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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?”
“God, was there like a newsletter?”
“Wolves are a small community, Secret. Gossip travels fast.”
“So it seems.”
“I need to know if you understand the life you’re getting into. Can you believe that?”
