Malicious Prince: A Reverse Harem Romance (Territorial Mates Book 3) Page 2

  “I’m sorry,” I plead. “I shouldn’t have let Des do tha. The blood’s clotting okay, but it was all wrong. I’m sorry!”

  Lily still doesn’t speak; she merely lifts her hand to touch my cheek, looking into my eyes with the briefest brush of clarity breaking through her haze. I want her to speak to me, even if it’s to cuss me out. But she’s not ready, so she gives me tha small touch before she slips back into her oblivion.

  I bury my sins and my nose in her cheek, promising I’ll give her a better life than this. I rock us both, forward and back. I’m buried in untold amounts of pain because of those two small pinpricks on her neck.

  Damn ye, Alex. Ye did this to her.

  2

  My Mate’s Blood

  Salem

  The enclosed carriage I rented the second we crossed over onto shifter soil is the best use of thirty coins I can think of. I let the fae horse go in Faveda, and bound the drooling General atop the cart, high enough for shifters not to take bites out of him. Lily still hasn’t spoken, but now tha her da’s out of her sight, she closes her eyes. I tuck a gray wool blanket around her tha I bought for another five coins. I don’t like her pallor, even less when she shivers. I know fae aren’t built for the harsher shifter winters, but it’s barely autumn, so I’m hoping she doesn’t fall ill before we reach the safety of the mansion.

  She relaxes against Des, who wears a second blanket over his head to cover himself in case the doors are flung open for any reason. He’s stronger, far more himself, now tha he’s got her blood in him. But his right arm is still dead from where General Klein stabbed him with the silver blade. I don’t know what to do about it, other than get him to a healer as soon as we get home. The sun is starting to rise, so I take care to make sure the curtains are drawn and nothing can harm my best friend.

  “Don’t bite her,” I warn for the sixth time in the past two hours. “I’ll be driving, so I can’t keep an eye on things.”

  Des is a good enough lad not to be insulted. He lifts the edge of the blanket to peek out at me. “Of course. I won’t feed on her unless you’re there. It matters to me that she’s alright, too, Salem.”

  “I know. I just…” I can’t explain it, and luckily, Des doesn’t make me. He grants me half a smile as he coils his good arm around Lily, holding her tight to his side when it seems she’s determined to drift off into her depression. Then he covers both their heads with the blanket. Though she doesn’t need to be shaded from the sunlight, I know Des wants her as close as possible. Being near her is an addiction we’ve both accepted is impossible to kick.

  I shut the door, wishing it could be me holding her, and take my spot as the coachman. I know Alex and Des would’ve hired a person to drive them, but tha’s just not me. If something needs doing tha I can take care of, I do it myself. I’m not big into trust, and it takes too much of the stuff for me to hand over the reins to anyone. Especially now tha my mate’s in the carriage. If she needs to be driven somewhere, I’ll be holding the reins. I’ll lock the door for her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too cold.

  I’m the worst, but Lily doesn’t show her impatience with me when I have to stop the carriage every hour all day long. I make sure we’re covered in shade, of course, and I check to make sure no one’s around so they aren’t tipped off to the precious cargo I’m driving around, but I know she’s probably annoyed tha I keep checking on her.

  “We’re really okay, Salem,” Des assures me with a wry smile, his arm still affixed around her shoulders while she stares vacantly out the shaded window. “You know I’ll call up to you if we need something.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The truth is it’s me who’s not okay. It’s too long since I’ve held her. Too many days since she’s smiled at me. No one smiles at me except the lads. But she does. She makes me want to be the kind of person who cracks jokes and says clever things, like Alex and Des do. Though I know she won’t answer, I speak to her all the same. “Lily, I’m going in to get some lunch for us. Anything ye want?”

  She shrugs, which is almost like talking but not quite.

  “Prince Salem? It’s Prince Salem!” someone shouts from behind me. I shut the door quickly, on edge until I hear Des click the lock from the inside.

  I nod to the lad announcing my presence. I don’t recognize him, but tha’s not all too uncommon. He’s younger than military age, so he’s of little use to me yet.

