Fated mate.Not political convenience. Not arranged compatibility. Fate itself, undeniable and absolute.
He forgot to breathe.
“Well now,” Gerri’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, sharp with knowing satisfaction. “Isn’t that interesting.”
Kovrak jerked back, dropping Faith’s hand like it had burned him, fighting to reassemble his composure. But the mate bondhummed between them now, alive and demanding, making his skin feel too tight and his control feel gossamer-thin.
“Faith has also agreed to serve as your public companion for the festival events,” Gerri continued smoothly, as if she hadn’t just witnessed his entire world realign. “A cultural exchange, you understand.”
Faith looked suddenly overwhelmed, her brown eyes darting between them with growing alarm.
Kovrak forced his voice to remain level and casual. “No pressure at all. The public events are quite enjoyable, actually.”
Liar.
This wasn’t political inconvenience anymore. This was destiny, cruel and perfect in its timing. Human or not, inexperienced in their ways or not, the mate bond had chosen. And everything he’d built his life around—order, control, careful planning—had just become irrelevant.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Kovrak managed, stepping back before he did something catastrophically stupid like reaching for her again. “I have some preparations to attend to.”
He turned and walked away with measured steps, leaving behind the most important person in his world now without explanation.
Behind his rigid composure, his tiger paced in triumphant circles, already planning a future Kovrak refused to imagine.
Mine.
THREE
FAITH
Prince Kovrak’s retreat struck Faith like a slap—too swift and too controlled, like a man fleeing something that might bite back. The massive foyer suddenly felt cavernous around her, all vaulted stone and echoing silence, while her pulse hammered against her throat with stubborn persistence.
Her palm still tingled where his skin had touched hers.
That handshake had been nothing like the polite greeting she’d expected. It had felt like lightning finding ground—a shock of recognition that traveled up her arm and settled somewhere deep in her chest, humming with electric possibility. Her body had responded before her brain could catch up, every nerve ending suddenly alive and aware in ways that made no rational sense.
Impossible.
Faith forced herself to breathe evenly, searching for logical explanations. New planet. Alien atmosphere. Royal intimidation factor. She was a small-town baker standing in a palace that cost more than her entire neighborhood, meeting actual royalty for the first time. Of course her nervous system was firing on all cylinders.
But that didn’t explain the way Prince Kovrak’s pale blue eyes had locked onto hers with laser focus, or how his presence had felt like standing too close to a barely contained storm. He hadn’t just been handsome—though the sharp angles of his face and that perfectly trimmed goatee certainly didn’t hurt. He’d been magnetic in a way that made her feel simultaneously assessed and desired, like he could see straight through her careful composure to something she didn’t even know existed.
The memory of his voice—deep, controlled, with an edge of roughness that suggested hidden depths—sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
Focus, Faith. You’re here to bake desserts and collect a paycheck. Not to melt because a prince has a jawline carved by the gods.
“Fascinating,” Gerri murmured, her eyes sparkling with what looked suspiciously like triumph. “Absolutely fascinating.”
Merral stepped forward with the kind of gentle authority that suggested he’d spent decades managing delicate situations. His pale eyes held thoughtful assessment as they swept over Faith’s face, cataloging reactions she wasn’t sure she wanted analyzed.
“The journey was disorienting, I’m sure,” he said smoothly. “You should have time to settle in before dinner.”
“Dinner?” The word escaped sharper than intended, alarm bleeding through her carefully maintained composure.
“With my nephew Prince Kovrak,” Merral confirmed, as if discussing the weather. “A private meal to become better acquainted.”
Private.Better acquainted.Heat crawled up Faith’s neck as the implications settled. Of course—she was supposed to be his public companion for the week. They’d need to establish some kind of rapport before appearing together at royal events. This was business. Professional networking with a side of cultural exchange.
So why did the prospect of sitting across a dinner table from those ice-blue eyes make her stomach flip like she was sixteen again?