Chapter 2 - THE SCENT THAT MADE A KING KNEEL
The stranger stared at me for so long that I began wondering whether I'd accidentally stolen his coat.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Behind him, the driver went completely still.
“Dondre,” he said again, more urgently. “We need to leave.”
The tall man finally looked away from me.
“Give us a moment, Elias.”
“Your Majesty—”
My eyebrows rose.
“Your what?”
The driver closed his mouth.
I looked between them.
“Are you royalty?”
The stranger appeared to be considering how to answer.
“Something like that.”
“Wonderful. I borrowed a prince's coat. Of course I did.”
His expression softened.
“Dondre Blackwood.”
He offered his hand.
I adjusted the collapsing box against my chest before shaking it.
The moment our fingers touched, a pulse of warmth traveled up my arm.
It wasn't electricity.
It was deeper.
Like hearing my name spoken from inside a dream.
Dondre felt it too.
I knew because he inhaled sharply.
His golden eyes fixed on mine.
And then, without warning, he lowered himself onto one knee.
Right there.
On a flooded Seattle sidewalk.
I stared at him.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
He looked up.
“Excuse me?”
“Get up.”
He blinked.
“Miss Evans—”
“People are staring, and I haven't even had dinner.”
For the first time, the driver looked genuinely horrified.
Dondre seemed equally surprised.
Then he did something unexpected.
He laughed.
Not politely.
Not the measured sound of a man humoring a stranger.
A real laugh.
He rose slowly.
“Forgive me.”
I studied him.
“Do you always kneel in puddles when meeting unemployed women?”
“No.”
“Good. Because it's a terrible introduction.”
His smile lingered.
Then his gaze shifted toward the corner.
Every trace of amusement disappeared.
A man stood beneath a black umbrella.
He wasn't looking at the traffic.
He was looking at me.
Dondre moved slightly between us.
“Elias.”
“I see him.”
The driver's voice had changed.
Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation drained away.
“What is happening?” I asked.
Dondre looked at me.
“Would you allow my driver to take you home?”
I tightened my grip on the box.
“No.”
He paused.
“That's understandable.”
The answer surprised me.
“I don't mean to be rude, but I don't know you.”
“Then let me introduce myself properly.”
He took out his phone and handed it to me.
The screen displayed a news article about Blackwood Holdings, a multibillion-dollar forestry and renewable-energy company headquartered in Washington.
The photograph showed Dondre standing beside an international delegation.
The caption identified him as Dondre Blackwood, president of the Blackwood Sovereign Council.
“Sovereign Council?” I repeated.
“A hereditary organization.”
“What kind?”
“One that's difficult to explain on a sidewalk.”
I looked toward the umbrella.
The man had disappeared.
My stomach tightened.
Dondre noticed.
“Someone has been following you.”
I shook my head.
“No. That can't be right.”
“Have you seen that man before?”
I thought about the office where I'd worked.
The security guard.
The strange meeting.
The termination notice.
And the unfamiliar silver car that had been parked outside my apartment for three nights.
“I don't know.”
Dondre's expression grew serious.
“Please allow Elias to call you a licensed taxi. You can choose the destination, and we won't accompany you.”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
“That would help.”
Twenty minutes later, I stood outside my apartment building, still wrapped in Dondre's coat.
He hadn't followed me.
He hadn't asked for my address.
He hadn't demanded my phone number.
The taxi had been paid for, and the driver had dropped me at the corner I chose.
Everything should have felt normal.
Except for one thing.
My skin still tingled where Dondre had touched me.
I climbed the stairs.
Unlocked my door.
And found a cream-colored envelope lying on my kitchen table.
I stopped breathing.
I had locked the apartment that morning.
The envelope carried no stamp.
Only my name.
HONEY EVANS.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The Blackwood king has found you.
Do not let him learn what your mother was.
I stared at the words.
My mother was a dentist.
She lived in Ohio.
She baked terrible banana bread and called every Sunday.
What could a stranger possibly know about her that I didn't?
Then the kitchen window rattled.
I turned.
Outside, standing on the fire escape, was an enormous gray wolf.
May you like
Its eyes were almost human.
And it was looking directly at me.
