The Curvy Rogue

Chapter 4

**LORRY SPRINGSTONE / KELLY THOMPSON’S POINT OF VIEW**

Mr. Braxton’s initial enthusiasm crumbles. He grows nervous, lost in thought. He tries to stay composed, but something deep within him seems to trouble him greatly.

His heart races, its beat echoing in the office. His chest inexplicably swells. He presses his massive pecs with both hands to return them to normal, but it’s no use.

“Are you alright, Mr. Braxton?” I ask anxiously, but his mind is elsewhere, and his body continues its strange transformation.

His ears widen, his beautiful brown eyes suddenly turn blood-red, and a sharp, canine-like stench fills the air.

There’s no doubt in my mind: Mr. Braxton is a werewolf, on the verge of turning into a wild beast. I can’t allow this in my school, filled with humans who’ve never seen a wolf outside books or movies.

I imagine the lasting trauma this would cause my poor students and teachers. On instinct, I grab a glass of cold water from my desk and throw it at him, desperately hoping to stop his transformation. To my surprise, it works. Shocked by the cold water’s sting, Mr. Braxton yelps like a beaten dog.

He quickly regains his senses, and the parts of his body that had begun to shift return to human form. Once his mind clears, as you can imagine, he’s not pleased at all.

“What kind of behavior is this, Miss Springstone? Is this how you treat your guests?” he snaps, anger etching his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Braxton,” I reply, hurriedly grabbing a towel from my bag to wipe the water off him.

“It’s fine, Miss Springstone, I can handle it myself,” he retorts irritably, pushing my hand away.

I understand his reaction after what I just did, but his gesture stings, feeling inappropriate. Timidly, I return to my seat while Mr. Braxton, using my towel, dries the water from his elegant silk suit.

Once finished and visibly calmer, he finally turns his attention back to me. He flashes a forced smile, as if nothing happened, likely thinking I, a mere human in his eyes, didn’t notice what was unfolding. Then, with steely determination to complete his mission, he speaks softly, his eyes locked on mine, addressing my refusal.

“Miss Springstone, I must say I’m impressed by your loyalty to your school. Few would turn down such a grand opportunity. In these tough times, who would have the courage to reject not one, but two gold bars offered by one of the most powerful kings to ever live, for a job that’s hardly demanding? One or two tasks, and voilà, two gold bars in your bank account. Still, Miss Springstone, would you reconsider your decision to please my king?” he asks calmly, his face grave.

For a messenger, Mr. Braxton is truly remarkable. He masters diplomacy and the art of negotiation. His honey-smooth voice and sparkling, magnetic eyes nearly captivate me. With this new approach, I almost give in and say yes.

I still don’t know if it was the Moon Goddess herself who pulled me from this enchanter’s spell, but a deep force within me helps me firmly yet politely decline his golden invitation.

“Mr. Braxton, you’re a charming man. I wish I’d met you in different times or circumstances. Unfortunately, you’ve come at the wrong moment: a time in my life when I’ve chosen to step away from a certain world. Please don’t ask for explanations! Take it as it is. You may leave now; I have a lot of work on my desk,” I say.

Mr. Braxton is taken aback, but this time, unlike before, he stays calm. However, he ignores my request to leave and, with renewed determination, plays his final card, hoping I’ll yield.

“Miss Springstone, I’m afraid you don’t grasp the urgency of the situation. The king’s only son and heir is gravely ill, and his case requires special attention. We would have preferred to find a doctor within our… uh, community,” he corrects himself, hoping I know nothing of werewolves, “to treat the child. For years, we’ve been desperate, until a friend of the king told him about you and your exceptional medical skills. We’ve studied your research results on various rare diseases, and I must say, we’re impressed,” he insists.

But, as you might expect, instead of softening, my heart hardens like stone. I start to grow annoyed with this man I initially took for a gentleman, who now irritates me. I decide to use language he’ll understand quickly: a good verbal kick in the pants.

“Mr. Braxton, get out of my office, damn it! And you can take your cursed gold bars and shove them where I think!” I say sharply, raising my middle finger.

The tall, imposing royal messenger is struck as if by lightning. His confidence collapses, and, ashamed, he stands and leaves my office without a word.

Relieved, I return to my paperwork, hoping I’ve closed that chapter.

Then comes the moment to head back to my cozy apartment in central Liverpool, where I live alone but comfortably, with a spectacular city view.

But I hadn’t anticipated the sudden arrival of kidnappers who, on my way home, seize me and take me into a black car with tinted windows, heading to an unknown destination. My eyes are blindfolded the entire journey, and one of the kidnappers warns me to stay silent if I want to live.

I never get a clear look at their faces, but I sense they’re powerful and massive.

After a long drive, the car stops by the roadside. They pull me out, and two of my captors grab me by the arms. We enter what I think are bushes, as I smell herbs and trees.

Suddenly, I hear roars, as if surrounded by wild animals—but not the kind you know. Then, a familiar scent hits me: the same strong stench as Mr. Braxton’s. Someone removes my blindfold, and my eyes widen in shock as I find myself back in what was once my home. Yes, I’m back in the Southern clan.

“Miss Springstone, welcome to the kingdom of Alpha King Jason Bentley,” Mr. Braxton says with a smug smile, half-transformed into a wolf.