Florida to meet with Gabriel, I unload the Jeep and pour myself a glass of wine. The doorbell rings as I’m taking a peek inside the grocery bags. I check the clock on the stove. Right on time.
Opening the front door, I smile at the wolf shifter standing on my porch. “Hey, Tripp. Come on in.” Tripp is a tall, handsome male with tawny skin, green eyes and a scar through the middle of his right eyebrow. Every time I see that scar, it reminds me that not that long ago he was ambushed and almost beat to death as a message to me. In the six months of my rule, he’s grown to be one of my most trusted leaders, which is why the Gorm allowed him to park and walk up to the front door. While Earthside, the Gorm are cloaked by one of my mother-in-law’s invisibility spells and are stationed around the outside of the house and the perimeter of the property.
“Good day, Your Majesty.” Tripp bows his head to me as he enters the house, a small pack on his back.
“We’ve talked about this, Tripp. Call me Nina.” I roll my eyes. “I know my mother enforced a top-down style of leadership and demanded formality, but I’m not going to rule that way.” That’s not to say we’re all going to sit in a circle, hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya,’ but I want all of my leaders to know they can talk to me, that I’m interested in what they have to say.
Tripp follows me through the house to the kitchen and places the rolled-up pack on the counter before taking a look around. “You have a beautiful home, and that’s a great view.”
I take in the elegant simplicity of the decor—an all white interior with light-wood furniture and accents of gray or tan. The large windows provide the artwork, and the ocean is the blue-green canvas that constantly changes. “Thank you. We love The Outer Banks and plan to spend a lot of time here.”
“Where’s Ash?” Tripp asks.
“I arranged for him to be out for a couple of hours. Can I get you a drink? Glass of wine? Beer?”
“A beer would be great, thanks. We should probably get started. Is this a special occasion?”
Going to the fridge, I pull out a beer, open it and hand it to Tripp. “Our first wedding anniversary is coming up, and I want to do something special for him. I heard the way to a shifter’s heart is through his stomach.” I could have gotten Ash the expected gift of a watch to symbolize the passing of a year, but he has hundreds of watches. What he has never had is a home-cooked meal prepared by me, so I asked Tripp to give me a cooking lesson. In addition to being one of my leaders, Tripp is the chef and owner of a popular restaurant—the Black Pelican—with his sister, Hannah.
“Happy anniversary. And you heard right about shifters and their stomachs,” he says with a smile, unpacking the groceries and placing the items on the counter. “Looks like the store included everything I ordered.”
“What are we making?” I ask, looking at the assembled ingredients.
“Well, since you said you weren’t experienced in the kitchen, I thought we’d keep the menu simple. Surf and turf with baked potato and a side salad.”
“Sounds great. What can I do?”
“Why don’t you rinse off the potatoes and pat them dry, and I’ll show you how to properly season the steak and make a rub for the shrimp?”
Doing as Tripp asked, I bring up my encounter in the grocery store parking lot. “Silas Duke approached me today while I was out running errands.”
“Really? He’s got a set of balls on him,” Tripp says, turning on the oven.
“Yeah, big ones. He walked right up to me and tried to intimidate me in my own territory. What’s his story?”
“He’s the head of a motorcycle club that just opened a new charter here. They bought a garage and wrecking yard on the outskirts of town. They’re not exactly keeping a low profile. The club’s been terrorizing the locals, and recently a couple of working girls went missing. The girls were last seen with Silas. The human cops don’t seem that interested because the girls were prostitutes.” He shows me how to season both sides of the steak with liberal amounts of salt and pepper.
“Silas said you paid him a visit.” I place the cleaned and dried potatoes on the counter.
“I went over to their garage. Warned Silas that if he had anything to do with those girls disappearing, I’d be back.” Tripp unwraps the shrimp from the butcher paper and points out several spices and the olive oil. “Sprinkle a little from each of those on the shrimp.”
“Is Silas human?” I ask, following Tripp’s direction. “I thought I felt some power on him at the end of our conversation.”
