Page 48 of Asking Fur Trouble

“Is this your future queen? When’s the wedding?”

Charov placed his hand on Bess’s back, guiding her forward while keeping the crowd at bay. He felt her tense beneath his touch.

“Almost there,” he murmured close to her ear, inhaling the faint scent of citrus in her hair.

At the door, a young bear shifter blocked their path, eyes wide with excitement. “My king! I’ve waited all day! Could you please sign this for my cub?” He thrust forward a small wooden carving of a bear.

Bess subtly shifted away from Charov, stepping into a pocket of space near the door.

His bear roared inside.She’s pulling away. Fix this.

“Just one moment,” he told the eager father, quickly scrawling his signature. Then he reached for Bess’s hand again, threading his fingers firmly through hers.

“No more delays,” he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear. “The king has personal matters to attend to.”

A few knowing chuckles rippled through the crowd, and Charov watched a blush creep up Bess’s neck. The sight stirred something primal in him.

As they stepped into the bright afternoon sunlight, Charov felt the heavy weight of the crown press down on him. He failed today. Failed to give Bess the attention she deserved, failed to balance his public duties with his private desires.

And his grandmother’s ring in his pocket felt heavier with each passing minute.

Charov guided Bess through the throng of people, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. His inner bear was itching to growl at anyone who dared step too close to his mate. When they finally reached his silver hovercraft parked at the edge of the town square, he took a deep breath.

“Finally.” He tapped the biometric scanner, and the sleek vehicle’s doors slid open with a soft hiss. “Allow me.”

He helped Bess into the passenger seat, unable to resist brushing his fingers along her arm as he did. The way her green dress hugged her curves made his mouth water, and he had to force himself to focus on the moment.

Once settled in the driver’s seat, Charov engaged the privacy shield, tinting the windows to prevent any more curious onlookers from peering in. The hovercraft hummed to life, rising a few feet off the ground. He guided it away from the town center, heading back toward the castle through a scenic route along the river.

“Bess, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That was a disaster. I had no idea we’d be mobbed like that.”

She stared out the window, her profile illuminated by the afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass. The golden rays caught the highlights in her wavy brown hair making it shine.

“It wasn’t what I expected either,” she said quietly.

Charov’s grip tightened on the steering controls. “I promise it won’t happen again,” he said firmly. “Now I know, and I’ll be better prepared in the future.”

Bess turned to him, her emerald eyes searching his face. “What does that mean exactly?”

The vulnerability in her expression made his chest tighten. He had never felt this protective of anyone before—this desperate to make things right.

“It means that when we go out next time, we’ll have options.” He reached over and grabbed her hand gently, his thumb caressing her soft skin. “We can either arrange for more privacy—I know secluded places where we won’t be disturbed—or we make it an official royal appearance where the expectation is that we’ll mingle with the people.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “So not every outing has to be a royal circus?”

“Not at all.” He flashed her the roguish smile that used to win him admirers across Nova Aurora. “I know how to disappear when I want to. Been doing it my whole life.”

A hint of a smile played at her lips, making his heart race. “That sounds... really good actually.”

Charov squeezed her hand. “I want you to be comfortable here, Bess. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

The hovercraft glided smoothly above the water, creating ripples on the surface below. The castle appeared in the distance, its spires gleaming in the sunlight. Charov noticed the worried crease between Bess’s eyebrows deepen as the hovercraft glided further over the water. Her fingers fidgeted with the emerald fabric of her dress.

“Charov,” she said, her voice barely audible over the engine’s hum. “Will our life always be this way? The constant attention, the people, the demands?” She looked up, her eyes wide with concern.

His inner bear wanted to pull her into his arms, to show her through touch rather than words that whatever life threw at them, they would face it together. Instead, he eased back on the throttle, slowing their approach to the castle.

“No,” he said firmly. “That’s not how this works.” He flashed her another grin. “I never paid attention before, but I understand now why my parents maintained the country cottage—why they insisted on getting away regularly.”

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