  “Prince Salem, we’ve been waiting for your return! Are ye going to have the troops fix the fallen section of the border?”

  I quirk my eyebrow, which is the most I’ll converse about the subject I know nothing of.

  The teenager with freckles and ruddy cheeks points westward. “Parts of it were knocked over, and no one’s fixed it yet. There’s some worry tha the fae will try to sneak across into our land and steal our plumapples.”

  Of all the things to worry about. I want to tell him to let the fae take what healing apples they need, but tha’s a thing I should probably tell my soldiers first. “Aye,” I tell the lad, whose chest puffs tha he delivered important news. He’ll make a grand soldier someday—eager to please and loyal to the throne. “I don’t suppose I could give you some coin to go in and buy us some food.”

  His rust-colored eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as his pitch climbs. “Of course! My da owns the store. Whatever ye fancy, I’ll fetch it for ye. No charge for the throne.”

  I give him a nod, but shove a handful of coins into his fist. I’m not in the business of taking things from my people. They pay taxes already; they’ve no need to pay more. “Some fruit and nuts.” I’m dying for a tall stein of ale, but I can’t let my guard down until Lily’s safe in my home. In my bed. I need to change those sheets. “Another blanket. A tin of fish and some bread.” Lily might be pale; it’s hard to tell when she’s tucked in the shade of the carriage. “Iron pills, if your da has them.”

  “Aye, your majesty. Right away!” His eyes glance up at the tarp I’ve used to cover General Klein’s body. “Fresh kill?”

  “Prisoner,” I correct him, giving him the subtle hint to hurry.

  It does the trick, because he scampers away toward the general store.

  “The lad’s either too young or too stupid to catch tha your prisoner’s fae,” says a voice from the other side of the carriage.

  Grand.

  I loathe the members of the cabinet who think they know how the territory should be run, and whine when they don’t get their way. Sir Muttrend points a gnarled finger to the General’s hand sticking out the side of the tarp, revealing pale skin and a pure white sleeve.

  “Go on, Mutt,” I tell him, tucking the General’s hand back under the covering. “It’s no business of yours.”

  “Sir Muttrend,” he corrects me, though I don’t know why he bothers. I’m never going to use his full name when “Mutt” is such a grand nickname for a man who is constantly pushing for purebred pairings and frowning on those shifters with differing animals who intermarry. As if we have the means, time or desire to enforce something like tha.

  His chubby fingers pass over the tarp and land on the dark wood of the carriage. Though I’m taller than him, he somehow manages to look down his long, hooked nose at me. “When I heard Prince Salem procured a carriage at the border, I had to see for myself what ye were hauling. It’s not every day the prince comes to us by way of Faveda, of all places. Ye usually come back from your travels via Neutral Territory.”

  “How grand tha ye have so much free time tha ye check up on me. I’ll have to tell Justice to give ye and the rest of the cabinet more to do.”

  He tsks me, as if he’s the one in charge. Like the fact tha he’s old means he can scold me. “Now, now. No need to get foul. I’m just sad no one’s helped ye with your cargo.” He bares his canines, his snarl affixed on the General.

  “Are the jail cells full?” I ask, tightening the ropes tha hold the tarp in place.

  He scratches his portly belly. “Of course not. Your brother is too
lenient. There are many who deserved to be locked up tha walk free. We can start with the judges who perform the marriages of mixed-breed couplings.”

  I’m so tired of his needling. I almost want to let it drop tha I’ve not only mated outside my breed, but outside my race as well. But this hardly seems the time. Should probably tell my brother first. “A wolf shifter has every right to breed with a bear shifter, a dog, a cat or whomever. Concern yourself with the drought, not what merriment people do to forget their woes.”

  “Tha wasn’t your da’s rule.”

  Mutt’s a foul arse. “My da is dead, and so are the old ways. Your proposal to outlaw cross-breed marriages was overruled. Deal with it. Justice will hear of ye speaking out against his laws when I get home.”

  Mutt holds up his hands. “Is free speech suddenly outlawed?”

