Chapter 109: Inseparable

Daphne

There was a moment of stunned silence. I stared at Louis with my mouth hanging open. Surely, he hadn’t just said what I thought he had said. But the way he was staring at me assured me that I had heard him just fine.

Across the table, Pilar sat, stunned and horrified, frozen in place. Then she let out a shrill giggle. “Oh, you are kidding. You must be kidding, right?”

Louis gave her a cold look that would have shriveled a more intelligent woman in her seat. He pushed back his chair and stood with graceful dignity, towering over both of us, before he held out his hand to me. “Let’s go.”

I scrambled out of my chair, still so shocked that I didn’t know what to do, what to say. Should I deny it? Should I go along with what the king had stated so seriously and factually? Was he having a relapse in his mental health issues?

He put his hand on the small of my back, and, as usual, a feeling of overwhelming calm flooded me. He smiled calmly at one of the waiters. “Miss Daphne and I will have our dessert in my chambers, Erick.”

The server bowed his head in acknowledgment and then scurried off to the kitchen. Louis spared a cold glance back at Pilar, who was gripping the table like it might jump away from her at any moment. “Enjoy the rest of your meal, Miss Larkin. Good night.” And with that, he pushed me out of the dining room.

He said nothing more. Normally, we would retire to my suite after dinner. We had started a habit of sitting together, playing chess and just chatting until it was time to prepare for bed. But this time he went to his door, pushed open the heavy doors, and stood aside for me to enter.

I’d never been in his rooms before. They were beautiful, even more so than mine. Soothing earth tones and deep navy blues adorned the luxurious furnishings, the walls, and the stunning art works. I didn’t know enough about antiques to know what was what, but I had a feeling the finely crafted pieces were all very old, very original, and very fitting for a member of royalty. The carpet was so thick under my feet that I felt like I was walking on a cloud, but when I sat on one of the chairs, it was hard as a rock, like the cushion was stuffed with sawdust.

But it was good, it jolted me out of a dreamy fairy tale, and back into reality. I finally voiced the question that had been hanging in the air. “Why did you say that?”

Louis sat down on the chase and rubbed his hands over his face. “I honestly have no idea, Daphne. I didn’t plan to, but I don’t regret it either.” He leaned down to unlace his black leather shoes and then to pull them off his feet. When he wriggled his toes, I noticed there was a small hole in one of his socks, and the tip of his big toe was poking through. It seemed so incredibly silly to see the king of the werewolves with something as common and ordinary as a holey sock that a weird laugh bubbled out of my throat.

He looked down at his feet and a lopsided smile softened the lines of his face. He gestured for me to come to him, and I did, as the pull to be near him was too strong to ignore, the comfort he offered too addicting to deny. He swung his legs up on the chase and settled me beside him, and then guided my body down so that I was lying on top of his chest, with my head tucked under his chin.

His long-fingered hands stroked my hair, and when he spoke, the rumble from his chest soothed me. “I heard something today,” he said quietly. “My investigators were notified of a traffic violation by the New York Department of Motor Vehicles. A speeding ticket was issued to the driver of a black Jeep with Vermont plates. The plates don’t match the numbers you gave me, but the vehicle was registered to one Nashville Turner.”

I lifted my head to look in his eyes. “Nashville?”

“Mmmhmm.” Louis agreed, almost lazily. “We got a driver's license, and an address in Rutberg. I’ve sent two of my people to check it out.”

Rutberg. Just a short drive from the university. What if this whole time he’d been so close? Literally, right under my nose. Somehow, that stung more than the idea that he might have fled the state. Or maybe the whole country. The thrill of progress in the search was somewhat dulled by the ache of pain and disappointment.

“Daphne…” His hand slipped from my hair down to my back. “I will help you find this Nash Turner. But if he doesn’t step up for you and for this baby, I meant what I said. I will.”

I buried my face back into his chest. “That’s very gallant of you, Louis. But you don’t have to. I’m not afraid to face the consequences of my own choices. I will be an awesome single mother.”

“I have no doubt about your courage or your strength, or your ability to be the best mother to your child. I’m not merely being chivalrous. I know I have no right to say this, Daphne, but I feel… deeply connected. To you, to this baby. I would like nothing more than to be your partner, to be a father to this child.”

