Zion

“Let’s go.”

I’m dragged along, his fingers wrapped around my forearm tightly as I’m pulled beside the King out of my room. “We’re are we going? Clearly the Senate is still here, so why aren’t you with them?”

Zion ignores me, checking to make sure my attire is deemed appropriate by him. Marisa came in earlier, handing me a beautiful cream dress, a pencil skirt bottom and a tad form fitting around the bust. Hitting just s tad above the knee and a modest front, for sure I am supposed to look classy and elegant at the same time. Paired with simple nude heels, my hair pulled back in a sleek pony tail, and a simple layer of makeup, I do know that Zion wants me to make an impression wherever we are going.

As we enter the throne room, the front doors open, Zion checking me once more over as I can’t help but groan. “I think I look presentable for whichever noble you are wanting to impress,” I comment as the fresh air hits my face. We walk down the stairs to where a sleek Lamborghini awaits us, the doors opened by two palace guards.

“It’s not the nobles I am worried about,” Zion responds, moving his hand off of my arm, only to be at my hip as he holds me closer. “It’s the public.”

My eyes widen before I can even get a chance to run, Zion pushing me into the passenger side as the door is shut right away. “What the hell!” I shout as the King takes the driver’s seat, a smirk upon his face. “You’re making me go out in public, with the damn press too?!”

No response as the engine starts up and we drove off. This will be the first time I’ve left the palace to go to another location of civilization, which kind of frightens me. “The press will be there, and I will announce to them-

“That what? I’m some rogue who lives in the palace? They will think I’m some whore for the King who must of gotten knocked up because that’s why I’m still with you.” Zion chuckles, finding my worries funny as I scowl. “What? That we are to be married and have some messed up happily ever after?”

“I would prefer a elf to marry us then,” Zion jokes, gaining a combination of vulgar words to flow from my mouth. “They will simply see us out in public, ask a few questions, and take pictures as they come up with some story for hormonal teenage wolves.”

I laugh at the last part, understanding perfectly well why. Many of my friends had pictures of King Zion when he was a Prince even, each hung up on their wall as many wanted to be swept off their feet by him. So childish now to think of it. “And what will we be doing in the public area?”

“Shopping.”

“For what exactly?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as Zion shoots me a billion-dollar smile of perfect white teeth. “Because my feet are going I hurt like a bitch in these heels.”

“No swearing when out either,” Zion comments. “Not professional.” I roll my eyes, looking towards the village of the nobles, royals, and just any wolf individual or family with some other importance to the government. A small brick village, though the houses are not small, many estates lurking around with massive properties. Some homes are mini castles that surround the village, and as you go inward, they begin to look a little more upper class than billion-dollar houses.

The roads are bricks, the cream and light brown colors looking beautiful with the luscious green grass. Gardens are maintained here very well, and the further you get to the city center, the more flowers you see. Soon enough it all looks like Amsterdam, the houses next to one another, narrow shops lined up to make a long strip mall with residences going from the second to even fifth floor.

It looks like a fairytale, how everything seems like a cute little village built to be a cheerful place. However, today it looks isolated, not a soul present as we drive further in towards the center. “Where is everyone?”

“At the town square,” Zion replies. Makes sense, the King coming to town would mean his subjects would be somewhere to greet him with open arms and warm faces. “We will greet the mayor, his family, and then, the crowd will dispense except for the press. As the crowd leaves, we go on with our little trip.”

“Why is the shopping aspect so important?” I ask, crossing my legs as I look Zion dead in the eye. “I bet you have enough ties to go with every pair of shoes you own.” Zion chuckles, shaking his head as my heart skips a beat.

That’s when I hear it, the cheers. Looking ahead, I’m greeted by multiple faces of smiles and individuals wearing the latest pastel trends as the car pulls through a massive crowd that creates the street for us. “When we get out, just smile, I’ll just put my arm around your waist and lead you on.” I nod with the plan, watching as a man and a woman stand behind a beautiful fountain with angels and wolves, the marble beautiful as the water comes forth.

