His eyes darkened slightly. He wasn't unused to hearing people blaming him for their problems - but her accusation appeared genuine. It only confirmed that he had met her before.
But where? He wondered.
"If I were to rob a pretty damsel as yourself of a title, I believe I would recall."
Her gaze flickered to his and back to the dancing candle flames.
"What's an inconsequential girl to the pile of cases you see everyday?"
He leaned closer, breathing in her scent. She smelled like wild flowers and rain, not the excessive perfumes and fragrances the women at court doused themselves with.
"Forgive my poor memory, then." He sketched a little bow to punctuate his words.
Lord and Lady Hanswick watched the proceedings with thinly disguised impatience.
Three serving maids scurried into the room, bearing trays of seasoned meats and sauces.
Aurora took the seat furthest away from the hosts, forcing Claire to join her.
"Please, dig in, Your Grace. The food is getting cold." Lady Hanswick said.
Yeren nodded at her and scooped a spoonful of his soup.
"Mother!" A pretty girl with blonde hair burst into the room.
She halted immediately as the King glanced at her.
The girl fell on her face. "Your Grace. I beg your pardon."
Yeren gestured for her to rise to her feet.
Her green silk gown glowed when it caught the candlelight.
Both girls watched as she took a seat by her mother.
Claire saw that Aurora was barely eating anything.
Lord Hanswick was trying to bury his face in his food while Lady Hanswick involved herself in a vain chatter with her daughter.
Claire kept eating to distract herself. Her hands were shaking terribly. She nearly dropped the spoon twice, even almost spilling wine on herself.
Whenever she looked up, she would catch him staring at her. His eyes were hooded and unreadable, but dangerous nonetheless.
Aurora patted her knee beneath the table.
"Can we go now?" She asked.
Claire turned to her. The little girl was oblivious to the strangling tension that had been brewing at the table.
"In a little bit. It won't be polite to leave while dinner is still being eaten."
Aurora just turned back to dabbling at her food.
Lord Hanswick cleared his throat to gain the King's attention.
Claire was relieved to find him no longer staring at her.
"My Lord, if I may, I would like to inform you that a few rogue wolves and humans were caught within the city's walls. The Pack's council plans to convene a meeting during the coming full moon, Your Grace."
Yeren spared him a glance, his expression spelling out sheer boredom.
Claire wondered how such a fellow managed to keep the peace since succeeding his father.
His wife nudged him slightly, glaring at him. "There are women at the table, my lord. It is not fitting to discuss such matters here."
The lord had the sense to look abashed.
His daughter jumped in, "If I may, Your Grace, I would love to remark on how lovely your horses are."
The King nodded - as if he had received the same flattering words a thousand times before.
Aurora's spoon clattered on the table.
Everyone turned and looked at her. Claire placed a hand over hers, her brows creasing in unspoken concern.
Even the King's attention was piqued.
Aurora was unnaturally well. She was unaware of the stares she was drawing to herself.
"May I have some air?" She asked at last.
Lady Hanswick's eyes were wide with terror - as if she feared the girl might faint, or worse, retch over her polished table.
Aurora stood up, her chair grazing the stone floor loudly.
Claire averted her eyes - Aurora was too young to care about common courtesy.
"I will-"
"I'll be fine." Aurora cut her off.
She watched her sister leave the room, noticing that her stooped shoulders erected as soon as she crossed the threshold.
Now, she was all alone - a lone pup among wolves.
Her forced appetite had long since fled, leaving her to dawdle over the meal as Aurora had been doing. She had been craving such food, but now it laid in front of her, she couldn't stomach it.
Tossing her napkin aside, she finally stood up. A serving maid rushed to her side, waiting to clear the dishes away.
"I should see to my sister."
Yeren set his napkin on the table, rising gracefully.
'I can't let him escort me.' She thought to herself.
Yet, his eyes dared her - as if asking what she was most afraid of. Him or herself?
"Let me escort you, Miss Stenly."
Her throat constricted, her hands buried themselves in the shelter of her gown.
"You should not have-"
"It's no bother, my lady."
Lady Hanswick's daughter's face tightened into an ugly scowl, her lips downturning at the corners.
Nodding, she left the room without waiting to see if her self-appointed companion followed.
She could feel his gaze behind her, hear the soft scuff of his shoes on the polished floor.
He fell into step with her, his strides long and lazy.
His expensive brocade glittered under the soft glow of the candles.
The hall leading to the receiving room was empty - she couldn't be alone with him.
