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“I don’t mean that in a bad way. What I said in the club about humans asking questions … I was just thrown off by you and acting like an asshole.” He pauses. “And while I’d love to answer all your questions, I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear some of them yet.”
“Because the answers are bad?”
“No, because they’re intense and a lot to take in, and you just learned that you’re a werewolf and ran off, so I think we should take it easy for now and not pile everything onto you at once.”
I rub my forehead, a headache approaching. “You’re making me nervous, like there’s a lot of bad stuff you’re not telling me.”
“It’s not bad, I promise.” He strokes my jawline with his fingertips.
I swear the damn guy can’t stop touching me. I wonder if that has to do with our little connection.
“There’s just a lot of responsibilities that come with what you are,” he continues, his fingers wandering across my neck, gently massaging. “And I don’t want to dump all of it on you at once.”
“Do these responsibilities have anything to do with me being a princess?” I ask. “I don’t have to run a kingdom, do I?”
It takes him a moment to answer. “That all really depends on how the crowning selection goes.” He thrums the fingers of his free hand against the top of his knee. “Every werewolf pack has at least a dozen princesses and princes for every generation, but only one is chosen for king and one for queen, which is chosen by the crown.”
“You’ve already been chosen for king, right?” I ask, and he nods. “So, then a queen has already been chosen, too, right?”
He shakes his head. “The crown didn’t choose a queen during the last selection, probably because not all the princesses were there. We didn’t know that at the time. We actually thought there was something wrong with the crown. My father even sent out a small team of royal wolves to track down the witch who enchanted the crown to see if she could figure out why it wasn’t working. She said the magic in it is fine, so no one knew what to think. Now it makes sense. It was waiting for you.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s going to choose me, right?” I ask with hope. “That would be disastrous.”
He sketches a delicate path along my star marking. “Why do you say that?”
“Um, because I don’t know anything about the Midnight Realm or wolves or ruling.” My eyelashes uncontrollably flutter as his finger grazes the corner of my eye. “I don’t even have a scent.”
“Yeah, what’s up with her scent?” Philip interrupts. “It’s very faint.”
“I don’t know why it’s so faint.” Jules trails his fingertips down my cheek to my jawline, coming to a rest at my collarbone.
“But in the club, you said you couldn’t smell it at all,” I remind him, unsure whether to move back from his touch or not.I’m so conflicted and confused. “Why is it faint now?”
He splays his fingers along the base of my neck. “When you jumped across the table to run away, a tiny bit of it blew into the air.” He lowers his head and inhales against my neck. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m wondering if your scent and powers have been dormant for over a decade because you’ve been trapped in the Common Realm, away from the powers of the moonlight that current through our realm.” He burrows his face into my neck. “At least, I’m assuming your powers have been dormant since you didn’t know what you are and you looked shocked as hell when you effortlessly jumped over the table.”
“I was shocked … I’ve never been able to move that fast or gracefully. Well, at least for the last decade.” I slant away from him. “Look, I don’t know what it is with everyone smelling me, if it’s like a paranormal’s way of shaking hands, but it’s making me very uncomfortable.”
Jules raises his head, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry I keep doing it, but you smell so fucking good.”
“I’m sure I smell just like the rest of you.” Though Jules’ scent is a tad bit different than other wolves. I’m noticing that now that my werewolf senses are tuning in. Like moonlight mixed with the tiniest dash of violets.
“You smell way lovelier than any other wolf.” He drags his teeth along his lip rings. “Like stars and moon dust and violets. No other wolf smells like violets.”
“You do a little bit. Smell like violets, I mean.”
“I know.”
“Does that have anything to do with that little connection thing you were talking about …? I can’t remember the name of it.”
“The alterum dimidium animae,” he says, and I nod. “Yeah, it does a little bit.”
I eye him over suspiciously. “What exactly is a alterum dimidium animae, anyway?”
“I already explained part of it to you. As for the rest, I don’t think you’re ready to hear that right now.”
I want to say that I am, but he’s probably right. Only hours ago, I freaked out and ran out of the club because he tried to kiss me and told me I was a werewolf.
“We should probably get going,” Jules announces as he stands. “We need to get back home so I can talk to a few wolves, and then see if we can figure out what’s blocking your memories.”