The man and woman are no doubt the mayor and his wife, behind them their two girls, probably about to start high school by their looks. “I hate this,” I mumble, the car pulling up to the fountain, a set of guards holding role back to grant us safety.

“Then let us do this together, Sybil,” Zion comments. “Besides, with me by your side the whole time, I think you’d rather enjoy it.”

Rolling my eyes once more, Zion opens his door, getting out as he fixes his navy tie, walking around to my side of the car as pictures are taken by countless people. For sure Zion looks like one of those billionaire bastards who get all the chicks with one sly smirk. I still wonder why he’s chosen me out of all people.

My door is opened, Zion offering me his hand. I take it, his fingers wrapping around mine as I’m hoisted up, the camera flashes right away startling me as questions are asked. Questions about who the woman beside the King is.

His arm is around my waist just like Zion planned, a guard takes the keys and drives off, leaving the two of us-well, mainly me- with no escape from these people. We take steps forward, ready to meet the mayor as I can hear the cameras still taking their pictures and the people wondering who I am.

“King Zion,” the mayor greets, bowing his head as the rest of his family curtsy, his two daughters scanning my entire appearance as I feel uncomfortable. “Welcome, we are honored you could make it here in such a beautiful day.”

Zion offers the mayor a smile, thanking him for the nice greeting and explaining that he came here to do some shopping. As to what he is shopping for, I don’t know. Maybe a new watch, car, suit, or something that will just make me yawn. Yet, Zion does not seem like the type of person to drag me out for that kind of trip. “I was planning on leaving around one and heading into the city as well.”

My heart skips a beat as excitement makes it beat even faster. The human world, the world I love, the world I know how to live in and also tolerate deeply. But why does he want to go there? “Of course, your Majesty, we can let you be on your way here.”

The major turns to his wife, the beautiful blond smiling at us. “Thank you once again for taking the time to greet us.” Goddess, it’s not like he’s coming to your home to give you a meal because your daughter is sick, it’s because he just wants to go shopping.

I’ll never understand royalty.

“These are our daughters, Isabella and Nichole.” The two blonds curtsy again, saying hello as they take in the King. For sure he is a looker, hell, I found him attractive before I met him, only now, it doesn’t bother me. Why? Because to me he can either be a complete asshole or a confusing individual. “I hope you have a good day.”

We thank the family, the mayor explaining to the crowd that we are here for leisure. I guess this must be very usual, for the crowd dispersed back down the streets or into shops, getting the day ready, but some teenage girls still stay behind along with the press.

Right away Zion pulls me closer and takes quick steps out of the street and away from the press. “They are going to ask many questions, just stay silent and let me handle them,” he explains.

“You didn’t tell me we would be heading to New York City,” I comment, following him around a corner, a beautiful street before me that makes me think of Prague. “It’s a pretty important detail.”

“Yes, it is, but I didn’t want to tell you the reason till now because you would have thrown a fit at the castle.”

I scowl, watching as his golden eyes scan the store names. “And what is this reason?”

We enter a shop, one beautiful one filled with what I did not want to see. Dresses. Not just dresses that I’ve been wearing for simple meet and greets, but the ones you would see on the red carpet, ones that I know I could never afford.

“We are throwing a ball for the Senate, Nobles, and Royals,” Zion informs, letting go of my arm as a worker comes out of the back.

“We? You mean you,” I exclaim, rolling my eyes just as the worker bows her head and turns to the King.

“How can I help you?”

I let Zion do the talking as he explains he needs me in a beautiful dress for a ball, one that sweeps the floor and is fit for a Queen. The Queen comment makes my jaw clench, wanting to punch him in the face, but it’s a common term for someone wanting a dress to top all the others.

For ten minutes the woman goes over the different fabrics and lengths, Zion listening as I stare out the window to see teenage girls passing bye, whispering as they point. I can’t believe I would have been one of these girls, only I knew age difference at that age.

