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Her heart beat loudlyin her ears, and though something in the back of her mind demanded she shy away from Draven’s stare, another part of her wanted to relish in it.
Flora floundered somewhere in the middle while trying to ignore the throbbing of her shoulder.
He wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Where vampires were more lean, Draven was anything but. He was tall, with broad shoulders and impressive muscles that were only enhanced by the too-tight flannel he wore. There was an unspoken grace about him, but it didn’t overpower the part of him that screamed he was an apex predator. Tattoos spilled down his forearms from under his cuffed shirt, and Flora found herself wondering just how far up the ink traveled. Her eyes traced where she imagined they continued until they met the fiery stare beneath his tousled brown hair. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure if he was going to devour her or murder her on the spot. Either would be fine. Anything if he’d touch her.
What the hell?
She paused, the wayward thought catching her off guard. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. There was no reason for her to feel as though there was a string tethered to her soul pulling her toward him. She’d only just met him, and he was the one thing standing in the way of her gaining protection for Emery. It couldn’t matter that he had tattoos and eyes that pierced her soul.
The deep growls of the wolves surrounding her broke her thoughts, and her gaze darted around the room. She had assumed she had no reason to fear the wolves, but the desperation in their stares as they narrowed on the stone around her neck and the fact their enforcers had shot first and asked questions later had her reassessing that assumption. They were supernatural enforcers for a reason. They were stronger and faster than the average human, with senses far superior to her own, and right then they looked as though they would have no issues using those supernatural abilities to rip her apart.
Flora tensed and edged sideways, closer to Mateo. She glanced up to see if he’d extend the slightest bit of protection he’d already shown. Unfortunately for her, indecision marred his features. He wouldn’t go against his pack. And why should he? He’d told her not to mention Draven’s heritage. Mateo had warned her that his leader would show no mercy. Callum really shouldn’t have sent her on this mission. She may have been trained in diplomacy, but it extended as far as introductions and etiquette. She’d already proven she was in way over her head.
“No one moves,” Draven growled, his eyes never leaving hers as he jumped down from the stage and stalked toward her. With each step, her nerves coiled tighter until he stopped inches from her, his breath teasing the tip of her nose. “How did you get that?”
Flora sucked in a sharp breath and instantly regretted it. If she thought his looks were delicious, they were nothing compared to the way the smell of the forest lingered on his skin. It reminded her of rides with her old horse, Shadowfell, in the woods behind the castle. It was a comfort he had no business making her feel.
She tipped her head up, taking in his deadly green gaze as she spoke. “Callum gave it to me. Which you’d know if you’d given me a chance to explain myself instead of having your men shoot at me and then getting all growly.”
“Oh, you’ll have plenty of chances to explain yourself,” he crooned, his lips twisted into a wicked smile, and while the sight of it scared her, it somehow only made him that much more enticing. “Now, give me the stone.”
“Why? So you can send me on my way without so much as listening to my request? I think not.”
She resisted the urge to step away and show him any sort of weakness. That was exactly what he wanted, and Flora refused to be intimidated. Not when so much was on the line for Emery and her unborn child. As well as for herself. She had no doubt Callum would still turn her when she returned, but she had to survive in order to get there.
The room was silent, the pack hanging on their every word.
Until they weren’t.
It started with a few whispers, of which Flora only caught a few words. Vampire. Trust. War. But then it grew to a dull roar. Shouts demanding he take the moonstone from her and send her back to the vampires in pieces.
The pack began to shift, and growing antsy in their need for action, they started to jossle toward where Flora stood with Draven and Mateo. Their cries for an explination grew louder, but with intensity came a shift in focus and soon their anger spread to include Draven.
“He isn’t one of us, he can’t be trusted either!”
“He isn’t a legitimate heir!”
Flora’s chest constricted with each tick of Draven’s jaw. She may have been frustrated with Draven’s tactics, but she hadn’t meant to turn his pack against him. “I assumed they’d know.” She whispered, soft enough she’d known he’d hear her but not so loud the pack would.
“You know what happens when you assume.”
She did. This was her fault. In her moment to shine as a diplomat, she’d failed epically and unintentionally started a coup, questioning Draven’s legitimacy.
Her eyes darted to the growing discord around her, and she tried to make sense of their words. The wolves of the Americas were supposed to accept hybrids. They were supposed to accept everyone. If this was how they felt about the heir to their pack, surely they weren’t going to help her protect Emery.
“Silence!” Draven’s father bellowed from the stage, and every wolf in the room winced. His words carried the weight of an Alpha, a testament to his leadership and the trust his pack placed in him. Samson dropped down from the stage to stand behind his son, placing a hand on Draven’s shoulder. “Draven is my son. My heir. He holds the wolf of Dempsy in his blood. He’s run with this pack from the moment of his birth and will be treated with the respect he deserves as my heir.” He directed his words to Draven, still thick with dominance. “This is not a conversation to be had here, Draven. Take her to the basement and question her there.”
Draven winced as he protested. “Father—”
“I said go,” the Alpha snarled.
For a split second, Flora could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness in Draven’s father’s expression, but it was instantly replaced by a stern scowl. It had been there, though. The love of a father for his son. A son who wasn’t his by blood, no matter what the Alpha had just said. She had read the truth in that letter. Flora’s heart softened for the older wolf, and she wondered if Draven knew just how lucky he was to have what he did.
Draven didn’t hesitate. He straightened his spine and gave a respectful nod. “Yes, Alpha.” He turned back to Flora and leaned in, the roughness of his five o'clock shadow scraping her jaw. “You’ve already fucked things up enough. I suggest you keep that mouth of yours shut until we’re alone.”
“And if I don’t? ” she bit back softly, knowing damn well she wasn’t going to let him take her easily. Basements were where secrets were kept, and she’d listened to far too many crime documentaries with Emery to know that once you were down there, there was generally no way out.
“You’re on pack lands now, princess.” His subtle drawl broke through as he whispered, and if she were in any other situation she might find it sexy in comparison to the proper vampires she’d grown up with. “We don’t do diplomacy here.”
