Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 23

Aubrey

The clock above the cafe door ticks away, a relentless reminder of the time slipping through my fingers. Each passing minute ratchets up the tension coiling in my stomach, an uneasy dance between nervousness and anticipation. I can’t help but steal glances at King Soren and his son, Max, as I deliver steaming cups of coffee to other patrons.

“Everything alright, Brielle?” Marianne asks, her brow furrowed with concern. I force a smile, my hand trembling ever so slightly as I set down a plate.

“Yeah, just… ready for the day to be over,” I admit, my gaze flickering back to the regal figures occupying a corner booth. The sight of King Soren, so powerful yet tender with his child, sends a shiver down my spine—an intoxicating blend of fear and attraction that I’m not sure what to do with.

The café’s usual hum of chatter fades to a dull roar as my pulse quickens. I can sense King Soren’s eyes on me, heavy with an intensity that belies the casual setting. With every passing second, my skin prickles with awareness, and I find myself fumbling slightly with the coffee cups, my nervousness mirrored in the clatter of porcelain.

When my shift is a few minutes from over, my fingers fumble slightly as I untie the apron, the fabric suddenly feeling like chains that bind me to this place. Hanging it up with a practiced swing, I turn to Marianne, who’s busy tallying the day’s receipts. “Hey, I’m on for the morning shift tomorrow,

0.00%

Chapter 23

288 ¡Vouchers

I’m a storm

early,” Marianne replies without looking up, her

my gaze involuntarily drifts across the cafe. It lingers on King Soren–his regal posture, the way his hand gently steadies Max at his side. The sight sends an unfamiliar flutter through my chest, an attraction mingled with apprehension. With each tick of the

against my leg halts me mid–stride. Looking down, my heart squeezes at the

innocence seems untouched by the harshness of pack politics. Despite my own turmoil, I can’t help

expanse of air shrink between us. His height casts a shadow that feels like an eclipse over my own petite form. He looms

me; it’s the way my heart stutters at the sight of him. The sunlight catches

Chapter 23

11 288 Moders

threads in his beard, and for a moment, I am entranced by the contrast the hard lines of a

gaze shifts to Max and something inside me twists. There, in the depths of his stormy eyes, I glimpse a father’s love so fierce it could move mountains or tear down walls. It’s

mix of embarrassment and something else—an inexplicable pull towards

my nervousness–a need to flee back to the safety of my grandmother’s house, yet also a longing

like the last autumn leaf clinging to a branch. I need to go home, to ensure she’s alright, yet here I stand, captivated

softer this time,

chest for the little prince. He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes, so full of hope and longing. And there it is again, that pull toward the king, a