Page 6 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

My father peered into my eyes as if searching for the truth. I felt his penetrating gaze straight to my gut. I held his gaze unblinking. Stepping back a fraction, the king allowed me my space. I felt my lungs swell with oxygen as if they were starved.

Heaving a deep sigh, my father said, “I believe you, son.” His lips thinned. “I know how deep your hatred runs for the werewolves.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “But that still doesn’t explain why a female werewolf’s scent clings to your skin like a cape.”

My jaw twisted as I considered my next words. Could I really tell my father the truth? That I had found my mate in the enemy. King Tridar was a just and fair leader, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a highly dominant male with a quick temper.

I inhaled a steadying breath and straightened to my full height. “I met my mate here. It’s…,” I paused a heartbeat, eyeing my father. Cold realization rinsed his face, his eyes widening, mouth parting. Bile punched up my throat. “It’s the werewolf princess, Ember Vaughan.”

Silence drenched in tension blanketed the two of us. King Tridar shook his head slowly. “It can’t be,” he murmured. “Are…are you serious?”

I dropped my head, tugging at the strands of my hair in agitation. “I wish I weren’t, Father, I do. But the female is my mate.”

My father whirled away, his back ramrod straight. He placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head. For the first time since knowing my father, he was at a loss for words. A pang stabbed at my heart at seeing him reduced to this because of me and my bond with the enemy female. My fists trembled with the urge to slam them into something. The dark powers within my core swelled, seeking a release.

My father turned sideways. Rubbing at his chin, he angled a look at me that was calculating.

The fine hairs at the nape of my neck lifted.

What the hell is he thinking?

“This could work…,” King Tridar murmured. He gave a slow, contemplative nod. “This may be just what we need after all these centuries.

I raised a brow eyeing him through narrowed eyes. “What? What is it?”

My father slid his gaze toward me as if he realized I was still in the room. He straightened and faced me. Drawing near again, he said, “We must hurry if we’re to make the summit on time.” With that, he swept past me and exited the room.

I whirled, gaping at my father’s retreating back. “What could work?” I demanded. Hurrying after him, I drew up alongside my father, my long legs matching his quick strides. “Father, what in star's name were you saying back there?”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” He warned, narrowing an eye at me. My jaw clenched. He looked ahead again. “Besides, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Cold dread snaked down my spine. Whatever my father was planning, I knew with every bone in my body that I would not like his idea. Yet, it was too late to press him for any further information, for the King swept into the Great Hall. All eyes swiveled to him and then on me soon after as I followed my father to our section of the terraces. Everyone was already seated. Raised brows and narrowed eyes from the werewolves revealed they were not pleased with waiting.

To hell with them.

My gaze connected with Nazarril’s, the king of the elves. He stood on the minstrel balcony as he’d done yesterday—overseeing this summit like some benevolent angel. His eyes narrowed a fraction; lips pursed at the corners—obviously not pleased that we were late. A quick glance at the giant clock on the opposite wall indicated we were only two minutes late. King Nazarril cleared his throat as we took our seats. Further hinting at his irritation.

I glared openly up at him.

Hell, what a prickly son of a bitch.

“Careful there, little brother.” A soft snicker.“Wouldn’t want to see you turn into a pillar of ice.”

A glance out the corner of my eye showed my brother, Solarus, eyeing me with a devious grin. Undoubtedly, the bastard would like to see me get into an altercation with another royal for the pure hell of it. He was mischievous that way. As the middle sibling, I figured he’d been overlooked as a child and formed a twisted ideal of what it meant to entertain oneself.

Everyone knew of the elf king’s power over the ice element. Many feared being turned into an ice pillar and suffering for centuries, unable to breathe yet still being held alive, encased in ice under his magic. Whispers across the lands said it was an unfathomable suffering to undergo. I found such fears oddly amusing. Course, having elemental fire brought a certain immunity to ice.

I scoffed under my breath. “Please,” I grumbled. “My elemental fires would roast him before he could even lift a finger at me.”

Sol leaned closer, his warm breath fanning my cheek—shoulder-length raven hair brushing my shoulder. “Want to wager a bet on that? Five hundred Earo, you walk with an icicle up your ass for a week.”

I flipped him off. A dark chuckle met my ears, only to be cut off with a grunt. Alaria must’ve socked him in the side again. I smirked. Our little sister always did know how to rein Solarus back in. She might as well have placed a bit between his teeth.

Movement out the side of my eye snagged my focus. I turned, and my blood began pumping through my veins like pistons. Ember Vaughan stepped into the Great Hall. Murmurs undulated from the werewolves already seated, yet I paid them no mind. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the female before me. My fingers twitched as if they remembered the feel of her soft curves as I held her tucked against me the previous night.

She walked with her shoulders rolled back, chin slightly notched with authority. Her soft auburn waves cascaded down her back like crimson ribbons of the finest silk. My hands itched to sift through them, measuring their softness. The soft lavender gown cinched in at the waist accentuatedthe flare of her hips, the mound of her breasts rounding to tempt me beneath the heart-shaped neckline.

Desire pooled low in my gut. I unsheathed my phantom claws, weapons of shadow, the talons pricking my thighs in an attempt to cool down my building lust. Now was not the time to get a hard-on. Ember strode past the noble wolves and took her place in the row behind her parents. Then, I spotted the dark crescents that clung to the skin beneath her eyes, the way her shoulders hunched forward once she’d sat, as if weariness seized hold of her limbs and robbed her of strength.

A notch of concern flared within my chest. I almost shot to my feet—demanded to know what was wrong, except…I did not have the right to be concerned with her, nor should I be. A fae didn’t inquire about his enemy’s health. I remained in my seat, stiffened, biting the inside of my cheek till I tasted the iron tang of blood.

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