She could tell it had been utterly foreign to him, this sudden need of his to protect her, to fuss over her. The way he had tucked her into bed, but had afterwards seemed to seek confirmation that it had been the right thing to do, the proper way to behave. After a while though, he had gotten a little bossy, the instinctual nature of his caste rising to the occasion.

But she found she quite liked it.

She never liked feeling vulnerable and she had certainly felt afraid at his initial reaction to her moontime, but she definitely liked having him fuss over her… after all, it had ended with her falling asleep in his arms.

Lia always complained about Jared and the men around her fussing and she herself had definitely had her fair share of males around her who did not know when enough was enough, but Vardene seemed… different. Perhaps it was because she saw his actions as helping to heal some hole in him, helping him to realise that some women were worth the attention that males wanted to give them. Helping him to realise that 'to serve' did not always correspond to fear and subjugation.

It was also no doubt because she found she quite liked having him near her, temper and all. Charlie blushed, but did not move from the Warlord Prince's sleeping embrace. Somehow they had ended up entwined in the night and she realized she in no way wanted to disentangle herself from the strong possessive hold of his arms.

He seemed more comfortable with her when he was asleep, more inclined to give in to that part of him that yearned for a woman's touch. And she loved the way his hard muscular form held her safe, held her shielded against the world. Not that she had anything to fear from those of Dena Nehele, but the way he held her now made her realise that had she had all the Blood of the Realm threatening her, he would have stood firm between her and they. Something inside him, still so foreign to him, nonetheless called to the honourable side of the savagery that now dominated him. Something within him wanted her, a woman and potential threat, protected.

Charlie snuggled closer to the man beside her, smiling. Oh yes, she definitely wanted to stay right where she was.

But she was a little worried how he would react finding her so close to him. He had probably only ever slept this close to a woman only a handful of times out of choice. So yes, there was a niggling fear at the back of her mind of what action Vardene would take upon waking.

But she could not leave him, could not go and sit on a chair so that he'd be alone when he woke. She could not. As much for herself as for him. So instead she snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around his sleeping form, drawing comfort as much as giving it, and wanting to hold him forever until his pain went away.

***

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to say, where to look. It had been different last night. His instincts had taken over, his desire to protect her had fuelled his actions. He had known what to do, known how to act.

But now… now he was lost. Again.

She could wear her Jewels this morning. She didn't need protection. She did not need him. She was staring at him now, he could feel her gaze on him, seeing into his very soul. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't meet her gaze.

She had been scared of him at first. She might be angry now. He didn't feel up to dealing with either emotion, but still hoped for the latter rather then her fear. He never again wanted her to fear him, never again wanted her terror filled gaze directed at him. Anything but that.

He was slowly healing. She was healing him, mending the deep emotional wounds within him. Yes, he'd always feel the scars—the whores of Hyall had tormented him for too long for him not to—but she was knitting his once open wounds together, helping him to mend. Giving him a future. And he could not imagine one without her now.

Vardene did not know completely how she fit into his future, he just knew he needed her there. And so he couldn't look up at her, couldn't look into the eyes of the woman whose laughter and light gave him everything he wanted, everything he needed. He could not. Because there he might find fear, he might find anger. He might find rejection.

He kept his gaze averted, his body language screaming his inner turmoil. He heard her rise from the bed he had, only moments ago, left her in. He could feel her breath soft against his shoulder as she stood behind him. His body tensed involuntarily. She would not hurt him. He relaxed his muscles. She was safe.

He felt her slip her hand into his and a moment later he clasped his fingers tight around hers, knowing he'd fight with everything he had to hold on to her, to keep her in his life. He needed her. She was home. She was his.

***

"Aw, come on Charlie, you can't stay mad at me forever!"

"I can try." She really could. Valen should have found out what was going on before he had acted against a terrified and breaking man.

Charlie sighed. No, he had done right. He had seen a threat, and being the highly trained Warlord he was, had acted upon it. Still, she did not find it easy to forgive him for almost beating a man to death. And an untrained one at that.

"Ow!"

"Quit your whining, Warlord, and come and give me a hand with these rolls," came the matter-of-fact voice of Mrs Rae.

Charlie watched with an amused grin as Valen stood shaking his hand exaggeratedly in response to the whack from Mrs Rae's wooden spoon. Perhaps it was not all exaggeration, the woman could deliver a mean blow with that implement.

"I guess next time you will remember to ask if you want a biscuit?" Charlie smiled sweetly.

Valen just growled.

"What are you doing, young man? I need you over here," Mrs Rae's commanding voice announced. "Goodness, but the youth of today are getting lazy."

Charlie's grin got wider.

"After this I think I deserve to be forgiven," Valen muttered as he went off to help the cook, making Charlie laugh.

***

Valen sauntered whistling through the halls. Things were looking good. He grinned. Things were looking very good. Ginnifer, the gorgeous underling of Mrs Rae's, had smiled at him. Oh, she'd smiled at him before, but not with that mischievous glint in her eye, and certainly not with that light blush staining her cheeks giving away wicked intentions.

Valen's grin broadened as his mind wandered to thoughts of bedroom play.

Thump.

Distracted from his heated musings, Valen had a mind to go give the couple so obviously enjoying each others company in the nearby room a piece of his—

Wait. His eyes narrowed as he felt the psychic scent of disgust and loathing rolling in waves from behind the door. He recognized that psychic scent.

Valen barged through the door, Opal-Jewelled shields wrapping him protectively as he came angrily snarling into the room. Vardene's cold dread filled gaze swung to him the moment he entered, standing there, as he was, held against the wall by the small hand of Bryony, a Summer-sky Jewelled visiting Queen.

"Is there a problem?" his voice came out harsh and angry.

"No problem, Warlord," Bryony's amused childlike voice answered him.

"I wasn't asking you, Lady," he snarled, glaring daggers at her.

"I…"

"Warlord, you forget your place. You serve," the little bitch said as Vardene started to speak.

Valen growled.

Vardene's eyes fell from his. His fear and hate still filled the room, but now it was tempered with resignation.

"Besides," Bryony pouted, "I'm a Queen. He has to serve."

She stroked Vardene's cheek. He expected Vardene to rip her hand off, but he just stood there.

"Vardene, you give in to that bitch and I'll make your last beating feel like a lover's caress!"

Vardene stared at him, looked back at the bitch Queen, sneered and stepped away from her contact.

"You cannot do this! He was a pleasure slave and he ser—"

"I wear no Ring! You have no claim on me!" Vardene growled, quickly making up for his earlier submissiveness. "I don't serve you, you little whore."

"You cannot—"

"Oh, but I just did. Leave, bitch, before I slick the walls with your blood," Vardene snarled.

Valen watched as the young Queen paled as she stood staring at Vardene. Vardene stared straight back. Hell's fire, he'll do it too. He had only been holding back because he wanted to stay here in Dena Nehele, had only withheld his temper because he thought succumbing to this little bitch was the price demanded for his new life. But he knew where he stood now, and Valen knew the man standing straight and tall before him would not hold back the next time a woman made unwanted advances. This Warlord Prince would kill to protect the life he was trying to build.