Jealousy and Secrets

I dragged my heavy eyelids open, blinking against the harsh morning sunlight spilling across the polished oak floor of my bedroom. A strange, foreign lightness settled deep in the center of my chest. For the first time in over a year, I hadn't woken up gasping for air, drowning in cold sweat. No phantom hands grabbing at my throat. No blood-soaked nightmares replaying behind my closed eyes. Just deep, blissful, uninterrupted rest. I stretched my arms high over my head, letting out a soft sigh, and pushed the thick down comforter off my bare legs to face the day.

Then my breath caught in my throat.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a caged animal. Magnus sat on the tufted velvet couch across the room. He was a terrifying, unmoving statue wrapped in formal black slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. His leather-clad hands rested flat on his thighs, exuding a quiet, lethal danger. Above the dark mask covering the lower half of his face, his intense obsidian eyes were locked dead onto my resting form. He hadn't made a single sound. I had no idea how long he had been sitting there in the shadows, just watching my chest rise and fall as I slept.

A sudden rush of heat flooded my face. I glanced down. I wore nothing but an incredibly thin, white cotton tank top and a pair of sheer black lace panties from the night before. The fabric of the panties left zero to the imagination, hugging my hips and putting the full curve of my cheeks on display. Most women would have scrambled for a blanket, flushing with shame under the weight of such an invasive stare. But as his dark gaze burned a scorching path up my bare legs, a massive surge of reckless confidence possessed my senses. Zoya, my inner wolf, paced in the back of my mind, practically humming with wicked delight at the power we held in this room.

I sat up slowly, making a deliberate show of rolling my shoulders back. I crossed my bare arms under my chest, pushing up my cleavage so the swell of my breasts spilled over the low neckline of the thin tank top.

"That eager to take another look?" I smirked, letting my voice drop into a raspy, teasing purr.

Magnus let out a sharp, audible exhale through his nose. He rolled his dark eyes in a blatant show of irritation at my taunting, but the rigid tension snapping across his broad shoulders betrayed him.

I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up. The cool morning air brushed against my bare thighs. Instead of grabbing the silk robe draped over the foot of my bed, I turned my bare back to him. I reached down, grabbed the hem of my thin tank top, and dragged it slowly over my head.

The air in the bedroom instantly thickened, growing heavy and hard to breathe. A blistering heat prickled across the sensitive skin of my exposed spine. His gaze felt like a physical caress, tracing the dip of my lower back and tracking the curve of my waist. My skin erupted in a fresh wave of tight goosebumps under his silent scrutiny. I tossed the crumpled shirt onto the mattress and pulled a fresh black lace bra from my wooden dresser, hooking it closed before slipping into a loose blouse and denim shorts.

But I wasn't done playing with him. Before buttoning the blouse, I turned around. I walked toward him, letting my hips sway with slow, deliberate steps. I stopped just a few feet from where he sat, well within his striking distance. I let my eyes roam aggressively over his massive, heavily muscled frame. The dark fabric of his shirt strained over his thick chest with every shallow breath he took. The dark ink of his tattoos peeked out from his collar, begging to be traced. I let my gaze linger on the black mask hiding his lips, wondering what kind of scowl he wore beneath it.

"You must take your job very seriously," I murmured, pouting my lower lip in a mock display of sympathy. "That doesn't sound like much fun, Magnus."

A hard muscle ticked in his jaw. I watched the strained, forceful flex of his neck as he physically ripped his gaze away from the sliver of exposed skin at my waist and the bare expanse of my thighs. The sheer effort it took him to look at the blank wall instead of my body sent a rush of pure adrenaline straight to my core. I was becoming addicted to pushing his boundaries, reveling in the fact that this lethal killer struggled to look away from me.

A sharp, rapid knock on the bedroom door shattered the heavy tension crackling between us.

"Come in," I called out, quickly doing up the buttons on my blouse.

Tessa pushed the door open, her eyes darting from Magnus's rigid form to my flushed face. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot against the carpet. "Girl, I have been waiting forever. Get moving. Gemma is going to have a full-blown meltdown. She's out at the garden gazebo waiting for you."

Guilt pricked my chest. Gemma had finally returned from her long vacation today, and I had slept right through the morning.

"Crap, let's go," I muttered, grabbing my sandals. I didn't even look back to check if Magnus was following. I didn't need to. The heavy, rhythmic thud of his boots against the hardwood floor shadowed my every step. He was a deeply magnetic, inescapable force, tethered to my side.

The bright morning sun blinded me as we stepped out onto the back patio and headed toward the white wooden gazebo sitting in the center of the manicured gardens. Gemma was already holding court at the iron table, waving her hands dramatically as she recounted her trip. She flicked her sandy blonde hair over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide as she launched into the details of her resort stay.

"And then the bartender offered me a free—" Gemma's voice abruptly died in her throat.

Her mouth parted. Her blue eyes widened, dropping from my face to the towering, imposing wall of muscle standing right behind my shoulder. Magnus crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter of the garden, ignoring her existence.

Gemma leaned across the table, a sly, predatory smirk pulling at her pink lips. "You went and got yourself a boyfriend while I was gone?" she whispered loudly. Her gaze practically drooled over his broad chest and thick biceps. "Jeez, Cordelia. He's massive."

My jaw tightened. An entirely unfamiliar, sharp wave of pure possessiveness clawed at my chest. Zoya let out a low, territorial growl in the back of my mind.

"He's not my boyfriend," I snapped, my tone coming out far sharper than I intended. I pulled out an iron chair and sat down, grabbing a strawberry from the breakfast platter. "He's my bodyguard. His name is Magnus."

Gemma didn't miss a beat. She shifted her predatory sights directly onto him. She rested her chin on her hands, fluttering her eyelashes. "So, is he single?" she mused aloud.

