Taken by My Werewolf Bodyguard Read Online Marian Tee

Categories Genre: Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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When he came out of the inn, the first thing he saw was his little hellcat surrounded by her new family. He still hadn’t a fucking clue what they all were. The only thing he knew and did not like was that they had wings. Those damn wings were too powerful by half, and it meant Calys would one day be able to fly away from him – and he would be unable to run after her.

He took a step towards them, and they turned to him in unison. The Queen, the Prince, the Knight, and the Princess. His princess. Calys. The way they were looking at him – everyone but Calys – made Alejandro rigid with tension. His instincts told him he was better off turning around and walking away. If he didn’t give any of them the chance to speak, nothing would change.

When he reached her, Calys immediately raised her gaze to him. Her eyes were glassy, but she was able to look at him straight in the eye, as if she was determined to prove to herself she could face her fears.

“Calys—-”

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. “I have spoken with my family, and we have all agreed that this is the best thing to do under the circumstances.”

She bowed deeply to him, as if in gratitude, and he hated it. He didn’t understand why, but her next words explained it.

“From here on, you are formally and honorably discharged from your position as Cavaliere. My sincerest gratitude for the services you have rendered, but after this...” Her voice broke. “After this, I trust you understand if I tell you I n-never want to see you again.”

Chapter Two

CALYS

“I can’t believe you were around all these years and I never knew.” I was the first one to break the silence as we reached the gazebo the locals had built at the edge of the town. Made of reclaimed wood, the beautiful whitewashed structure offered stunning views of the bay and was often rented for mating ceremonies between shifters.

“I’m not surprised. You never struck me as the sensitive type.” This, from Juriaan, who was not, as it turned out, as gentlemanly as he had portrayed himself to be in the past. Apparently, that was all to win my trust. And it worked, I had to admit. It had made me look upon him like a younger brother, with his unassuming boy-next-door air about him, even if he was in fact a couple of years older than I was.

“Stop teasing your cousin, Juri.” This was from Amalia, my mother, who, as I soon found out, was overly protective of me. The first time we met, I had found myself overwhelmed by how much alike we looked. The same blonde hair and blue eyes – we could have passed as twins if she wasn’t a head taller than I was.

“But it’s true, Your Majesty. She has this way with words that reminds me of...” Juriaan pretended to think then glanced at Amalia in feigned shock. “Why, she reminds me of you, Your Majesty.”

My mother laughed, the sound drawing smiles from all of us – even my brother Vladimir. The prince had black hair and violet eyes, his skin dark. I had heard from Juri that he took after our father, the King who had gone mad and tried to kill us all. It was probably the reason why he appeared extremely forbidding, his beautiful face rarely softening with a smile.

When he saw me looking at him, his voice was quiet and gentle when he asked, “What is it, little sister?”

I blurted out, “You need to stop feeling guilty about what happened.” The first thing he had said to me when we met was sorry, like he – a five-year-old boy back then – was responsible for my kidnapping.

Behind me, the Queen gasped, and unease flashed in Juriaan’s eyes. Vladimir stiffened, but he didn’t say a thing, forcing me to continue awkwardly, “Every time you look at me, I see guilt in your eyes. It’s like you’re blaming yourself for what happened—-”

“You know,” he said musingly, “they warned me about your candidness.”

“I’m sure they said I was appallingly blunt.”

“Yes. They did.”

I lifted my shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I can’t help it. I was raised as a warrior.”

Juriaan, Vladimir, and my mother exchanged looks.

“We were warned about that, too.” Amalia was clearly trying not to smile.

Seeing my confusion, Juriaan explained, “In our race, girls are, well, girls.”

I asked slowly, “Do you mean...that I’m the only female Souri who has dark fits?”

“Ah, well, that one is a royal trait, I’m afraid. The Prince and the Queen share it with you and so will your eldest sons and daughters. But what I am referring to is your warrior-like ways. Female Souris do not fight. At all.”


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