The Knight Prince

Chapter 5

    Gardenias.

    Raindrops.

    Fresh spring raindrops on gardenias, like back in the Lycan realm of Gleann Rìoghachad.

    Yes. That is what he smelled.

    He smelled home.

    But why was it coming from her? This little human shouldn’t smell like this… like the place in the gardens where he would escape to when his mental blocks crumbled and his childhood memories of Hell began scrolling through his brain, stuck on repeat. The images of black skies and plumes of lava. The horrors of the demons in the shadows that wanted nothing more than to rip apart and devour him. The Fallen devil that had skewered his chest with a knife and then left him on an altar to bleed to death.

    These nightmares that bled into every cell of his body that he would never, ever be able to be rid of, so the only thing he could do to chase away those phantoms was find an opiate to numb them away. And that respite only seemed to happen while he was in the gardenia bushes; their soothing scent and pure vibrant white flowers dispelled the chaotic maelstrom that swamped his spirit. And although there were similar flowers here on the Earth realm, they weren’t anything like those back home in Gleann Rìoghachad, in his secret place.

    Home. A place he hadn’t smelled in nearly twelve years. A place he had sought to keep the furthest from his mind while trying to live his own life out here in the human world. A life where his inner darkness felt kindred to the grit, blood, and chaos that besieged a hunter. His darkness did not belong in a place of beauty, life, and light which is everything a Lycan really stood for, that their deity Màthair Gealach precast for her champion beasts. A mantle he could not fully wear.

    And since he was too f****d up to do right by his people, he felt he couldn’t be the king he was born to be, so he swore he would be the best Knight a Lycan prince could be.

    Though, it is why he joined the Knights of Sabaton. Because first and foremost, it was a Lycan’s duty to rid the realms of the Tainted Ones which was the Knights’ sole purpose. And his sole purpose, his guiding force, the reason he started a company that could track, monitor, and spy on anything or anyone, was to find the fucker who nearly killed him when he was five, amidst other things. Yet, despite his wealth and connections, ever since the bastard devil Jonnach fled to the Earth realm, drifting now for nearly twenty-five years, the dickhead had embedded himself so deep within its trenches, it made digging out this festering tick from his hiding place a helluva lot harder.

    Adrian slightly shook his head, trying to clear this obvious confusion, trying to banish this obvious error. How could he smell Gleann Rìoghachad in the middle of New York City, in a coffee shop, of all places? Wasn’t the smell of coffee supposed to clear one’s senses, not confuse it?

    f**k, maybe he was still suffering from lack of sleep? Juggling two demanding jobs wrecks the s**t out of the best of people. Or maybe the smell was coming from Darcy? She, after all, was Lycan. It would make sense.

    Adrian shifted in Darcy's direction, toying with his coffee cup, and trying to act as imperceptibly as possible as he took in another pull through his nose. As he did, his head impulsively drifted to his right, following the delicious scent back to the human barista. f**k, she smelled so good. His beast squirmed under his skin, begging him to lean in for a closer whiff.  But he yanked the leash on that idea because he could also sense a bit of her panic wafting as well.

    In a languid crawl, his attention trailed back to her face, aiming to suss this s**t out by looking at her directly. But his rattled nerves made slow work of meeting her eyes; the skittishness annoying the hell out of him. Since when was he ever a pansy-ass when it came to looking at females?

    Maybe because it wasn’t only that amazing scent that made him flip his s**t. 

    The moment his eyes met hers again, eyes that stormed the brightest ocean blue, reminding him again of the waters of Gleann Rìoghachad, his gut clenched. The hanging pendant blurring a buttery light situated directly behind her head created a perfect halo of gold hair framing her face. Holy s**t, he swallowed. Everything about her hit him hard, and all he could do was stare as his pounding heart ricocheted off his ribcage.

    What the f**k is this?! She’s a human! And barely an adult. He was f*****g thirty years old, salivating over someone who probably just walked out of high school! Even as his beast fed into his lust, flashing mental pictures of exactly what he wanted to do with this… kid… Adrian simmered inside a growl. There was no f*****g way he would touch that, on so many levels!

    Brows furrowing, Adrian tore his eyes away from her, scowling at his cup of coffee in front of him. Yet, oddly, something seemed to wilt inside his chest the moment he stopped looking at her, like a plant withering away due to lack of sun. Frustrated as f**k, his hands slowly balled into fists in his lap, struggling to keep his s**t together.

    “Err... umm,” the barista started to ramble, struggling with words until some coherent ones finally strung together. Even when she sounded like a bumbling i***t, Adrian’s ears hung on every word, relishing in the melodious sound of her voice. “Would you like… any dessert?”

    His beast thrashed again, embellishing his mind with answers to her question, though they were slathered in innuendos of exactly what sort of dessert he, in fact, wanted from her. Adrian’s fists gripped tighter, jaw ticking, his eyes flicking to Darcy. It was the first time he had given the Lycan any attention since the barista had come by, and she looked entertained. f**k her! Her arms were still locked across her chest, her amused expression mocking his obviously transparent ordeal.

    f**k , this... girl... needed to be gone... now! He couldn’t think when she was this close, and he needed to figure this s**t out without her standing here… staring at him like that…

    “No, I don’t want anything from you, and are you through eye-f*****g me? Because we’re kinda busy here?” Chancing a peek at her, watching as the sun-kissed blush of her cheeks paled while her nervous smile dissolved into a vapid line, Adrian knew the venom he had just spewed did its job. Though, the satisfaction he thought he’d feel did not come as he witnessed her crumbling; watching her face fall like that tore at his chest as if f*****g Freddy Kruger ripped the s**t out of it.

    Why the f**k should he care if he hurt her feelings? f**k!

    “Wow, Adrian,” Darcy muttered.