My grip on the strawberry tightened until the red juice stained my fingertips. The possessive jealousy burning in my chest was irrational and fierce. He was my assigned guard, a man paid to keep me breathing, but the thought of Gemma's hands anywhere near him made my blood boil. I glared fiercely down at my breakfast plate, refusing to look at either of them.

Gemma leaned forward, making sure the low cut of her sundress dipped to show off her cleavage. She giggled, a high-pitched, grating sound that made my ears ring. "Do you have a girlfriend, Magnus?"

I held my breath. I couldn't stop myself from peeking up through my lashes, bracing for his response.

Magnus didn't even spare a fraction of a second to glance at Gemma's exposed chest. His cold, obsidian eyes flicked away from the garden perimeter and locked directly onto mine. The raw intensity in his stare pinned me to my chair, making my pulse race.

"No," he rasps heavily.

His rough, guttural voice scraped against my ears, sending a delicious, electric shiver plunging straight down my spine. The single word hung in the air, heavy and thick with an unspoken promise that seemed meant only for me. He was openly demonstrating his complete loyalty, keeping his intense focus tied exclusively to me. I had to physically bite the inside of my cheek to keep a massive, smug grin from taking over my face.

Gemma pouted, undeterred by his cold demeanor. "Aw, that's a shame. What did you do before this?" She purred his name, leaning closer to him. "You know, if you ever need a tour of the territory, I know all the best spots."

Magnus didn't blink. He stood like a stone sentinel, his steadfast focus remaining solely on me. He ignored her invasive attempts to pry into his past with such casual indifference that Gemma eventually let out a huff of frustration and sank back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tessa checked the silver watch on her wrist and groaned, pushing her chair back from the table. "I have to get going. I have a long double shift today."

We hugged her goodbye, and the exact second she disappeared down the garden path, Gemma practically bounced in her iron chair. She leaned across the table again, her blue eyes shining with desperate excitement.

"Okay, so there is this massive, wild party tomorrow night in town," Gemma whispered, glancing around as if my father's elite guards were hiding in the rose bushes. "I need you to come with me. It's going to be insane. Everyone is going to be there."

I frowned, dropping the half-eaten strawberry onto my plate. "Gemma, you know my dad. The Alpha King doesn't exactly love the idea of his daughter sneaking off to some sweaty town party. He will despise the idea. He barely lets me walk the gardens alone."

"Oh, come on!" Gemma insisted, gesturing wildly toward the silent mountain of muscle standing behind me. "Just use him! Tell your dad it's a small gathering and that you're taking your terrifying new bodyguard along as a shield. If Magnus goes with you, your dad will give you guaranteed approval in a heartbeat. The guy looks like he eats rogues for breakfast."

I glanced over my shoulder at Magnus. His expression remained unreadable behind the dark mask, but I could see the slight shift in his wide stance. He was listening to every word.

"I don't know," I hesitated.

"Please, Cordelia!" Gemma begged, clasping her hands together in a pleading motion. "Just ask him. We never get to do anything fun anymore!"

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Fine. I'll ask him later."

Before Gemma could launch into the logistics of our cover story, a sharp, authoritative voice pierced through the forefront of my mind.

*Cordelia, come to my private office immediately.*

I flinched. Uncle Gideon's mind-link didn't leave room for argument or delay. It was a formal, aggressive command that echoed against my skull, vibrating with a tense urgency.

*I'll be there in a minute,* I replied, dropping the mental connection before he could say anything else.

I stood up from the table, brushing off my denim shorts. "I have to go. Uncle Gideon just mind-linked me. He wants to see me in his office."

Gemma groaned, slouching back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But text me the second you ask your dad about the party!"

"I will," I promised, offering her a quick wave.

I turned and headed back toward the massive stone estate. Magnus fell into step right behind me, a silent shadow tracking my movements. As we crossed the threshold back into the cool, air-conditioned halls of the pack house, my internal thoughts darkened significantly.

The playful banter with Gemma and the thrilling, sexual tension with Magnus faded away, replaced by a cold, heavy knot of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. Uncle Gideon's abrupt summons reminded me of the terrifying reality lurking just beyond our pack borders.

My mind drifted back to last night's dinner. The tense, screaming argument between my father and Uncle Gideon had rattled the crystal glasses on the dining table. They thought they had kept their voices low enough behind closed doors, but I possessed Lycan hearing. I caught enough fragments to know the horrifying truth. We were teetering on the bloody brink of an all-out war with a ruthless rival Kingdom. The tension had been brewing for months, a volatile powder keg waiting for a single spark to ignite the entire continent.

My dad, the Alpha King, constantly shielded me from the darkness. He sugarcoated the border casualty reports, dismissed the violent breaches as minor skirmishes, and desperately tried to protect me from the gruesome realities of our world. He wanted me to remain a carefree princess for as long as possible.

But that wasn't how this brutal world worked. If I was truly going to take his place as Queen one day, sitting on the throne and leading our Lycan forces into battle, I couldn't be blind. I needed to know the full, unfiltered extent of the lethal danger my people faced. I needed to understand the enemy breathing down our necks.

Uncle Gideon operated differently. He didn't believe in coddling. He was the pack's primary military strategist, a ruthless pragmatist who always felt I needed to be prepared for the worst possible outcome. He was far more inclined to brutally share the ugly truth, no matter how much it stung.

I navigated the long, maze-like corridors of the west wing, the thick carpets muffling my footsteps. The scent of old parchment and rich mahogany grew stronger the closer we got to the administrative wing. I rolled my shoulders back, taking a deep, steadying breath. I prepared my mind for the upcoming battle of wits. It was finally time to step out of the dark. It was time to see exactly what hidden, kingdom-threatening secrets I could forcefully extract directly from my uncle.