to mine.
His breath fanned over my skin, and my eyes flicked to his cruel yet captivating lips.
"No one touches what's mine. You answer only to me. If any other guardian—or anyone, for that matter—asks something of you or tries to give you orders, you tell them no. Understand?" he demanded.
I nodded, swallowing hard. He was too close, making me stand on tiptoe just to meet his gaze.
He held me like that for a few tense seconds, his eyes scanning my face as if analyzing something. I could never guess what was going through this man's mind.
Finally, he released me, stepping back with the forceful stride of a wild animal, disappearing down the hall.
I watched him go, my eyes lingering on his broad, sweaty back, the sleeveless navy shirt clinging to his hard muscles. As my gaze drifted down to his strong arm, I noticed something.
"Wait, Your Majesty!..." He'd taken my basket!
***
The kitchen, usually bustling with gossiping maids, felt oddly quiet today. Helen had mentioned getting the day off for the pack festival, but that didn't concern me. My entire life revolved around attending to King Fenrir, so I continued serving the dinner plates as usual.
I was carrying a tray when a sudden scream startled me. I turned toward the stove and saw a maid, hunched over, crying. Blood stained the tiles beneath her. She cut her hand badly while chopping meat.
"Wait, I'll get you a clean cloth," I quickly set the tray aside and grabbed a white cloth to help her.
"Th-thank you," she whimpered in pain as I wrapped the wound. "Oh, Goddess, how am I supposed to finish chopping all this meat today?"
I looked at the pile of bloody red meat halfway chopped on the wooden board. The truth was, without more staff and with such a heavy task, she couldn't do it alone.
"I'll help you, Rosy," came a voice behind me. Another maid arrived, still on duty.
With the situation under control, I continued on to deliver the King's dinner.
Entering the room, which he liked to keep half-dark, like a beast's den, and began setting the plates on the table.
"Savannah, come here for a moment," his deep, gravelly voice called from his quarters.
I had come to realize that the bed where he slept with his lovers wasn't even his private room. I knocked on the heavy door, and his voice told me to enter. I rarely came in here; I didn't like invading his personal space.
The room was dominated by an enormous ebony four-poster bed, with a work desk in the center, a black leather sofa beneath the wide window, and a spacious wardrobe beside his private bathroom.
"Help me pick out my clothes; I've got to attend some damned celebration to honor the Goddess," he grumbled. "I'm going to bathe—find something suitable in the wardrobe."
Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me to decide what he should wear.
"Alright, remember you were once a Luna, even if it was a fake title," I muttered to myself, recalling my time dressing Ragnar.
His wardrobe was enormous, filled with exquisite garments, though I rarely saw him wear anything but his combat uniform.
I picked out a few options and made my way back into the room, only to be greeted by the sight of his bare, muscular back as he bent over, pulling on his underwear.
Two heavy bags hung between his legs. I quickly averted my gaze, embarrassed—modesty was clearly not in this man's vocabulary.
It didn't surprise me that previous maids had probably been tempted to throw themselves at him. Was he this casual with everyone?
"Well, I'm ready. I'm all yours," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. I cautiously glanced back at him.
"Dress me, my maid. If I look ridiculous at the party, it will be entirely your responsibility."