"I knew a Lord Stenly. He was a fine man, as fine a wolf as he was a man. He was honest to a fault. Was he your father?"
Perspiration beaded at her forehead.
"Do not bother yourself with my…"
He pushed her against a wall, caging her in with both hands.
His scent danced around her, reminding her that he wasn't just dangerous because of his power, but because he was her fated mate.
He just watched her, his dark eyes blooming with insatiable curiosity.
"Why did you reject me?"
Her throat tightened. "I need to find my sister… if you would just allow me to-"
"I am the one asking the questions, Miss Stenly."
Another gulp. Then, she met his eyes. She couldn't lie, couldn't sugarcoat the only reason that laid at the tip of her tongue.
"Because I hate you."
He didn't blink, neither did he wince. He seemed to have expected it.
Her breathing was accelerating, her knees barely able to keep her on her feet.
She even feared he could hear her thundering heartbeat.
If only a Hanswick would appear now and save her, she thought.
Sweat dripped from the base of her neck, sliding in between her breasts.
Claire hated the way her body reacted to him. Her jaws firmed, her mind cooking up verbal ammunition in case worse met worse.
"Then hate me properly." He leaned in and took her mouth, gentle at first, but intense. She had almost thought he'd step away, but he didn't.
He tasted of wine and whatever else he ate.
She tensed, sealing her lips with the willpower she had left.
But he was unrelenting. He kept stroking her lips with his tongue until she kissed him back with a moan.
No thought went through her mushed head. Her knees finally gave way and she sagged against him.
Gone was the wish that someone should intervene.
Until her senses returned like a cold slap. She stiffened, her moans dying in her throat.
Noticing the sudden change in her, he pulled away. His expression remained unreadable.
"Now, tell me how much you hate me again." His deep voice resonated through her.
He was mocking her, she realized.
She had just succumbed to the man who destroyed her life - what a fool she was.
"Let me pass." Her voice shook as she spoke.
She stared down at his arms beside her - as though if she stared long enough, they would disappear.
His eyes danced as if enjoying her torment.
Then, his hands slid away from the walls.
Claire didn't move immediately. She didn't know what she was waiting for, but she remained.
He stared back at her, undressing her with his eyes.
Claire felt her face heat up.
It was time to leave, she decided. His scent was intoxicating. He smelled of pine and something uniquely his.
The candles flickered as she walked away. The sound of her footsteps was absorbed by the plush carpeting that lined the hallway. She listened for him. He didn't make to follow her.
A servant stood at the door, holding her cloak in preparation for her to wear it.
The furry garment was draped expertly over her shoulders.
The freckled servant attempted to clasp the brooch for her but she stopped her.
Claire had become used to doing everything by herself.
The stout lady stepped away awkwardly, flushing a pretty shade of pink.
"I'm used to doing it, that's all."
She gave the portraits on the walls one more glance before heading out. The wolves seemed to be staring back at her with their ancient eyes.
The wind was chilling outside in comparison to the warmth she just left.
The rain was merciless, thundering down on everything and splashing mud everywhere.
She pulled her cloak tighter around herself.
Where had Aurora gone?
Had she dared to go back to the house on her own?
The servants that had been gathered at the entrance earlier had dispersed. There was no one she could ask.
Deciding to ask any servant she could find, she turned back to the house.
Tiny droplets of water glistened on the fur of her cloak.
The door opened before she could knock.
There he stood.
Her hands froze mid-air. She coloured instantly - not from the cold. She could still taste him despite herself.
"Forgot something?" He asked.
His breath fogged in front of her as he spoke. His long black cloak completely covered his elegant clothing.
"No. As a matter of fact…"
"Where is your sister?"
She reached out a hand towards the pillar beside her to steady herself.
"I don't know, Your Grace."
He looked beyond her. It was getting dark.
Her heart clenched.
Aurora could get lost on her own.
Or worse, she could be harmed.
"I'll help you find her."
Claire's breath caught.
His carriage rolled forward until its entrance faced them.
She didn't move. But, she knew it would be stupid of her to run off under the heavy rain.
"Let me." He said, holding her hand and guiding her into the carriage.
His hands were warm where he touched her. It tickled her all the way to her toes, but she ignored it.
He climbed in beside her.
She couldn't meet his gaze. How would she even thank him?
"Where do you think she would go first?"
She didn't blink. "Home."
"And where is your home?"
She froze. She hadn't thought it through.
Claire couldn't allow the King to see the ruin she called a home.
"In Loodswood, about two miles from here." The words nearly stuck in her throat.
Yet she wondered - who was she more afraid for, her sister or herself?