It's Only a Month
1340 Words
Ren’s POV
I really, really hate Nick Emerson, and I really, really hate these summers.
Archon is a terrible place. Every time I set foot in the bleak, dreary kingdom, I’m reminded of the terrible things that happened here—the terrible things that happened to my mother.
Yes, I know. I know who my father was, and what he did to her. It’s not exactly an easy thing to keep from a hybrid whose “parents” are both wolves. I smell, look, and act different from all the wolves I grew up with, and even as a kid, I knew it. When I was young, all they told me was that my father was dead, and that he was a vampire. When I got older, and started hearing rumors, they told me the truth.
Your father was Ramsay Eaton—the Vampire King of Archon who enslaved a kingdom full of humans and raped your mother.
Not exactly easy words to hear.
Anyway, around the time they told me that, they told me something else: that I had to go on these annual summer trips to Archon.
“We’ll go with you, at first,” Mom told that ten-year-old version of me, her big, gold eyes filled with concern. “When you’re older, we’ll send you alone, but with an armed guard… You’ll always be safe.”
Well, I haven’t died yet.
They didn’t tell me right away the real reason for my summer trips—Vance Eaton’s weird pseudo-betrothal of me and Nick—but it wasn’t hard to piece together. The girls hated me, and the boys always pointed and laughed at me like they knew something I didn’t.
Don’t even get me started on Sabrina Stetson.
They try to keep her away from me when I come to town, but the girl’s poison. She’ll find a way to taunt me, one way or another.
She shouldn’t waste her energy; I want nothing to do with her boyfriend.
Mom and Dad—yes, I call him Dad, even though he’s not biologically my father—have always told me that they’ll never make me marry Nick. My late grandfather, William—my little brother’s namesake—tried to arrange a marriage for her, and it nearly tore them apart. They both vowed they would never do the same for me.
Sometimes I wonder, though. Why do they keep sending me here, if they have no intentions of doing it?
“Chin up, beautiful. It’s only a month.”
I glance sideways at Archer and offer him a weak smile, which is about all I ever have to offer him. Archer Saros is, for all intents and purposes, my self-appointed bodyguard. He’s the son of Camden Saros, the Alpha of the Saros Pack, and has been coming on these summer visits to Archon with me for as long as I can remember. I know Camden well enough to know that this is his own version of matchmaking, but I don’t mind too much. I like Archer. I just don’t want to mate with him.
Which is a bit problematic, given that he’s convinced he’s my true mate.
“You’re going to get it when you turn eighteen,” my best friend and sort-of-cousin, Margery, always tells me. “That’s how it works. He’s already eighteen, and he says you’re his true mate. So there’s, like, a ninety-nine percent chance you’ll feel the same way as him when you turn eighteen and your wolf awakens.”
I scan Archer’s face, frowning, as I recall her words. He’s handsome, to be sure—everything a strong Alpha’s son is supposed to be—six-three; muscular as hell; a chest full of hair he’s more than eager to expose to me whenever there’s an excuse for it. He actually looks a bit like my dad—Rowan, that is, not Ramsay—with long, dirty blond hair and light eyes, which is a bit rare for wolves.
But he’s cocky, piggish, and shallow, and I can’t imagine him ever being my true mate.
Kind of like someone else I know.
I turn my gaze toward Nick, the real reason for my annual summer visits. He was late to the party, of course—always is. He rolled up with his best friend, Caine Oliver, in a flashy, black convertible about ten minutes after I arrived on horseback. He’s wearing jeans, a black tee that hugs his frustratingly bulging, tatted muscles in all the right ways, a leather jacket, and Aviators that mask his normally vivid, azure eyes.
And, damn, does he look good.
I really hate that.
“Your Highness,” he greets in a voice dripping with sarcasm and resentment as he approaches me with an overdramatic, sweeping bow. “Welcome back to Archon.”
“Thanks,” I mutter uninterestedly as I lean forward to dismount my mare. He offers me his hand, but I pretend not to notice. “How’s it been?”
“Great.” It’s really hard to tell which of us is more bored by the conversation. “We’ve got a feast awaiting you in the dining hall when you’re ready.”
“Come, now, Nicholas,” says Vance, Nick’s rapidly aging stepfather—and, technically, my biological uncle. “Surely Her Highness won’t want to jump straight into fine dining after a long day’s ride. Why don’t you escort her to her room first so she can get settled in?”
“Right.” Nick offers me a stiff, clenched smile. “Of course.”
Even his stiff, clenched smile is sexy. His clean-shaven jawline is strong and well-defined, and his cropped, auburn hair contrasts frustratingly elegantly against his pale, smooth skin. Really, how does his hair look that good all the time—messy without looking tangled—coiffed without looking groomed?
I really wish he was ugly.
I glance behind me at my best friend Margery, who’s, as usual, engrossed in a conversation with whoever’s closest to her. She doesn’t look like she’ll mind my early departure.
I hand the reins of my mare, Rosie, off to the wide-eyed stable boy next to me and step to follow Nick toward the castle.
Of course, Archer follows directly behind me.
Nick glances back at him with an irked expression. “Nothing’s changed since the last time she was here, amigo. No, you can’t stay in her room with her, and no, you don’t need to stay by her side at all times.”
“Nothing’s changed since the last time she was here,” agrees Archer evenly. “One call to Queen Red, and all this goes away.”
The first time Nick tried to send Archer away from me, I called Mom—not really because I wanted Archer around, but mostly to piss off Nick, who I’ve pretty much always hated. They’re both right, really. Mom insisted Archer and the rest of the guard stay close to me, but everyone agreed Archer shouldn’t be sharing a room with me.
Myself included.
All I can say is, I hope they’re all wrong that Archer will turn out to be my true mate.
I turn eighteen in less than a month, and if they’re right, things are about to get complicated.
- Writer
