Keeping Secret

“Holden, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? How did you get in here?”



“Bathroom window was open.”



Jesus, these wolves certainly trusted the woods around them. Doors and windows left open. I was all for Southern hospitality, but didn’t they know vampires were just lurk—



“Wait a damned second. How did you manage that? Even if it was unlocked, no one invited you in.”



He chuckled. “It’s not anyone’s primary residence. It’s not a home, just a guest suite. The invitation rule only applies to permanent dwellings, not temporary ones. It’s the same reason we can go into hotels. Don’t ask me how the metaphysics works…it just does.”



He clasped his arms around my back and tugged me close. Though he wasn’t hard, I felt the unmistakable pressure of his package through the thin material of my underwear. My brain said, no, no, no, but the hypersensitive parts of me below the waist said, oh, oh, oh.



My vagina was always trying to be my undoing. It only understood pleasure and didn’t tend to care who the penis belonged to.



My brain was a little pickier.



But only a little.



Holden leaned in to steal a kiss. I head-butted him.



“Ow,” he groaned, his hand shooting to his forehead.



“You idiot. Lucas is in the other room, and there is a pack of more than thirty wolves hanging around outside, drunk off their asses. I’m sure they’d love to know a vampire was sneaking into the bed of an unsuspecting princess.”



In spite of the pain I’d inflicted—which probably wasn’t too much considering I hadn’t given it my all and his skull was about as fragile as cast iron—he grinned like an idiot when I used the P word on myself.



“My apologies, your most serene princessyness.”



“Don’t be an ass. You were born in England. You of anyone should know the right terminology.” And just like that he’d made me forget I was angry with him. “Seriously, though, what do you think you’re doing?”



“Sig was pretty specific about me not letting you out of my sight.”



“I don’t think he meant it literally.”



“I don’t think Sig understands the finer points of English colloquialisms enough to mean it anything other than literally. For him ‘don’t let her out of your sight’ can only mean one thing.”



Shit.



“Shit.”



“Look,” he said, loosening his hold on me and propping his head on one hand. God he looked delicious with pillow-mussed hair. Also, where was his shirt? “Eyes up here, Princess.”



“Well, stop it with the dramatic pauses and get to your point. I was falling asleep.”



“Sure you were.”



“Moonlight’s ticking away, Chancery.”



He rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue at me. “I’m not trying to ruin your little summit. There’s a pigeonnier near the main house. The windows have been sealed, and it doesn’t look like it’s being used. I can hide there during the day without being exposed. But at night, I need to know where you are.”



“Can you be subtle about it?”



“I’ve been here all night. Has anyone noticed me yet?”



I raised my fist and tapped the wall behind us. “Knock wood.”



“And did anyone notice me follow you here?”



I dropped my hand. “How did you manage that, exactly?”



“I actually didn’t follow the cars.” He tapped my chest. “Good old sentry-warden connection. I could have followed you across the country if I’d needed to.”



“Well let’s hope we never have to test that theory.” I chuckled, but was distracted by the notion that our connection acted like a homing beacon.



Holden smirked then darted in when my guard was low. The kiss started out the way all stolen kisses do, with a brief press of the lips that acts as a beg for forgiveness and request for permission all at once. I was too startled by how he’d gone in a second time that I didn’t immediately push him off.



When I didn’t respond with violence, his lips firmed and forced my mouth to open, his tongue slipping in and curling along my own like a finger beckoning me to come-hither. Once more I arched against him.



Traitorous vagina.



His fingers dug into my hair, pulling my head close and angling my body towards the front of his. My lips felt almost painfully hot where they met his cool ones. When he pulled back, his fangs were exposed and his eyes had gone inky black.



I let out a shuddering sigh and tongued my own canines. Sharp as the devil’s wit.



“That’s not what I meant when I asked if you could be subtle.”



He pecked me on the cheek. “It’s okay. That wasn’t part of my job. Completely pro bono.”



“Oh, so if it’s free, it can be as in-your-face as you want?”



I knew how poor my word choice was when his lips found mine again. He kissed me until I was breathless and panting all at the same time, and when his fang grazed my lip, I didn’t fight it. He lapped at the thin stream of blood and let out a growl that made my insides twang like a plucked guitar string. If I didn’t wise up, I was going to let this go much, much too far.



