Page 47 of Asking Fur Trouble

I love him.

The realization wasn’t a thunderbolt but rather the final piece clicking into a puzzle she hadn’t known she was solving. Somehow, between his bear-shifting heroics and late nights helping him with paperwork, between his devastating kisses and the vulnerability he had shown her, she had fallen completely, irrevocably in love with this alien king.

Charov turned to her suddenly, as if sensing her epiphany. “What do you think, Bess?”

She blinked, having missed the question entirely. “I’m sorry?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. “Madame Ellara asked if you’d like to join the women’s council meeting next week. They’re eager to meet Earth’s contribution to our royal lineage.”

The elderly woman smiled expectantly, but Bess saw the assessment behind her kind eyes.

Can this outsider handle our traditions? Is she worthy of our king?

Instead of shrinking from the scrutiny as she might have earlier, Bess felt something unexpected unfurl inside her—a steely determination she had always possessed but rarely acknowledged.

“I’d be honored,” she replied, her voice steady. “I’m eager to learn more about Mavac Territory’s customs. On Earth, I managed complex systems and helped people navigate difficulties. I hope those skills might be useful here too.”

Charov’s hand found hers on the table, squeezing it with surprising tenderness. Pride glimmered in his eyes.

The woman nodded approvingly. “Well said, my dear. We meet at midday on the seventh bell.”

As the woman departed, Charov leaned in. “That was perfect,” he murmured.

“I meant it,” Bess whispered back. “If I’m going to be here with you, I want to contribute. I’m not just decorative, you know.”

His eyes darkened, roving over her appreciatively. “No, you’re certainly not just decorative, though I do enjoy the view.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.” His hand slid to her thigh, possessive and warm. “You’ve already proven invaluable to me—organizing my study, handling my schedule, and mediating between me and my advisors. You have strengths I’ve never seen in anyone on this planet.”

His praise washed over her, bolstering her confidence. Maybe she could do this after all. For him. For herself. For them both.

“I just need time to adjust,” she admitted. “Back on Earth, I was invisible. Here, I feel like everyone’s watching and waiting for me to fail.”

Charov’s jaw tightened. “Anyone who expects you to fail will answer to me.”

THIRTY-THREE

Charov signaled for the check. Their lunch was completely ruined by his new royal status. The taste of the meal—some local delicacy he ordered without thinking—lingered bitterly in his mouth, though not as bitter as his disappointment.

His gaze drifted to Bess, who sat across from him, her shoulders slightly hunched. The vibrant green dress she wore highlighted her curves in all the right ways, but her smile had faded hours ago. Now she merely nodded politely whenever someone approached their table, which had been approximately every three minutes since they had arrived.

“King Charov! My sister’s son works in the northern mines. Perhaps you could review the safety protocols there?” An elderly woman placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder.

Charov’s inner bear growled with frustration. He tamped it down and flashed the practiced royal smile his father had perfected.

“I’ll have my staff look into it immediately. Please, have your nephew contact the castle administrator.” He motioned to the waiter. “We really must be going.”

The small restaurant had become increasingly crowded as word had spread of the new king’s presence. What had started as a quaint lunch venue was now packed wall-to-wall with citizens eager to bend his ear. Charov had spent the entire meal navigating political requests, personal grievances, and awkward congratulations on “finding his mate,” while Bess had barely touched her food.

“Ready?” He stood and extended his hand to Bess. His fingers closed around hers, savoring the warmth of her skin. Her touch still sent electricity through him, a constant reminder of their connection that transcended the chaos around them.

They weaved through the crowd toward the exit, Charov using his broad shoulders to clear a path. His protective instincts flared as people pressed in from all sides.

“King Charov, about the eastern trade routes?—”

“My lord, when will the coronation?—”

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