SAVANNAH
"Your Ma...!"
"Don't you dare!" Fenrir barked angrily, and the man's mouth snapped shut, as if sealed by an invisible force.
I realized he preferred to go unnoticed, avoiding flaunting his title whenever possible.
The newcomer froze in the middle of the room, and the diners at the tables didn't dare to look at us directly, but it was obvious that they were all ears, eager for the gossip.
"Savannah, go up to the room," his deep voice ordered me, and I nodded, watching him leave toward the exit with that werewolf who, despite his submission, seemed to be an Alpha.
I ascended the creaky, worn stairs to the top floor, while the staff fetched our luggage.
Walking down the narrow corridor, I reached the door marked with the number on the key—supposedly the 'largest' room available.
"This can't be true," I muttered, almost pulling my hair out. "This is beyond frustrating." I tossed my cloak aside and glared at the small bed crammed against one wall.
A door with glass panels led to a tiny balcony, while a screen divided the sleeping area from a rustic wooden tub.
Even with just the King, this room felt cramped. Add one more, and... "Am I sleeping in the bathtub?" I groaned.
Resigned, I walked to the little balcony door and opened it, gazing at the small, old village in the distance, filled with wooden houses with tall chimneys emitting dark smoke.
We were in the middle of a valley surrounded by mountains.
For some reason, it reminded me of my original pack—the place where I was born, and where my parents were taken from me on that tragic, confusing day.
"Is sharing a room with me really so unbearable that you look like someone died?"
A rough whisper suddenly sounded in my ear, making me tense and snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Your Majesty, I... You won't have any privacy or space..."
"Don't call me 'Your Majesty,'" he corrected me, but he didn't move an inch, and I felt his heavy breath falling on my neck.
"I can decide for myself whether I'm uncomfortable or not. Besides, why are you so concerned? Afraid I might take advantage of you at night?" His voice was rough, laced with amusement, though the joke felt misplaced.
"Why would the King take advantage of his ugly maiden when he can have any beautiful woman in his bed?" I muttered, my gaze falling to the floor.
The words came out more bitterly than I intended.
Suddenly, a firm hand gripped my waist, spinning me around to face King Fenrir.
My heart raced, hammering against my chest as he pressed me close, leaving no space between us.
He grabbed my neck, his touch possessive, tilting my head to meet his cold, deep gray eyes—like the moon on a winter night.
"Never call yourself ugly, useless, or any other trash like that in my presence again. Anyone who dares insult you, I'll rip their throat out," he growled, his voice deadly.
His rough fingers traced the scars on my face—soft and harsh, gentle yet commanding. Everything about Fenrir was so confusing.
For some reason, I wanted to cry, remembering the brutal way I was marked, how my baby was forcibly ripped from my womb.
"Lord..." A lump formed in my throat, choking my words. I felt my eyes redden, but I fought back the tears. I wouldn't cry—not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.
"Just tell me one thing, I haven't dared to ask you because it's your private life, but I can't stand it any longer, Savannah. Is the bastard who did something so cruel to you alive or dead?" His voice grew darker, an overwhelming rage radiating from him.
"Dead, he was my ex-mate," I answer without hesitation but without giving further details. "I killed him with my own hands, I did it."
"What a pity," he spat through clenched teeth. "I would've preferred him alive."
His words made me flash back to that bloody scene at the wall. Maybe Ragnar had died too quickly, too easily.
"And you're completely mistaken, Savannah," he suddenly added, lowering his tone as his face slowly approached mine. "You shouldn't feel so safe next to me. Any man would die to penetrate you deeply, to touch you, smell and lick your delicious cunt, to kiss those plump, sexy lips..."
It was as if he ached for everything he described.
Heat surged through me, as intense as the wine in my blood. His raw desire was clear in his eyes as he moved closer, his mouth almost brushing mine.
Our breaths mingled, heavy with tension. His thumb stroked my lower lip, gently parting it from the upper one, leaving me open for him.
What do I do in this overwhelming situation? Why is the King behaving like this?
Despite his dominant demeanor, I could resist. I could say no, just like in the dungeon. But as his hand on the back of my neck pushed me forward, and the other hand on my waist, almost at the edge of my buttocks, pressed me against his hard erection.
I closed my eyes and parted my lips, ready to drown in that smoky wine, to savor him and let go, if only for a few moments.
His lips brushed mine, a tantalizing tease.
Then he pulled back, his voice rough and full of regret. "No... this is a mistake." his strangled voice whispered, then he abruptly pulled away, breaking the spell and leaving me completely humiliated.