The wolf prince of belfaire

4. A long night

Why was Prince Tristane at my balcony door so late in the night, and how had he gotten there?

The questions spun in my mind as I stood rooted to the spot. The night air, cool and smelling of damp earth and distant rain, swept into the room, carrying with it the impossible presence of the man before me.

“Princess Raya,” he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to tame the wild beating of my heart. A slow smile touched his lips, pulling me from my trance. “Will you invite me inside? Standing on your balcony all night was not my plan.”

“Please… come in,” I managed, stepping aside.

He crossed the threshold not as a guest, but as a conqueror claiming new territory. He moved with that same languid grace, a deliberate calm that defied the sheer danger of his situation. We both knew he could be executed if he were found here. Yet, a palpable power radiated from him, an assurance no other man I had met possessed. It was in every step, every word. I was happy to see him, but as the cool air cleared my head, reason returned. I needed to know what brought him to my bedchamber.

He paused in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the tapestries and carved furniture, his aura of calm confidence filling the space. He was not in armor now, but a simple lavender shirt and black trousers that did little to hide the powerful lines of his body. His silver hair was pulled back in a bun, but a single strand had escaped, tracing the line of his temple like a stroke of moonlight. He admired the regal nature of the room, while I admired the controlled wildness of the man.

The spell of his presence broke, and my own voice, sharp with disbelief, cut through the quiet. “Your majesty, how did you get to my balcony? It is meant to be impossible.”

A smirk played on his lips. “Are you worried about me, Princess? Or are you just curious about how I defied the impossible?”

He answered my question with another. It did not surprise me. “I just want to know how you managed to do it,” I said, attempting to feign a disinterest I did not feel.

“First,” he began, his shoulders shifting with a soft shrug, “I want to call you Raya. Please, call me Tristane. We will be married soon; we can dispense with formalities.” He paused, his gaze softening. “Second, to answer your question, I climbed. I wanted to see you without the eyes of the court upon us. It was a risk, but seeing you now, I have no regrets. And last… I hope I didn’t frighten you?” He stared into my eyes, and it felt as if those bright pools of blue could see straight through to my soul.

“I was not frightened,” I lied, “and I was not worried. Merely curious.”

He took a step closer, the space between us crackling with unspoken energy. “So, you are not curious about my reason for being here?”

“I have a feeling you are going to tell me,” I said, matching his step forward. This was our first private conversation, a strange intimacy shared between two people who had lived under the same roof for two days as strangers.

“One last question,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “Why have you been avoiding me since we met?”

The question was a key turning a lock inside me. The will to resist, to hide, crumbled into dust. I no longer wanted to avoid him. I wanted to run headlong into the beautiful chaos he created within me. The only way forward was to be as direct, as bold, as the man himself.

Before a second thought could stop me, I closed the space between us. I stood before him, a small ship before a towering galleon, and looked up into the blue tsunami of his eyes. I rose onto my toes, my hands finding his strong shoulders for support, and without another moment of hesitation, I pressed my lips to his.

The moment our lips met, it was not a meeting but a collision. His mouth opened to mine, and he took possession of the kiss with a hunger that mirrored my own, as if he had waited centuries for this single second. His tongue explored mine, a wild, passionate dance that stole the air from my lungs. He broke the connection, and we both gasped for breath. It was all the confirmation I needed. He wanted me, too. I felt free, wild, happy, and utterly confused all at once.

“Why did you just kiss me?” he asked, his breath hitched. His eyes, once the color of a calm sea, now burned like blue flame.

The blood rushed to my cheeks, the gravity of my actions finally dawning. But it was too late for retreat. I leaned in again, placing a soft, deliberate peck on his cheek before stepping back, letting my hands fall to my sides. I held his gaze, a princess refusing to be shamed by her own heart.

“You asked why I was avoiding you,” I said, my voice clear and strong. “That kiss was my answer. I have not been able to stop thinking about you, dreaming about you, wanting to touch you, from the first moment I saw you. Keeping my distance was the only way I could maintain control. And now you are here, in my room, in the middle of the night. Why, Tristane? Why are you making it so difficult to not do something wrong?”

He said nothing. He just stood there, his eyes locked on mine. Then, a sound rumbled deep in his chest, a vibration I felt more than heard—a possessive growl. The blue of his eyes seemed to glow, brighter than the flickering candlelight across the room. When he spoke, his voice was a low, hoarse rasp.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you should have,” he growled. “I have wanted you in my arms from that moment. I haven’t been able to sleep, Raya. I leave for my kingdom tomorrow, but I must be sure of something before I go. If you let me kiss you again, I will not be able to stop.” He took a single, final step, closing the last inch of air between us. “I want you. I have wanted you from the moment the scent of roses reached me in the courtroom.” His hand came up to cup the side of my face, his fingers a gentle fire as they caressed my neck and tangled in my hair. “What do you want me to do now?”

The hunger in his eyes was that of a wild animal, beautiful and terrifying, on the verge of losing all control. I should have been scared, but all I cared about was the way he looked at me, as if I were the only thing he had ever wanted. I let go of all sense, all reason, and gave him an answer I never imagined I could voice.

“Tristane, if you want me,” I paused, placing my palms flat against the hard wall of his chest. I rose to my toes again, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered my honest, reckless answer.

“If you want me… then take me.”

…

Standing there now, in the cold, silent aftermath, the memory was not a soft recollection, but a perfectly preserved lie, a beautiful tapestry woven to hide a dagger. He had planned it. From the moment he saw me standing next to my father, perhaps even before that. He had planned to use me, to betray me.

The chill from the wolf’s howl still clung to my spine, but a new fire burned through it. I had to know. I had to see his betrayal with my own eyes.

My body remembered its purpose. I took a step forward, then another, the rhythm of a woman walking toward a devastating truth. My feet found their purpose, and I moved forward, breaking into a near run.