Miranda Bonham
"This is for the best," King Luther told me.
I had been waiting for Nixon right next to the back door when King Luther stopped by to talk to me. He was telling me why it was right for me to condemn my father. As if.
"Whether that's true or not, he's still be my dad," I replied, my voice sounding harsher than I'd intended.
Nixon had been trying to avoid an encounter between his father and me. He knew I would snap at King Luther. Being the King and Nixon's father, we both knew he wouldn't take that too well.
"Father or not, he deserves to die."
"I guess that's will what happen either way. It's been decided."
"It's been decided because it is the right thing to do," King Luther said, his face starting to show signs of irritation.
"I wouldn't know that, since I have yet to see this proof that apparently exists against my dad," I retorted.
"The proof is there."
"You all keep saying that. Is it so hard to show me? At least then I wouldn't feel like such a traitor for killing my own father."
King Luther took a step towards me after I said that, standing far too close for my comfort. There was a dark look in his eyes, one that unsettled me.
I almost felt like he wanted to do a lot more than just ball up his fists on his sides.
"I'm your King, Miranda. You do understand that my word is all the proof you need," he said, his breath blowing across my face.
"You weren't my King last month, and Craven has been my father, well, my entire life. Who do you think I believe?" I was trying to keep my voice steady and not break down in front of him.
King Luther was trying to intimidate me and he was doing a good job at that. The only thing keeping me from backing down was that Preston promised he would fix everything very soon.
"Your behavior is disrespectful, Princess. You better than anyone else should know that I am not only your King, but I am superior to you as well."
A smile took over his lips, one that made a chill run down my spine.
"Of course," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"By now, I assumed Nixon would have discussed this with you. You should learn that women in this kingdom do not speak unless spoken to, and that includes royalty." With those final words, he walked away from me.
"Where are you taking me?" Nixon asked.
"Out," I replied, giving him a teasing smile.I had a hold of his hand, as I dragged him through the woods.
"Are you sure we should be out here right now? Your mother will be arriving very soon," he told me.
I stopped my hurried walk and turned to face him. He mustíve noticed the change in my expression, because his arms wrapped around me and he gave me that apologetic look I was getting from him ever since we woke up.
"I want us to be alone for a while," I softly whispered.
"Come on," he said, taking my hand. He led, although I hadnít told him exactly where I was planning on going.
"Are we shifting?" Nixon asked.
He was curiously looking around at the picnic blanket I had set up for both us.
"Not really. At least, not yet," I told him, pulling him down after I took a seat.
I had to fix my dress, which I was forced to wear even for the picnic.
Everything in the palace was a hectic but organized deal. Servants were running around, the king was handing out orders, and most of the Alphas were present. They were making preparations for my father and Zanderís trial and how things would be handled after.
I convinced Nixon to skip the meeting with the Alphas, where Preston and Clay were at, and dragged him to the woods. He agreed to come along without a fight. I knew he only did it because I had been acting strangely, although he didnít know the reason behind that.
"The Alphas just left," Preston told me through our mind link.
"Good," I replied, trying to hide from Nixon that I was talking to my brother.
Nixon was busy setting up the picnic basket that was waiting for us in the clearing.
"Keep Nixon distracted for two hours. Make him block any mind links he might have with anyone in the kingdom. Everyone's ready," Preston said.
"I'll keep him busy," I replied.
There was silence in his end, so I knew he had started to get the plan going. I still couldnít believe he was going through with it.
"Miranda," Nixon called my name. I looked up in time to catch him grinning at me.
"Distracted?" He asked. I smiled and nodded my head.
"Sorry, I've just been thinking a lot," I replied.
"What's on your mind?"
"I can't stop thinking about my dad."
"Oh," he said, lowering his head.
"It's alright. I think it's settling in slowly." I reached out for him and ran my hand over his cheek.
"You look sad and I hate that. I hate that my fatherís decision brought this on. But you have to understand that this was going to happen sooner or later. It has already been delayed enough."
"I know, I get it now," I mumbled.
"We should eat," he said, changing the subject.
"What is it?" I asked Nixon.
We'd been in the clearing for almost an hour when his gaze began drifting off into the distance.
"My father's trying to call me," he replied.
"Don't," I said, grabbing his hand that was rubbing circles over his forehead.
"He's really trying to get in my mind," he said.
"You promised this would be our time. I don't want your father to make us go back. I'm pretty sure that's what he wants. It's like he wants to remind me that my father is getting executed today," I told him, propping up my legs and resting my head on my knees.
My dress made my position slightly uncomfortable, but I sat as best as I could.
"Hey, look at me," Nixon said, putting his hand under my chin and trying to make me look up.
"Give me this time. If your father calls you later on, we'll go back. I just want a few hours away from everything in the palace. I don't want to know their problems with the schedule or what celebration they'll have after killing my father," I said in a low voice.
Nixon cradled me against him after I finished speaking, swiftly sitting me down over his lap.
"I'm right here with you. You're my mate," he told me, nestling his head in my neck.
I could feel his lips leaving small kisses over my neck and just below my jaw.
"I wish you were mad," Nixon told me, chuckling lightly.
I raised an eyebrow and placed my hands on either side of his face to get him to face me.
"Why do you want me mad?" I asked, giving in to a smile.
"Because at least when you're mad, you don't sound like you do right now," he said, closing the distance between us.