It had already gone too far.



“You need to go,” I said.



“I do.”



When I opened my eyes, he was gone, but the taste of him lingered on my lips.



I was in serious trouble.



Chapter Twenty



It took two days before Callum called me in for a private audience.



By that point I’d explored most of the grounds and had run out of busywork to keep Magnolia occupied. She seemed to get worried when I didn’t have a task for her, so I’d started asking for random things to make her feel better. But I could only request so many newspapers or coffee filters before I started to look crazy.



I was starting to feel crazy.



In New York there was no shortage of things to keep me entertained. Even if I wanted a quiet night, I could still go for a jog in the Park or visit Calliope if I had a craving for some otherworldly company.



In Louisiana my options were limited to reading, sitting on the porch swing or wandering. The pack was as cliquey as a prime-time high school, and I felt like an oddity when I spent time with them. Sure, the prodigal niece returns and all that, but they weren’t fooled. I wasn’t their princess in anything more than title because I didn’t own the position. I didn’t feel like a princess, so why should they respect me as one?



When Magnolia came to get me after dinner on our third night, telling me Callum wanted to speak to me, I almost hugged her. It wasn’t that I was dying for alone time with my uncle. Quite the opposite. But I was dying for a break from the nothingness of my night, and she’d brought me a reprieve on a silver platter.



Lucas and I had dined in the main house twice now, often enough I wasn’t knocked on my ass by the grandeur when Magnolia guided me through the main floor and up to Callum’s office. I had been exposed to the things money could buy. My time with Lucas had shown me there was a way to make wealth look impressive without being showy, and Callum did that as well as Lucas did. Must be something in the bloodlines.



The furnishings in the main house were fancy, and I would have felt bad for spilling a drink on the couches, but they weren’t antiques, so I at least wouldn’t be afraid to sit on them. Paintings covered most of the wall space, with a few mirrors to break up the art. It was like being in Hogwarts. The frames were crammed so close together I half-expected the fishermen in one to hop into the fox hunt next to them.



The other glaring absence was photos of Callum’s relatives. Over the fireplace in the dining room was an oil portrait of Elmore, Vivienne, Mercy, Savannah and Callum from a much happier time. Or that was how the artist chose to make them appear. Happy. What a novel concept in a werewolf household.



Magnolia left me outside the office door, and I knocked.



“Enter.”



I stepped inside, and Callum looked up from the sheaf of papers he was reading. He smiled at me like I was someone who mattered to him. The warmth of his expression made me self-conscious and a little…pleased. I didn’t like how he made me feel. He gave me the impression I could belong to a family I’d long since given up hope of being a part of.



I’d always been a McQueen in name alone.



The way Callum was smiling at me made me ache to be accepted by those who gave me my name.



“Mags said you wanted to see me…Your Majesty.”



“Please, Secret. I think we can put formality aside now.” He indicated the chair across from him, and I accepted the seat gratefully.



“Thank God. If I had to say that one more time, I was going to start using a British accent and demanding someone bring me a tiara.”



He smiled but didn’t laugh. Tough crowd.



“Do you know why I’ve asked you here?”



“To welcome me to the flock?”



Silence. Thank you, folks, I’m here all week.



“No. I’d like to talk to you about your notions of marrying Lucas Rain.”



“Notions? You say that like he’s a celebrity and I have his name sketched on my Trapper Keeper in a heart. I am marrying him.” I held up my ring finger. “We came here to respect your wishes, but from what I can tell this is a pretty outdated tradition. What do you have against my marrying Lucas? It doesn’t get much better than a king, so you can’t be rejecting him because of his status.”



“I don’t reject Lucas.”



“So what’s the problem? We’re soul-bonded.”



“Ahh, yes, your soul-bond. Let’s talk about that, shall we?”



If I had hackles, they would have gone up when he said those words. “What’s there to talk about?”



“Where should I start? The fact that you are soul-bonded to a king, but living with his lieutenant.”



“Desmond is the queen’s guard.”



Callum raised a brow. He wasn’t buying it. “Mmhmm. A queen’s guard who shares a bed with his queen? And what of this second soul-bond?”