“Doubtful,” he said dismissively.
“How’s your search going in the mountains?” A smirk curved on my lips. “Have you gotten any closer to finding whatever it is you’ve been looking for?”
Bas snorted. “Doubtful.” Echoing Warrick’s words.
Annoyance flashed across Warrick’s face, but when he noticed me staring, his expression went carefully blank. I rolled my eyes and looked away. While it’d mostly been Warrick and me verbally sparring, he and Bas had their own little tiff going. I was now absolutely certain they were an item. Or had been an item. Honestly, it was hard to tell.
I was mostly impressed they’d managed to hide it from me when I’d first arrived at the Alpha stronghold, because clearly there was a lot of history there.
But not my hive, not my bees as Samara’s gardener friend used to say when gleefully regaling us with all the drama she’d recently overheard.
Although it was oddly comforting to know I wasn’t the only one with confusing and dysfunctional relationships amongst the Alphas.
The sun sank a little lower in the horizon, turning the sky a vivid dark orange. We needed to get moving. I had no interest in being out again at night.
“I’ll behave,” I told Bastian before sliding a glance to Warrick. “We’ll behave. Because we all have our parts to play, right?”
And as far as the rest of the Velesian realm was concerned, the Alpha pack was unbreakable.
Warrick’s golden-brown eyes stayed fixed on me. “We do.”
“Well, then.” I forced myself not to dwell on the many ways this could go wrong and stepped towards him, my hand extended. “Let the games begin.”
A second ticked by, and I thought maybe Warrick wouldn’t take my hand—or he’d cut it off before touching me. But then he smiled, and his expression just . . . changed. My heart skipped a beat as I realized Warrick was hot. Like insanely hot.
Some part of me had always known that, but it was overshadowed by the side of me screaming, Oh my gods, he’s going to murder us! Run!
Warrick’s warm hand slid into mine, our fingers intertwining. My breath caught as my mind struggled to process what was happening. He was voluntarily touching me.
This had to be a trap. Was I about to die?
“Breathe, Princess.” Another hand grasped the one Warrick wasn’t holding. Bastian chuckled in my ear. “It’s almost like you’ve never been between two gorgeous men before.”
A sharp laugh exhaled from my lips. “There’s something so wrong with you, Bas,” I choked out, even as I felt myself blush like crazy.
“There she is.” Bastian chuckled.
For a moment, all the complex emotions between us vanished, and I was just amused at his antics. I realized I’d missed that. His ability to say something so ridiculously crass yet funny at just the right moment.
“Why is she turning red?” Warrick asked in a confused tone. “I didn’t stab her this time, I swear.”
Bastian started down the path to the Dragomir stronghold and pulled me with him. My fingers automatically tightened around Warrick’s hand, tugging him along for the ride.
“You probably haven’t noticed this about our dear Rynn, since you’re normally debating the best way to cut her into tiny pieces when you’re in her company, but our Princess is quite the blusher,” Bastian explained cheerfully. “Let me tell you about the time I made her almost pass out over dinner at a tavern by recounting a story . . .”
Ten minutes later, we were at the main gates of the Dragomir stronghold, and I had reached an entirely new shade of red. Something about Bas reciting all these crude tales in front of Warrick made it even worse, especially since neither of them had let go of my hands.
The warmth of their skin against mine while the cool spring air brushed my burning cheeks was too much. I was in sensory overload, and I very much wanted to retreat to my quiet library at home.
Not home for much longer. The thought helped ground me and remind me of my mission here. We were all just pretending. Warrick would’ve never voluntarily held my hand like this, and Bastian . . . I needed to stop trying to understand his motives.
I plastered a shy smile on my face to go with my blushed cheeks. The guards stared at us wide-eyed from the other side of the gate.
“A-alphas,” one of them stammered. “Are you here for the celebration?”
“No, we’re here to examine the construction of the new scout barracks,” Warrick answered.
The two guards glanced at each other, panic clearly written on their faces.
