Being the princess of all werewolves is not easy, but finding a mate is harder. Annabeth's royal life is turned upside down when she meets her mate, Kate.
Soon, she finds herself stuck between two choices: her duties to her family, and her love for...
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The first thing I do as I get home is venture into my room but despite my customary secretiveness, I leave the door open. I briefly let my gaze wander over my own personal chaos; it seems as if no one has been here, which is honestly hard to believe. I grab a black folder from my desk, tuck it under my arm, and stalk back out on my crutches, annoyed but with determined steps.
The aisles are empty and even as I pass the kitchen, no bustling clatter of pots comes out. Most of the year it would be unusual, but Christmas is coming and at Christmas, the palace goes into a kind of hibernation. In the past, Charlie and I had to endure the tiresome state visits until after New Year's, all the endless flights across the globe, the meals, the petty conversations, and meaningless activities spread over afternoons that just wouldn't end.
It was like a revelation when Father agreed that Charlie and I could actually use two weeks of rest too. Of course, this agreement did not come without a quid pro quo, but what are a few more balls a year, a few more courtesy receptions, when you have fabulous weeks with no, or almost no, obligations?
I've never been to his office, which is not to say I don't know exactly where it is. It's a repurposed conference room, with big dark heavy tables, lots of chairs, and now a bug-proof individual office where he spends most of his time. The doors swing open a little more noisily than I have intended, and all heads spin my way.
All except one.
He leans serenely over his assistant's shoulder, finger pointed at a document, but she just stares at me with wide doe eyes.
"Everybody out," I don't say it loud; I don't say it brashly, I don't say it threateningly. I say it as if I were ordering a coffee, and yet it doesn't take a minute before the room is almost completely empty.
"Hello, Ann," The expression in his eyes is friendly, an amused twinkle behind a controlled facade, "How about we talk in my office?" He gestures to an almost black oak door.
"Peter," I say, accepting his invitation and I nod before following him. I wait until he has dropped into the beige recliner opposite me, the color a stark contrast to the otherwise so desolate interior. Carefully, I place my folder on the table and slowly, very slowly slide it over, looking him directly in the eye. "You knew, didn't you?"
He leans back, "Knowing, my dear Princess," smirking as he spreads his arm wide to showcase the huge number of folders, files, binders, and portfolios stacked in this office "Is my job."
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I do like Peter, a lot to be honest, more than most. He is smart and smug, cunning, and always finds the right words to either defuse a situation or fuel it, depending on his mood.
"He wants her, right?"
"Her?" He asks, his face still awfully casual.
Now, I do roll my eyes, "Yes, her. You know who I'm talking about. Kate."