  I step toward him, and I can see his eyes once again measuring his prowess to my muscle. A man in his sixties has no business taking on a prince in his prime, so Mutt’s constantly using his best weapon—his words. Justice should take him off the cabinet, but out of respect to Da, who appointed the idiot, he doesn’t. “Go about your business, Mutt, and leave me to mine. You’ll do well to never speak poorly of my brother or my da in my presence.”

  I don’t like Mutt sniffing around my carriage.

  “Who’s inside? More fae prisoners? I’m picking up a strong hint of fae, and I can’t imagine it’s all coming from your prisoner up top.”

  I’m sure Des and Lily are completely motionless inside, but it’s easy to catch the aroma of a fae. They give off this floral scent tha’s hard to ignore.

  Mutt’s pudgy fingers on the handle is the last straw.

  I shift before I can talk myself out of it. I know it’s a bad move, but I can’t hold back. It’s a clear act of aggression, which never goes over well.

  Mutt smiles, taking my challenge as permission to be as ruthless as he pleases. He jumps up and transforms into his panther, tearing at the tarp and digging a long scratch down General Klein’s leg. Mutt doesn’t attack me; he knows tha would get him thrown in jail.

  This is lawlessness. This is a man who advises the throne but doesn’t respect it.

  I chase him, running after the flailing tarp and growling to let him know I’m not letting this go. Bristly trees whip by us, the unending greens of Faveda long gone. Every bit of nature is vastly browner the further into Jacoba ye travel.

  The mangey codger darts in between bushes far more gracefully than I ever could with speed tha most envy. But he should know better than to taunt me. I’m hot on his heels, and pounce, sinking my teeth into the scruff of his neck and shaking until the tarp breaks free. I don’t even care about the tarp. It’s being stolen from in any way tha gets under my skin. If the cabinet thinks they can take an inch of anything from me, they’ll walk all over me, like they try to do to Justice.

  I don’t hold back as I tear into Mutt’s flesh, tasting the tang of his blood before I fling him free. He lands on all fours with a mewl, the stupid cat, but he limps away with a threat on his lips.

  Mutt’s got triumph in his eyes, even as he limps away to lick his wounds. I have no idea what he’s got to be smug about until I hear Des cry out through the forest-lined expanse. “Salem, help!”

  Lightning zips through my body, turning me on my heels as I charge toward the carriage. A diversion, I cringe, cursing myself as I run with panic fueling my pace. I’m faster on four legs but I’m bigger on two, so I run my heart out in my wolf form, grateful I didn’t stray too far. I howl, hoping to alert everyone tha I’m on my way. My howl should rally the hearts of my beloveds, and strike terror into the souls of my enemies.

  I’m not the only one who hears Des’ cry for help. I rally when I catch sight of a few wolves in the distance perking up at the sound of my call. They run in the direction of danger, not away from it, howling to let me know I’m not on my own. While I don’t give a rat’s arse if different breeds intermarry, there’s solidarity tha’s found among a shifter’s own kind. The wolves don’t need to know the ins and outs of my plight; they understand one of their own needs them, so they come.

  There will always be those who challenge the throne, and there will always be those who defend it.

  I leap in through the carriage door tha looks splintered open, and sink my canines into the second panther tha’s making a mess of things with a pit bull.

  I can’t deal with the eagle who’s picking at the General yet, because Des is in real danger. I know it wounds him to leave the fighting to Lily while he cowers inside their blankets to keep from the sunlight.

  Lily’s boot kicks at the pit bull’s flat-faced mug, but the thing keeps coming back for her, even after I’m dragging the panther out of the carriage and shaking it until it can’t stand on its own. It’ll heal, though hopefully with more sense in his head next time around. I focus my mind and send a message to the overgrown cat. “A swift beating’s the only thing you’ll earn when ye follow Sir Muttrend rather than the throne. If I see your gob again, I’ll have your tail.”

  The sound of Lily’s pain pierces my ears, my heart and several other things I need to survive. I don’t hesitate when I barrel into the carriage again, still ignoring the eagle who’s going to town on the General. I don’t bother with a growl of warning; the lad saw the carriage was mine before he decided to attack. He’s got his teeth buried in Lily’s calf, and doesn’t let go until I close my jaw around his throat.

