The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 23: Revelations

OPHELIA'S POV
🌶️🌶️🌶️

Fallon looked right at home in a suit of ceremonial armour. I couldn't help but sneak glances at him as he escorted me through the castle, each step bringing me closer to my doom. A white cape fluttered from his shoulders, billowing with every step. His hair was black as ink, curling at his temples in adorable little licks, and looked curiously soft today; he must have washed it right before we left. I wanted to run my hands through it.

And over the leather pauldron that fitted snugly over one shoulder, emphasising the muscle in his chest. And down the crisp, white linen shirt that he'd left unlaced at the collar, as if he scorned the nobility's propriety. And the snug leather trousers that showed off every inch of those gorgeously sculpted legs.

He caught me staring, and I looked away quickly, feeling the warmth in my face as it struggled to match the colour in my dress. When I glanced back at him again, to see if he was still looking, he was, a smug little smile toying at the corner of his mouth. Prick.

The Dornoch castle smelled just the way I remembered: a curious blend of ocean breeze, roses and musty old tapestries. It was hard to think I'd come here with my family as a child, when father would have business with the Dornoch Pack. A memory resurfaced that I hadn't thought of in years: playing hide and seek with the Lathurna prince and princesses while my parents talked over cheese and wine. I distinctly recalled turning all of the boy's sisters against him, and wondered what had become of them all. If any had survived.

The evidence of the Crown's invasion was everywhere. They'd stamped the British colours on every conceivable surface, including the footmen and servants, whose livery would have been able to signal a crashing plane. I could feel every last one of their stares as Fallon and I strode through the maze of halls, preparing to make our dramatic entry to court.

When we made a turn and found no one in sight, Fallon surprised me by pulling us into an alcove, ducking into the gap dedicated to a rather staid oil painting of a farm on rolling green hills, dotted with little white sheep.

I sucked in a sharp breath as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered there, cupping my cheek, and I leaned into the touch without thinking. He was strong. Solid. Warm.

Home, whispered a traitorous little voice in the back of my head. Apparently I had three of them now. Aurora, Nate, and Fallon, all pulling me in different directions.

"Would that I had brought you home under different circumstances," he said softly, his thumb tracing fire over my skin. The longing in his voice took me by surprise. "I would have liked for you to meet my family."

It was foolish, but I pressed a kiss to his calloused palm. "Me too."

I imagined his family as large and happy, full of teasing and laughter. I imagined Fallon as the too-serious older brother and felt a stab of envy for a divergent future, in which some version of myself got the opportunity to crack his stony mask. To make terrible jokes and earn smile after smile from the intimidating giant. I would covet the warm, compassionate part of him that he only reserved for those he loved most in the world. Give him a place where he could be vulnerable and open without fear.

"Look, I..." he swallowed his words, growing visibly frustrated. "I know I've been stand-offish. I knew from the start that I could never have you, and I thought that if I distanced myself, it would make things easier. For both of us."