What could I say? Intellectually, what he was suggesting was outrageous. He was my best friend’s father. He was the king of the northern werewolves. We hadn’t known each other, really known each other, for more than a few weeks. Yet I couldn’t deny that something felt so right with him. Like we’d been together forever. He didn’t rock my world like Nate - no, Nash - like Nash had done. But as I lay there in his arms, I felt a deep sense of belonging. Like he was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be his.

That lonely, aching place that Nash had left? Louis didn’t exactly fill it, he didn’t make it go away entirely… but he made it hurt less.

The hand that was rubbing my back slipped over my hip, over the curve of my butt cheek, and I felt desire ripple through me. Not the raging firestorm that Nash had ignited, but something just as profound.

Was it wrong? Louis had just told me that they had found the jeep, he had found an address. Louis had sent some of his people out to look for the father of my baby. Yet with that knowledge, I turned my lips and pressed them against the bare skin of Louis’s throat.

His fingers tightened around my hip, and he grumbled, low in his chest. I kept kissing him, working my way up the corded column of his neck, until I reached the edge of his jaw. He shifted under me, and I felt the evidence of his desire pressing against my thigh.

I wriggled around to straddle him on the narrow chase lounge, and sat up. For a moment, I stared into his eyes, and he gazed into mine. And then I reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, and then dropped it on the back of the furniture. I wasn’t wearing anything fancy underneath. Unlike Pilar Larkin, I didn’t dress for seduction. I wore a practical blue satin bra that didn’t match my pastel-purple cotton panties. But I didn’t feel bad about that. Not with Louis staring at me like I was a goddess.

His hands trembled slightly as they moved over my bare skin, and his breath hitched. “So beautiful,” he murmured. His palms moved over my breasts, cupping them gently over my bra. Such a gift.”

While his fingers continued to explore my skin, I unbuttoned his shirt, parting the fabric to expose his chest. He didn’t make any attempt to stop me this time, so I scooted back, reaching for the buckle of his belt. We moved slowly, savoring each moment. I couldn’t help but mentally compare. Making love with Nash had been almost frantic, like we were both desperate to complete the connection.

With Louis, it was exactly the opposite. The connection was already there. There was no hurry, no desperation. I stood to shed the rest of my clothes, and Louis followed me, kicking off his pants, and peeling off his socks, yes the sock with the hole in the toe. And then he picked me up with a grunt, and carried me to the four-poster bed. I sank into the mattress, putting my head back on a pillow that smelled like Louis. Soft, silky sheets slid under my skin, as Louis settled between my legs.

His fingers parted the folds of my sex, and my mind drifted back to Nash.

I shouldn’t be thinking of him, not now, not when I was making love with Louis. But I had this eerie feeling, almost like he was there in the room with us. When Louis’s mouth found my most sensitive spot, I gave in to the fantasy. I let my fingers weave through Louis’s long, wavy hair, but let my imagination pretend that Nash was there too. I slipped a hand over my own breast and pretended that it was Nash’s strong, rough hand.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was unfair to Louis. But I clung to that fantasy. Somehow, picturing the three of us together made it feel better, made it feel right. It made every touch from Louis feel more potent, it made the desire in my core turn white-hot. What started as just a flutter became a steady pulse, and then a tremor.

“That’s it, mon cher,” Louis murmured, pausing to kiss my inner thighs. “Come for me.”

My body was eager to obey as he moved up my body, sliding over me with perfect friction, until he lined up with my core, and I spread my thighs to welcome him. The pleasure coiling inside me was more than sexual. All the tension of the last few months wound around me. The confusion and the passion of Nash Turner, the fear and adrenaline of tracking a mentally unstable bear, the stress and exhaustion of finishing my masters, the exhilaration of completion, and the anxiety of an unplanned pregnancy.

And the unexpected connection with a king.

When I reached my release, it was like all of it was unloosed in one, massive, seismic wave. I held tight to Louis’s strong shoulders. I felt his muscles tighten and shift beneath my fingernails. I opened my eyes, and I could almost swear that I saw Nash’s face behind Louis. I dragged my gaze back to Louis’s face, the expression of intense focus, the bead of sweat near his hairline, the way his eyes dilated, and his body went stiff.

I bit down on my lip, and swallowed down the cry, because I honestly wasn’t sure whose name would slip out if I opened my mouth.