  The pit bull releases her with a yowl of pain. I only catch a whiff of her blood before I’ve pummeled him clear out of the carriage.

  Lily closes the door behind me to keep the sun from Des. Tha’s my girl. Always protecting. Always thinking. I lock the image of her fright in my mind as I tear out the throat of the pit bull, knowing I’m going against my own belief I’ve been trying to instill in Lily. This shifter needs to be in prison, not in the ground, but I can’t stop. I’m hungry for his blood now. I can see her crimson on his teeth, and I can’t hold back. He hurt Lily. He made my mate scream. My rage kicks into high gear, and before I know it, the vicious fleabag is motionless under my paws.

  I can’t stop. My body doesn’t know how. I need to know my mate is safe, so I rip the flesh from his bones and fling the strips over my shoulder. My heart is pounding, my breath coming in pants and bursts as I try to talk myself down from my rage.

  The other wolves finally join me, but back up when they see me mid-rage. They send me messages of support and caution, asking me if I’m alright, and how they can help.

  I might be beyond help, so gone am I for Lily.

  “Guard the carriage,” I tell them through our shifter connection. “Sir Muttrend organized this. If he comes sniffing around, he’s not to get near.” They don’t need to be asked twice. They’re not even soldiers, just passersby who don’t value looking the other way when help is needed. Tha’s what I love about my people.

  Most of them.

  The eagle stills above me, and when I finally glance up to growl at the bird, he takes off, abandoning his prey and zipping through the woods.

  I’m on two legs somehow. I can’t even remember shifting back, but I’m grunting through the trauma of nearly losing my mate.

  Lily’s arms are around me. When did she get out of the carriage? She’s kissing my temple and coaxing me down from the adrenaline I haven’t felt this sharply since… since she was in danger the last time. Only this is different, because we’re in shifter territory. Anyone could come for her at any time with fangs sharpened and hungry eyes.

  The wolves back down but don’t leave, so shocked are they at the sight of a fae lass doting on a shifter. Her touch is so gentle tha it reminds me I must be careful if I’m to be near someone this incredible.

  “You’re bleeding,” I croak, unwilling to address the thing I’ve just done. The thing I told her rulers can’t do.

  I’ve murdered one of my own. No trial, just swift vindication.

  “I’m alright,” she promises me
. It’s the first thing she’s said in days, and I don’t believe a word of it. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She kisses my cheek, and I feel my chest expand in a more natural rhythm. My arms band around her, and I want to bury my shame in her hair. I just killed one of my kin. Not just a shifter, but a shifter from the same lineage as me. A fellow canine. I don’t feel as much attachment to the feline family, though I would never kill one of them in my right mind, either.

  I’m not in my right mind.

  “I need to get home. I need to talk to my brother.” Justice will be able to explain things. He’ll know what to do. Maybe there’s some way to calm me down, so I’m not on the edge of murder every time Lily’s in the least bit of danger.

  The lad I sent to fetch me the supplies stands a stone’s throw away with the wolves, his freckles standing more prominently against his gaunt face. I’m not sure if he’s more upset tha my coach was attacked, tha a dead shifter’s innards are spilled on the grass, or tha a fae woman has her arms around my neck.

  Lily helps me up, and I turn her so I can address the wolves. “Thanks for coming to my aid.”

  They bow, but I can hear snippets of their confusion. They certainly didn’t mean to guard a fae from harm, but tha’s what they did simply because I asked. Tha’s loyalty.

  Lily bows her head to them, not because they’ll ever understand or accept her, but because she’s good. Truly good deep down. “Thank you for rescuing Salem. You must be who he’s talking about when he talks about how much he loves his people.”

  Of course she charms them with two sentences. Their mumbles of confusion turn to amusement and a tingle of respect before they meander away, leaving me to my mess.

  Lily meets my eyes with unfathomable sadness and worry. “I don’t know how to tell a good shifter from a bad one.”

  I take her hand and rest it on my heart. “The good ones think about their neighbor. The bad ones think only of themselves. Same as fae.”