Page 38 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

“Relax,” he says casually. “She’s not going to shatter because someone plays a fiddle near her, Chris.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.” He shrugs, infuriatingly unbothered. “The healer didn’t say no parties. He said rest and care. This is rest. This is care. You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

“Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a child,” I say, face twisted into a frown.

“Hey, one year older than you,” he says, a mock grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t forget that.”

I lean in, mirroring his face. “Then act like it.”

I walk away from him and plan to leave the party entirely. Sinth and Charlize have already mingled with the others on the dance floor. He has one hand on her hips, guiding the movement of her waist as they dance together.

It’s not a slow dance, but it’s not fast enough for me to worry she’s exerting herself.

She looks happy. And doesn’t take her eyes off him.

The accordion, the harps, and the sound of other string instruments blend together with the musician’s voice in a harmonious melody. One I almost let myself enjoy. Almost.

But there’s nothing for me here. Sinth and Charlize are busy on the dance floor. Wayne is having a good time with his folks from the Trident Pack.

I should leave. But I find myself looking in her direction again.

She looks well tonight. Better than well, really—whatever gown the servants dressed her in catches the firelight every time she moves, and I find myself tracking that movement with an attention I resent giving.

After deciding to stay a little longer just to keep an eye on how things are going, I stand at a distance, observing.

I watch her closely and silently, cataloging details with no practical use to me. The way she tucks a loose curl behind her ear when she’s thinking. The way her laugh comes easier the longer Sinth stays beside her, patient and steady, the exact kind of company that puts people at ease.

Wayne finds his way over to her twice, and both times something in me sharpens without my permission. I find myself tracking the space between them, displeased by how she leans toward him instead of away.

Vigilance, I tell myself, though it doesn’t much feel like vigilance. It feels closer to a wound reopening every time either of them makes her smile when all I’ve ever managed is to make her flinch.

A steward asks if I require anything at one point, and I dismiss him without looking away from her long enough to give a proper answer. I notice myself doing it and don’t bother correcting it.

Sinth leaves her side to fetch water, and inside that single absence, a man approaches her.

I don’t recognize him—one of the noble sons Wayne invited without thinking. He leans in too close, his hand daring to find her arm like he has any right to touch her at all.

I’m already moving before I decide to.

Wayne gets there first, crossing the distance faster than I’ve ever seen him cross anything. By the time I’m close enough to hear, his voice has dropped into something low and lethal, nothing like the careless tone he wears for the rest of the world.

“Take your hand off her.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but his tone is dripping with venom and his pheromones flare. “Now. Before I decide you don’t need it anymore.”

The music stops, and all eyes are on them.

The man pales, stammers something that might be an apology, and vanishes into the crowd fast enough that I don’t bother tracking where he goes.

“There’s nothing to see here, people!” he says loudly, scanning the crowd. He faces the direction of the musicians and snaps his fingers. “Music!”

They pick up from where they stopped.

Charlize stands there afterward, arms wrapped around herself, embarrassment and anger flickering across her face in turns.

I don’t think it through. I close the distance and take her by the arm.

“What’re you doing?” she protests.