Page 14 of Asking Fur Trouble

“You know,” he said, a hint of mischief flickering in those impossibly blue eyes, “I’m not always this boring. Promise.”

Despite herself, Bess felt a small smile tug at her lips. “Is that right?”

“Last month I went cliff diving in the Cerulean Canyons.” His voice dropped an octave, taking on a silky quality that sent unexpected heat crawling up her spine. “The drop is three times higher than anything on Earth, and the water below is inhabited by creatures with tentacles longer than this transport.”

Bess’s eyes widened. “And you jumped into that? Voluntarily?”

“Not only jumped—I did a backflip.” He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. There was something almost predatory in that smile that made her heart rate accelerate. “The rush is indescribable.”

The transport curved, and Charov’s thigh pressed briefly against hers. Even through the fabric of her skirt, the contact sent electricity shooting through her body. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore how her skin tingled where they had touched.

“What else do you do for fun?” she asked, genuinely curious now. “Besides risking your royal neck.”

“Glacier surfing. Desert racing. Zero-gravity combat training.” His eyes never left hers as he listed each activity, his deep voice flowing over her like warm honey. “My father always said I have the soul of an explorer trapped in the body of a crown prince.”

When he mentioned his father, something tender flashed across his features—a glimpse of the pain he was carrying. Bess felt a stab of sympathy.

“They sound like they are good parents,” she said softly.

“The best.” Charov gazed out at the night sky for a moment. “My mother taught me compassion. My father taught me courage. They ruled side by side as equals—true partners in every sense.”

The wistfulness in his voice made something ache in Bess’s chest. He wasn’t just losing a king or a father—he was losing a role model for what love could be.

“And what did they think of your death-defying hobbies?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Charov laughed, the sound rich and deep. “My mother banned the royal guards from accompanying me after the third one broke his leg trying to keep up. Said it was either let me go alone or fund an entire hospital wing just for my security detail.”

Bess couldn’t help laughing along with him. This was a different man than the stiff, formal prince who had escorted her around the castle. This version of Charov radiated life and energy that was magnetic.

“Look,” he said, suddenly serious, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath caress her cheek. “I know this situation is far from ideal. But I want you to know—I’m not the cold bore you met at dinner. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I’d like the chance to show you who I really am.”

The intensity in his gaze made Bess’s breath catch. There was something raw and honest in his expression that hadn’t been there before. The bear shifter prince was showing her his true self in this moment—not the polished royal, but the man beneath the crown.

She wasn’t sure what to make of him yet. But she was certainly more intrigued than she had been an hour ago.

The transport finally came to a stop at the castle’s grand entrance. Bess’s stomach knotted as two imposing guards pulled open the doors. Charov stepped out first, then extended his hand to her. His palm was warm as he engulfed her fingers completely, helping her from the vehicle.

“I’ll have someone show you to your quarters,” he said, his voice low and intimate. His broad frame blocked the cool night air, creating a pocket of heat between them. “We can continue our conversation tomorrow after you’ve rested.”

TEN

The way he looked at her—as if memorizing every feature of her face—made Bess’s heart flutter against her ribs. She could tell this was the real Charov and he was dangerous in an entirely different way.

Once inside the castle, a petite woman with dark hair and luminescent skin waited with hands folded neatly at her waist. She bowed deeply at Charov’s approach.

“Emesyn will take good care of you,” Charov said, his hand lingering at the small of Bess’s back. The heat of his palm seeped through her blouse, branding her skin. “She’s married to my royal assistant, Torborn. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

“Thank you,” Bess managed, acutely aware of how his fingers splayed possessively across her lower back.

He leaned in, bringing his lips close to her ear. “Sweet dreams.” His warm breath sent shivers cascading down her neck, and then he was gone, striding away with the confident gait of a predator.

Emesyn led Bess through winding corridors of polished marble and soaring arches. “You’ll be comfortable here, Miss Campos,” she said, opening an ornate door. “The prince ordered our finest guest suite prepared for you.”

The room was breathtaking—all plush fabrics and gleaming surfaces that somehow managed to feel both alien and welcoming.

“Where’s Gerri?” Bess asked, running her fingers over a strange crystalline flower that seemed to pulse with inner light. “I need to speak with her immediately.”

“Someone called?” Gerri’s voice chirped from directly behind her.

---