    “I… um…” the girl rambled as she swayed from one foot to the other. “Sorry… excuse me,” she said as she scurried back to the counter. The moment she left, his stomach coiled in protest, the unease prompting his eyes to chase her. She buried herself within a huddle of two other café waiters. Since they enveloped her from his line-of-sight, he refocused on Darcy as he grabbed his cappuccino, though really had no desire to drink any of it. Not while his f*****g body betrayed him, his beast begging him to go see if the girl was alright.

    “What the hell was that?” Darcy’s hand flailed between him and the front of the café where their barista scurried off to. “s**t, Aide… with all the girls I’ve seen fawn over you, I’ve never seen you flip out like that on one.”

    “I’m just not in the mood,” he grumbled, sipping his drink. He set it back down after the one sip, now one hundred percent sure he didn’t want the coffee right now. “Let’s just get back to what we were talking about.”

    “Talking? You mean arguing,” her eyes glinted silver as her beast raced to the surface, gearing up to fight him more about this issue. He smirked, flicking a quick eye-roll. Because she could hype herself up any way she wanted, but there was no f*****g way he was going to back down from what he wanted. And he always got what he wanted. Why couldn’t she see this from his point of view?  

    “There’s really not much else to say,” Adrian shrugged. “This happens the way I say it does.”

    “You may own the building that we pow-wow in, and you may be a Knight Commander of the North American East Coast sect, but you’re not THE big boss man of the Sabatons, Adrian, especially not when your uncle is local. And Âlde Tire said the baby should—"

    “—what he said doesn’t make sense.” Adrian cut in. “If the baby isn’t Tainted, it needs to go back to its surviving parent,” he pressed. “I’ve had the mom thoroughly investigated. She’s not like the baby's father at all. f**k, she’s not even a witch. She’s totally human. And you’re positive the baby isn’t going to be the spawn of a Fallen, so I don’t see the problem here.” He shrugged.

    “Because I agree with the Boss that we need to leave this alone now. What’s done, is done. And, ya, unfortunately, a baby got caught up in everything,” Darcy retorted. “If we get involved any further, even with returning the baby to her mother, it could leave us exposed.”

    Adrian growled. “There are ways we can do this without leaving a trail. I own a damn security empire. You don’t think I can finesse this somehow?” A prickling sensation tickled over his back, causing him to feather his shoulders a little. And he knew what was causing it. He knew she was looking at him. Adrian’s claws dug into his palms, edging slightly into his skin, to keep himself from turning around to find her. Dammit. What was this s**t?

    “Going against Âlde Tire is crazy. Just because he’s your uncle—”

    “---You’ve already tried to use that card on me, and I already said too f*****g bad. Besides, I’ve already started the process of returning the child.” He glanced at the counter, easily finding the middle-aged owner buzzing behind it. “She’s why we’re here. That’s the baby’s grandmother. I haven’t found the mother, Michelle, yet. But I think she’s being safe-housed at this point because we haven’t been able to track her. So, the grandmother is the next best option.”

    “And you told me you just wanted to go out for coffee, huh?” Darcy shook her head with an incredulous frown. She stared at the Sweet Tooth’s owner for a moment before beginning “Adrian—"

    He knew that tone too well. “---No, listen. Darcy,” he interjected immediately, his anger mounting again. Even now, his gums hummed, canines were eager to push out. “I know what it’s like to be without a f*****g parent, ok?” He pointed to his chest; his beast surging forward in a wicked spark of silver. “Only I was one of the lucky ones to get my Dad back.” He grit his teeth, stopping him from starting some sort of Hallmark sob story. No one needed to hear that s**t. A quick exhale buried it back deep inside him.

    “Says the guy who hasn’t called his dad in twelve years,” she knew him too well and so readily scratched at scars she had no business touching. f**k, maybe he needed to cut back on his hook-ups with Darcy. His expression darkened, and she must have known his rage had started to boil his blood, because she stood up from her chair in obvious retreat. “Fine. Do what you want, Adrian. It’s always your game plan, anyway."

    "f*****g right, it is!" Adrian preened.

    Darcy strode over to him, her hand stroking up his arm, gliding across his shoulder until her finger tickled at his neck. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, making sure her lips caressed his ear. “But when you find yourself running with your tail between your legs, remember I’ll always be here to tell you what a good boy you are.”  An hour ago and anytime before that, that little suggestive purr she makes would have shot straight to his d**k. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling heat. 

    He even watched her as she walked out, glued to her delicious ass and voracious curves as she sauntered away. But s**t, why wasn’t that making him go wild right now? He wasn't even semi-hard.

    Adrian continued to glare at his half-empty coffee cup, rehashing everything Darcy and Âlde Tire had used in their arguments against what he was planning to do. Although he knew he should just wash his hands clean of this situation with the baby and let the original plan of shoving him into the adoption program tie up the loose ends, he just couldn’t surrender completely to the idea.

    And ya, all his angsty s**t stemmed from his childhood, which he remembered every damn moment of, despite it happening when he was young. Along with some other gifts he had obtained because he was a Lycan born in Hell, having an eidetic memory was amongst them. So, he remembered what he saw, what he did, and every ounce of what he felt. That hollow, longing derived from the absence of a loved one.

    As he sat, lost within the volleying argument bombarding his brain, a cupcake suddenly pushed across the wooden table, centering right in front of him. 

    At first, he stared at the hand that had cupped the bottom of the wrapper, tempted as all f**k to trail up the honey-tanned arm connected to it. But he didn’t need to, didn’t want to, because he knew it was her. The moment the allure of chocolate coaxed his nose, her scent was seconds behind it, shelling his senses once again.

    So, he kept his eyes affixed to the thick swirl of frosting on the top of the cupcake, even as his pulse ripped through his veins, feeling his d**k harden.