Chapter 307: The Alpha Has Zoomies

Nicholas had the sensation of falling before he found himself standing in a new location.

He blinked a few times orienting himself. Zero glow in sight. They were near a cliff. Ocean below. Tree line behind them. Territory he knew.

"Are you alright?" she panted, looking up at him. She was wrapped around him like they were falling through the fucking sky and the new location was a hallucination.

"I’m fine. Did that hurt you, Guinevere?"

"No. I’m alright," she said immediately. "This is the first time I’ve landed vertical, actually." She flashed him a grin. "Well, you did the landing there. But it still counts."

"I’ll let you have it."

"Thank you for that. You can put me down now," she said.

"I know."

"And yet."

"And yet."

Two words. Full standoff.

She looked at the ground, which was right there, being perfectly available. Then she looked at him. He was scanning the cliff edge with the focus of a man who had all the time in the world and a woman he had no intention of releasing.

"So you are going to carry me, then?"

"Your arms are still around my neck. One of us is sending mixed signals."

She dropped her arms immediately. He still didn’t put her down.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "An hour from Greyhall Crossing."

He lowered her to her boots but did not let go, like she might blow away.

"Are you up for a run? Otherwise you can ride on my back."

She blinked at him, blushed, then giggled, which made Nicholas smile.

"What?"

"I’ve never been offered a ride before." The sentence hung in the air between them, doing absolutely everything she hadn’t meant it to do.

"I’ve never offered one before."

Two people discovering mutual firsts on a cliff in the middle of the night.

Her mouth twitched. "I can run."

"Good." He stepped back, giving her space. "After you."

She didn’t move.

That’s when he felt her nerves through their matebond. Performance anxiety. Genuine, stomach-knotting, please-don’t-watch-me performance anxiety. From this woman. The same woman Nicholas had seen shift in a lethal simulation and run across dragon backs.

She was nervous shifting.

The woman who had jumped across dragon spines like a caffeinated squirrel was now standing on solid ground, terrified of shifting in front of her mate.

It was entirely too cute and he was going to have to figure out how to live with that.

"Your father mentioned you found your wolf escaping from Stonehowl," he said, keeping his voice easy. "You probably don’t remember, but he had said that during the auction where we originally met. So you’re still fairly new at shifting?"

"I’ve shifted a fair amount," she said smoothly.

"Remember, I’ve already seen your wolf," Nicholas said with a grin that had too much charm for a cliffside. "Chased your wolf, more accurately. Through a forest at full speed." His eyes softened by a degree. "My wolf would very much like a rematch."

Translation: my wolf hasn’t shut up about this.

Guinevere knew exactly what Nicholas was referring to. She had mentally labeled him Mr. Alpha Speed during that particular chase. The most accurate of the nicknames so far. She stood by it.

Nicholas shifted.

She had been expecting the usual. What she got was a flash of bright white, then a giant black wolf standing where Nicholas had been a moment ago.

His wolf was one of the largest she had ever seen. Bigger than the wolves at the summit.

For a moment, the wolf looked disoriented. His head shook once, then twice, blinking at the fading light like he’d just woken up from a nap.

She shifted.

White light flashed a second time and a white wolf stood where she had been.

His wolf hit her like a freight train made of enthusiasm.

One second she was standing. The next, a black wolf the size of a small horse had tackled her flat and was licking her face with the dedication of a creature who had been waiting for this moment and was going to make the absolute most of it.

She laughed. A real laugh. But it came out of her wolf’s mouth. The kind that comes from somewhere below the ribs and brings everything good with it.

She had never been licked in the face by another wolf. This ridiculous, undignified, completely un-Alpha-like behavior from a king whose public persona was carved from granite and whose wolf apparently had the impulse control of a golden retriever.

It was absolutely adorable. His wolf grunted in agreement with whatever she was feeling through the matebond. The wolf equivalent of "damn right."

She tried to wiggle free. He let her get exactly two inches before dragging her back with his jaw on her scruff. Gentle. Precise. The correction of a wolf who could have held a butterfly without bruising it but also was never, ever letting her up.

He went back to her ears. Thorough. Relentless. Completely committed to the bit.

This was what the kingdom would look like if the wolf ran it. Less war. More face licks. Everyone pinned until morale improved.

Meanwhile, Nicholas was fighting for control of his wolf, while his wolf kept talking.

Mine. Mine. Face. Mine. Ear. Also mine. Other ear. Still mine.

She huffed. He licked her nose. She huffed louder. He licked it again. She was losing this argument and the worst part was that she wasn’t even mad about it.

Finally, after a good ten minutes of Nicholas’s wolf going rogue, he got off of her.

She braced her front paws to push herself up. She didn’t get the chance. His nose was already under her stomach, scooping upward, lifting her onto all fours before she’d finished deciding to try.

He stepped back and looked at her like that was a completely normal thing to do.

She stood there, fully upright, with the distinct feeling that she had been handled. Her wolf let out another huff.

Nicholas’s wolf looked back at her with the wide, vacant expression of a creature who had absolutely no idea why she was huffing. None. Couldn’t imagine. Total mystery.