Hell, how old is Zion anyway? I’m betting he told me one night, but I don’t recall his age at all. Sure, I’m legal at the age of eighteen now, but just how old is the King?

“What color were you thinking for this event?” the worker asks, pulling out a small book of every color in the world. Even the whites have twenty different shades. No doubt the grays have fifty.

Zion takes the book, flipping right into the red section. Of course he would do red. Either red or purple, as known for colors of elegance. For not even five seconds he looks at the sheet before showing the worker the red shade, keeping it hidden from me.

“Are you sure red would work?” I ask, crossing my arms as they are practically planning my ball dress without me.

“I’m sure,” Zion replies, offering me a small glance before going back to the worker talking about the fabrics. I decide to leave the plotting of the dress to them, wondering around the shop, running my fingers upon the already made dresses. No doubt these cost more than I could ever afford, even more than a year’s worth of rent where I was staying, not to mention New York City rent is not cheep.

Every now and then I watch the people who pass bye the shop, looking in as I look at them. They look like your typical upper crust of society, how they hold their heads high, their struts establishing power, and their clothes displaying wealth. These are the people I don’t find to be good friends.

“Sybil,” Zion calls, making my head snap around to see him handing the woman a black card. He just planned my first beautiful dress without me. It better be one hell of a dress or I’ll knee him right where the sun doesn’t shine. “We’re off to the city now.”

The car pulls up before the shop, a royal guard hopping out and holding the driver door open, awaiting us. Zion takes my hand, pulling me with him out of the shop, only to be stampeded with the press.

Questions are asks, ones of who I am, my name, my reasons for being here, who I am to the King, and countless questions along those lines as pictures are snapped left and right. The royal guard comes to my aid as Zion gets into the car, shutting the door quickly as I follow, my door shut fast as well. “You did well,” Zion comments.

I remember weeks ago when I first arrived how Zion said he would not let my name or my appearance be leaked until he found it right. So I guess he thinks it is time for the werewolf empire to know my appearance. No doubt once my old pack gets ahold of this they will leak my name and how I was made rogue.

Damnit.

Once we are gone and heading to the long road I was taken here on, I shut my eyes, falling back in my seat. The soft hum of the engine is all I desire as my heart beat is slow and peaceful. Fingers run through my hair, massaging my temples as well as I lean into the touch. I know who it is, I’m not dumb, but I really do not care at this point. I’m tired.

As my jaw hits the seat of the driver, Ik surprised as to how much I’ve let myself travel just because of his stupid touch. I can hear Zion chuckle as I barely pull back in shock. Right away, his fingers work their magic again and I decide to not give a single care in the world.

Resting my head in his lap, I relax once again as those fingers run across my face, tracing the bones of my jaw, drawing circles as I almost want to purr like some idiot. It’s as if all my problems have been thrown out the window by his stupid touch. For sure his lap is comfy, but makes my cheeks heat up as I remember the night that I almost forgot what was going on.

“I hate you,” I mumble, gaining another chuckle as Zion moves my hair away from my neck, tracing my jugular vein. He’s getting close to striking a nerve with his movements now.

“No you don’t, if you hated me you’d be attacking me for even being in the same car.” He’s right at that.

I sit up, looking right into his eyes as I yawn. “Why are you throwing a ball? Just for the Senate and all of those snobs?”

“I felt like it,” Zion answers, weaving his fingers with mine, pulling that hand over to his side. He kisses my palm, letting our hands rest on his lap as I want my answer. “Can’t a King throw a ball for single reasons. Besides, it will help the Senate de-stress.”

We reach the human world, excitement filling my body as I think about the nights I would shift and just let myself run free.

“How big will it be?”

Zion smiles, pulling me in for a quick kiss as I’m shocked. Just as quick as it happened, it stops, my eyes wide.

“It will be fit for a Queen.”