He didn't aim for my lips. He nuzzled his nose over my cheek, placing a kiss on my jaw.
"I guess I'm not the best company."
"You always are," he said, before pressing his lips onto mine.
Our kiss started gentle. Only our lips involved, as we moved slowly against each other. My hands were on the nape of his neck, while his were resting on my waist.
He pulled away from me just enough to say, "I love you so much."
I nodded, and brought his lips back to mine. This time, I kissed him with more intensity, tangling my hands through his hair and pressing myself closer to him.
I searched his lips when he moved away from me. I opened my eyes just as he grunted lowly, and placed his hands to his head.
"My father's really fighting to get in my mind," Nixon said, shutting his eyes tightly.
"Do you think it might be important?" I asked, but I already knew more or less what was going on.
If everything went according to plan, and I was praying that it did, I had a fair idea of why King Luther wanted to break the barrier Nixon had created to block everyone out- at my request.
"I'm not sure. I think you were right. He might just want to discuss more plans for later," Nixon said, sounding guilty.
"Ignore him." I had just said the words, when Nixon was crashing his lips against mine.
I wasn't sure if he was in pain, but he seemed to be trying to focus really hard on the kiss. I needed to distract him. I needed Nixon to completely forget that his father was there, or that he was trying to contact him.
This time, it was me who pulled away from him. When Nixon noticed I was moving away from his body, he tightened his hold on my waist, trying to keep me in place.
"Hold on," I whispered against his lips, placing a small gentle kiss on them.
He let me go, but his eyes, which had shifted from their emerald green to a dark coal color, were fixed on me.
"What are you doing?" He asked with a husky voice. The bulge on his pants showed that he wouldnít resist what I had in mind.
His eyes grew even darker if possible, when he noticed I was pulling down the shoulders of my dress.
I stood up, and slowly let the dress slip down my body, leaving me in only a small pair of panties. Nixon growled, in what I assumed was approval.
He placed his hands on my waist and pressed down, leaving a print of his hands on each side of my waist, before pulling me down to straddle his lap.
"I want you," he growled next to my ear, as I grinded my lower body against him.
"You have me."
We were lying down, both naked, over the picnic blanket Iíd set up.
My hand was on his chest, while Nixon trailed his fingers from my shoulder blades, down to my lower back and then up again.
"You have no idea how much I love you, how much I need you," Nixon told me, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead.
"I love you too," I said, looking up at him with a smile.
He looked satisfied and I was feeling the same way. Ever since I talked with Preston about his plan last night, my nerves had been on edge. Mating with Nixon had relaxed both my Wolf and I.
I closed my eyes, and replayed what we had just done. I needed to distract myself in some way. I had been waiting for Preston to call me back, although there was still no word from him.
I was surprised when Nixon grunted loudly in pain. I quickly sat up beside him, placing my hand on his chest.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he replied, putting his hand over mine, which was on his chest.
"Does something hurt? Where? Tell me," I urged him.
Nixon sat up, his eyes closed shut, but I could see the strain in his face. His body was tensed.
"My chest, but it doesn't hurt. It feels, strange," he tried explaining, looking into my eyes with a fear I had never seen on him before.
"What do I do?" I sat on my knees, looking around for something, not really knowing what.
Nixon closed eyes for a second time, grinding his teeth in what seemed like concentration.
"Something's wrong," he said. He opened his eyes, and looked at me.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"My father closed his link from me. He never does that."
We were just about to reach the palace. Nixon was dragging me back, his steps twice as fast as mine. He had insisted on running back in our Wolf form, but I turned down that idea.
Preston had asked that I keep Nixon away. It had been more than the two hours he asked for, but I was trying to give it as much time as I could.
Nixon seemed frustrated with my decision, but he didnít argue with me about it. He had been really complacent since we woke up in the morning. I assumed it had something to do with my fatherís execution.
"While I go search for my father, you can go upstairs and get ready. Your mother must have arrived about an hour or two ago," Nixon told me.
"Wait," I said, bringing him to a halt just before we reached the stairs that led to the tall back doors of the palace.
"What is it?" Nixon asked, sounding like he wanted me to hurry up.
"Thank you, for today and keeping my mind off things. I just, it really helped." His features softened, and he grabbed my waist and pressed me closer to him.
"That's good. I want to lessen this loss as much as I can," he told me.
I smiled and got on my toes so that I could reach him. He held most of my weight in his arms, as I brushed my lips over his.
"I love you," I said, tightening my arms around his neck.
"I love you, Miranda."
This time when he moved away from me, he was walking at a leisurely pace. There was a smile on his lips and the frown had disappeared.
All of it lasted up until the moment we crossed the threshold of the door.
It almost seemed like Queen Lisbeth had been waiting for us to return. We had just taken a few steps inside the palace when Queen Lisbeth began running towards Nixon.
"Nixon!" Queen Lisbeth said, just before she threw herself into Nixonís arms.
He easily caught her, the soft features in his forehead turned to creases as he looked down at his mother with worry.
"What is it?" Nixon asked, attempting but failing to pull his mother away from his chest.
"Your father," she said, in between cries.
"What about my father?" His voice sounded urgent, and he managed to pry Queen Lisbeth away just enough to be able to look at her.
"Your father, he has been murdered," Queen Lisbeth replied, breaking down into sobs.