“He’s human as far as I know. I’ve never sensed any magic coming from him.” The stove beeps. “Take a fork and poke some holes in the potatoes to allow steam to escape. Then put them in the oven.
“Either way, I’m not going to allow him to pick off or terrorize the humans in my territory. This isn’t his hunting ground.” I stab each of the potatoes several times. “We’re going to have to move him on or kill him.”
“I agree.” Tripp nods. “I’ll make our position clear. I’ll go see him tomorrow.”
“I’m going with you,” I announce, placing the potatoes on the middle rack of the oven to bake.
“That’s not a bad idea. A show of force will help strengthen your relationship with your leaders down here. You need to make your presence felt. Some of the guys think you’ve been hiding out in Avalon.”
“Is that what you think? That I’ve been hiding?” I ask.
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I think you’re going to be a good ruler for the territory, but I’ve spent more time with you than the others have. They’ve sworn fealty to you, but they won’t follow a paper queen for long. A demonstration of your commitment will help put everyone’s mind at ease. Solidify your relationship with us and show that you’re more than bravado and saber-rattling.”
This is what I like about Tripp—he’s a straight shooter and doesn’t treat me with kid gloves. Ever since my father almost killed me in a fight for my crown, Ash has treated me as if I’m the delicate down of a thistle. That a stiff breeze might carry me away. He manages me, occupying me with tasks that keep me at home so he can handle the dangerous job of enforcing our claim on the territory. If Ash thinks he’s going to package me in Bubble Wrap and place me on a shelf for safekeeping, he’s very much mistaken. “I don’t mind proving that I’m here to stay or that I have what it takes to be a good queen.”
“That’s good to hear. You inherited the title and the territory. Now you have to earn it,” Tripp says, not unkindly.
“I hear you.” Letting Tripp’s words sink in, I take a sip of wine. “Back to the task at hand. What’s next?”
“Why don’t you chop up the red onion for the salad.” Tripp unrolls his pack on the counter to reveal a dozen different knives. He pulls a large, wicked-looking blade from the pack. “Use my chef’s knife.”
I take the knife and pick up the red onion. Here goes nothing. I attempt to cut up the onion while holding it in my hand.
“What are you doing?” Tripp asks wide eyed. “Are you trying to cut your hand off? Where are your cutting boards?”
“How should I know?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Haven’t you chopped an onion before?”
“I’ve never chopped or cooked anything before.”
Tripp opens a couple of cabinets and finds a large wooden cutting board. “You have no kitchen skills at all?”
“Absolutely none.” I laugh. “We eat a lot of takeout.”
He places the cutting board on the counter in front of me. “Put the onion down on the cutting board.”
I place the onion on the board and go to cut off the end.
“Wait. Stop. If you cut the root off, the onion won’t hold together while you chop it. And you’ll release the chemical compound that makes you cry. Here, hold the knife like this.” Tripp stands behind me and adjusts the knife in my hand, his other hand comes around me to steady the onion. “See how you have more control? Let the weight of the knife do the work as you cut it in half.”
The sharp knife slips easily through the onion.
“Now hold your hand like this, and use your knuckles as a guide for the knife as you chop.”
Tripp guides me through the process, and I’m pretty proud of the pile of onions I’m creating when the warmth of Ash’s smoky magic brushes my skin. I look up to find him standing in the doorway. “You’re home early. You’ve caught me in the act.” I smile broadly at my husband.
Ash stands there silently, yellow eyes gleaming and power radiating off him in waves. Tripp releases the knife and backs a few steps away from me.
I’m about to scold Ash for being rude when I consider the scene from his perspective. I’m laughing and having a drink with another male. A male who basically had his arms around me. It’s completely innocent, but if the roles were reversed, the house probably wouldn’t have a roof on it right now. But I’m a jealous Scorpio; Ash isn’t. He is a stubborn Taurus, though.
I open the mate bond so we can have a private conversation. You’re not the jealous type, so what gives?
