Chapter 31

Warning: This chapter contains sexual content and explicit language. Reader discretion is advised.

Adira sat in the King’s chambers, initially reading but now staring into the fire. The King had been plagued by nightmares, so Adira, Duncan, and the King’s butler, Alfred, took turns watching over him while he slept. The King’s doctor prescribed sleeping pills, but they weren’t always effective.

Alfred, the butler, was an odd, old-fashioned man. Duncan had explained that Alfred’s reserved nature stemmed from his traditional upbringing, only speaking to Adira directly if Duncan was present and permitted it. Despite his quirks, Alfred was devoted to the King, though his habit of appearing silently out of nowhere unnerved Adira. Two nights ago, she had fallen asleep during her watch and woke to find a soft blanket draped over her. Since Duncan had been on patrol with Jack and hadn’t returned, she assumed Alfred was responsible—a kind gesture from the quiet servant.

The King’s maid, however, was Alfred’s opposite. She was a fountain of gossip, sharing news of births, deaths, and family drama throughout the kingdom. Fiercely loyal to the King, she once chased off a prince’s servant who spoke ill of him, wielding a broom until he fled. That servant was never seen again.

Adira’s wolf, Artemis, had been restless lately. At first, Adira attributed it to her pregnancy and recent events, but Artemis insisted it was something else—a lurking presence she couldn’t identify.

The door clicked, and Duncan entered. They communicated via mind-link to avoid disturbing the King. “Are you alright, little wolf?” Duncan asked.

“Yes, all’s well, but I’m exhausted and might fall asleep,” Adira replied. “The bigger my belly gets, the more tired I am.”

“Want me to stay so you can rest?” Duncan offered. “Jack’s got his buddies patrolling, so I’m free. Or I can call Alfred to take over, and we can both go to bed.”

“Would Alfred mind?”

“No, he’s been asking to take more shifts so you can rest.”

“Alright, call Alfred, and then take me to our room. I miss sleeping in your arms.”

As if on cue, Alfred appeared, his silent presence startling as always. Duncan nodded to him, then scooped Adira into his arms and carried her to their room. Once inside, he locked the door and ran a bath for them both.

When he returned, already undressed, Adira began to remove her clothes, but Duncan stopped her. “No, my little wolf, I want that privilege myself.” He undressed her slowly, starting with her shoes and socks, then her shirt, unbuttoning it one by one until she stood naked before him.

“It’s been too long since we’ve had time just for us,” Duncan said. “Jack gave me tomorrow off, so you’re mine all day and night.”

He carried her to the oversized bathtub, settling her between his legs as he lathered her with soap, his hands lingering over her body. As he circled her belly gently, she felt his erection against her back. Smiling, she moved her hips slowly against him, eliciting a moan.

He whispered in her ear, “You’re being a naughty little wolf. Shall I show you what happens to naughty wolves?”

Gripping her hips, he lifted her and entered her in one swift thrust, growling with pleasure. “You feel so good. I can never get enough. You drive me crazy—your scent alone sends Apollo wild. You’re perfect in every way.”

Words gave way to movement, slow at first, then faster. He spread her wider, hands on her soapy breasts, as water sloshed around them. They reached their peak together, crying out each other’s names. After a moment, Duncan laughed.

“What?” Adira asked.

“I was just thinking,” he said, “now I have to wash you all over again.”

“At least we’re in a locked room this time,” she teased, “so the whole castle and half the kingdom won’t hear us.”

“I don’t know, little wolf,” Duncan replied. “I kind of like everyone knowing you’re mine.” With that, he entered her again, and they lost themselves in each other once more. Sleep was scarce that night.

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Meanwhile, the King awoke in a sweat, haunted by the same recurring nightmare: his son, in executioner’s garb, holding his own severed head and crying, “Why, father?” The King could neither speak nor move, forced to stare at his son’s headless body. After the first nightmare, he had ordered forget-me-not seeds to plant over his son’s grave in spring. Why had his son turned so evil? Was it his fault? The questions tormented him.

Sitting up, he saw Alfred in the chair, ever the loyal butler who had served his father before him. “Alfred?” the King called.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Alfred replied.

“You can go rest now. I won’t sleep anymore tonight. I’ll read or review invitations for the Christmas ball.”

“As you wish, my King.” Alfred bowed and left.

The King tried to focus on papers and invitations but couldn’t concentrate. Sighing, he sat by the fire, flipping through a photo album of his mate and son. Tears streamed down his face as his wolf, Arthur, enveloped him in silent comfort.

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Outside, Jack stood on the wall with other guards under a bright moon, its silver light almost blinding. Snow fell lightly, with a blizzard predicted soon—a dangerous time for an attack, offering cover but hindering escape. Jack was tired of waiting for whatever was coming. Something felt off, lingering in the shadows.

One of his warriors reported movement and went to investigate. Soon, he mind- linked Jack: “I’ve got an early Christmas present for you.”

Jack met him in the back gardens along the wall. The warrior stood waiting, a captured rogue at his side.