The only answer I get is the heat of his power roaring across the bond.
I try again. Happy early anniversary. I wanted to surprise you. Cook dinner for you. Tripp is showing me the ropes.
He had you cornered and with an arsenal of knives close by, Ash answers.
Cornered? Stop it. You know Tripp would never hurt me. Besides, I’m capable of defending myself, I reply.
I don’t trust anybody where your safety is concerned.
Ash breaks eye contact with me to growl at Tripp, who calmly crosses the kitchen to stand in front of him. Then Tripp tilts his head to the side and exposes his neck in a show of submission.
Ash inhales deeply and lets Tripp stand there for several long seconds.
What are you scenting him for? I ask.
Excitement. Arousal. Fear.
“Tripp’s finding out I’m not exactly a domestic goddess,” I say aloud in an effort to break the tension in the room. “I think I’ll retire from the kitchen after this.” With Ash’s mucho overprotectiveness rearing its ugly head, I decide not to mention I’ll be running Silas out of town with Tripp tomorrow.
Even with Ash literally breathing down his neck, Tripp doesn’t display any emotion, and the confident set of his shoulders combined with the show of submission deescalates the situation.
Ash pulls his power back, extends his hand to Tripp, and they share a firm shake. “Don’t ever touch my queen again.”
“Understood.” Tripp bows his head to Ash.
You’ve totally succumbed to testosterone poisoning. You’re in full-on beast mode. I get that he’s a dragon shifter, but by nature, he should only be half beast.
Tripp’s a shifter, too. He knows better, Ash says simply and closes the mate bond. But he does roll his shoulders back, grab a beer, and take a seat at the breakfast bar to cheer on my culinary adventures.
Tripp shows me how to prepare the rest of the meal from arm’s length while he and Ash talk about the best local fishing spots. Even with Tripp’s constant guidance, I burn the shrimp and set off the smoke alarm—twice. Thankfully, he ordered enough for a third try. Once all the food is ready, Tripp wishes us a happy anniversary and takes off.
Ash and I carry our plates out to the deck with a bottle of red wine to watch the sunset and enjoy my first, and probably last, home-cooked meal.
He pours each of us a glass of wine and then lifts his in a toast. “To your beautiful dinner. Thank you for this great surprise. I could get used to this.”
I lift my glass to his and wrinkle my nose. “My cooking is more of a special occasion thing.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you could take some more lessons. Turn it into a hobby. A lot of people find cooking relaxing. Did you know that the goddess of the hearth, Hestia, is revered for her cooking? And sewing. And knitting. I’m just saying.” Although his tone is joking, it holds an undertone of truth.
Knitting? Is this an attempt to lure me into the lovely, but safe, net of domesticity? I bark out a laugh. “I already have relaxing hobbies, Ash, like horseback riding and driving.”
“Nobody’s relaxed when you’re driving,” he says with a lift of his brow before biting a shrimp in half.
With a sweet smile, I push firmly back against his carefully cast safety net. “Actually, I was thinking about learning how to drive a race car. Did you know that you can drive a NASCAR by yourself at the Charlotte motor speedway after a little instruction?”
Ash chokes on his bite of shrimp and takes a sip of wine. “No, I didn’t know that. You’re always full of surprises, Princess.” He looks out over the Atlantic for a moment and then returns his gaze to mine. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
We eat our meal as the red sun disappears into the ocean on the horizon. While the misunderstanding about Tripp is completely forgotten, the push and pull of our relationship remains. Ash wants to insulate me from anything that might be dangerous, and I want to live a bold life, being true to myself.
They say the first year of marriage is the most difficult—with a near annulment, troublesome exes, kidnap, torture and attempted murder—I’m willing to bet ours has been more difficult than most. So I understand why Ash is protective and wants to shield me from any kind of harm, but I have to learn how to stand on my own two feet. And he has to let me.
I’m the Queen of Avalon.
There are going to be problems and adversaries that I have to face.
Pressure is a privilege, and I was born into both.
