I Don't Want to Meet You

She waited as her breath stayed puffed in her chest for the guard of her dreams to walk in behind them. She could finally go live with her siblings in the same sector, and feel like she wasn't going to be trapped here forever like most unlucky family members that seemed to be left behind.

No one came in after them, though. Myranda even dared to peek around the royal family to see if she could find the mysterious male whose scent that had allured her so strongly.

Who could it be?

She tilted over a little more, but the only thing that was behind the three rulers was her own wall.

"What are you doing?" The King snapped with insult.

"Oh- I.. I...Sorry, I thought..." Myranda trailed off.

"You thought what?" The King repeated her own words with distaste.

"I just..I was.." She was about to cry, she just knew it. Her knees trembled as the cold golden eyes of her Alpha King looked deep into her own.

"Father; was me - I'm sorry, I couldn't help but stare at her," the young Prince came up behind his mother and father and put a hand to his own chest.

That scent grew hotter the closer Metas came towards her. If it had it been something acceptable, and she hadn't hated the royal family so much, she would have done anything to just reach out and touch his hand.

In no way would she try, regardless of any personal reason. What she felt didn't matter. He was the Prince, and his parents were not kind to the lower classes.

She also didn't want to. What would a male like him want with her anyway? He was Prince Metas. She was a baker - and he probably liked it that way.

"Were you put off by her hideous eyes, son?" The Queen asked with sympathy.

"No, I found them alluring. She must have caught me and wondered why," Metas lied.

No. Her mate couldn't be the Prince. No. No no no. Anyone but him - literally anyone but Prince Metas. It must have been a mistake.

"I am sorry, uhm - what is your name?" He asked gently and offered his hand.

"M-M-Myranda," she stammered and reached out for his fingers with her own as though some kind of force was pulling her hand towards his.

"Don't touch him you lowlife bitch," the Queen commanded curtly.

"Metas, don't touch these lower wolves - they work hard and have dirty paws and hands. A bow is sufficient enough. I don't want you catching fleas."

The young woman had never been so conflicted before. On one hand, she didn't want to touch him because of his status -- on the other hand, she wanted to reach out and grab the Prince due to the urge deep in her stomach. He was all she could even care about at the moment.

"Myranda, my apologies that I threw you off such important task," his voice was deep for being only two hundred and twenty- and much like his father, Metas had a deep accent that was sexy and smooth (something the humans used to call 'slavic' back in their time). Each word was crisp, and yet rounded towards the back of his throat.

She also couldn't help but to notice that his eyes were so deep and gold that they burned like the sun.

It mesmerized her.

She hated how much she loved it. She even found his long black hair, and trimmed black beard delightful, and felt that it framed his square face perfectly to where it didn't hide his chiseled jaw, but didn't add to it either.

He was tall, and muscular, too - and it made it hard for her to not stare at him.

"It's... I'm...You don't need to apologize, your highness" she finally managed to stammer out.

"Sorry about her, your royal graces. Myranda came out small and has a hard time processing words sometimes," Syrana lied as she tried to come to her sister's rescue.

The Alpha did not seem pleased with her response, and his tone was sharp and crisp."Is she fit to run this place, then? Surely even the lamest bitch of the litter can bake some bread. Your excuses are pathetic. Does she do this by herself, or do you have to help her?"

"Oh, she does this alone every day - absolutely. She's the best baker we've had in centuries - everyone says so. Please, try some," Syrana offered and pulled one of the tarts from the case with a pair of tongs, and presented it to the royal trio on a lovely ceramic plate that she put into Myranda's hands to serve obediently.

The Queen took the treat with a false smile, and took a small bite out of it as though it had been baked with poison. The King didn't even try it - and when he almost passed up the offer to Metas, he reached over and took it from the plate before it left his reach.

"I'd like to try," he said with a bright smile.

The Queen complained after the nip she had taken cleared her mouth. "It's quite bitter. It needs more sugar - and I don't quite like the raspberries. The seeds still in it make it unpalatable."

Myranda seemed to be able to hear nothing at all other than the breath that exuded from Metas' chest.

She wanted to lay against it so badly, but she also wanted him to buzz off.

She didn't want to care about his opinion.

...but she also couldn't help but hope for a glance of approval from him.

'Please, please like it you stupid jerk-face,' she thought to herself with a deep anxiety that made her feel excited and afraid.

'..Stop it, Myranda - it must be a mistake. He can't be your mate. He can't...'

"It's fantastic, mother - I think you're being unfair. Don't be harsh on baker because I couldn't help look at her," Metas spoke to the Queen boldly, and in return, she ignored him.

Even if Metas didn't have a mate, he was about to turn two hundred and twenty, and that was about the time the eldest male of the litter was due to take the throne. The current Alpha King could always challenge his son if he felt he wasn't ready - but so far, it seemed that Metas didn't want the job that his father coveted so deeply in the first place.

He never tried to fight his father, and he never spoke about ascension to the throne, either. In fact, he seemed like the perfect son who always did as he was told, like he had to impress his own parents to covet their love or respect.

"If you find it adequate, that is fine son" the King replied coldly.

"Father, I'm sorry to interrupt protocol. Can you please forgive the lovely baker?" Metas asked with a charm in his tone as he tried to catch Myranda's eyes.

They did catch hers, and the two of them could feel a deep heat sparkle within their stomachs that was undeniable. She could feel a stir and desire within her to pull him into her own arms and ravishing him in front of his parents and sister to assert dominance.

They must have been mates if she thought that way already.

"Lovely? I raised you to be a gentleman, Metas - not a liar," his mother quipped. "I think her nose got squished in the womb...something's off about her. Her eyes are terrifying, too."

The old Alpha barked impatiently as the atmosphere turned sour. "Enough of this place, we still have the other families to visit, and I grow tiresome of the sight of this abode."

Had King Themis not been so strong, he more than likely would have been replaced decades ago - but even if many took him on at once, he was unbeatable. No one said it, but they all waited for the old male and his Luna to die; but no one broke the code of loyalty and strength within their race.

Rank was everything.

"Yes, give the peasant bitch her plate back and come along, Metas" the Queen added and put her arm around her husband's with affection and power.

"Of course, mother - let me just finish up and I'll be right there, is truly amazing" he said again and turned back to Myranda with a smile filled with crumbs.

His jovial face full of bits of pastry made her giggle just a bit, and when she reached out to take the plate, Metas pulled it from her and replaced it with his free hand so that he could finally touch her skin.

Only an idiot wouldn't see the instant connection they had at that very second. For a brief moment, each of them felt whole, and relieved.

Too bad Myranda's stubbornness often led her to be a completely blind fool.

"I'm sorry about my parents. They aren't kind. I want to be, though. Especially to someone as beautiful as you. I've never found anyone as alluring as you," he admitted hotly and truthfully. Without permission he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"I want to see you again if that would be okay," he asked with her hand not far from his lips, which made the expression he gave her even more thoughtful and genuine.

"I-...." Myranda started and froze as thoughts ran behind her eyes, 'He's a royal - he's horrible - this is just a trick, right? What should I say?' 'He's so handsome, though...and he smells so good..'

Syrana butted in quickly with a smile. "It would make my sister very happy to see you again, sire. Again, she has a hard time with words."

Syri piped in, and tried her best to help as she just couldn't help being stowed away in the back anymore. "Auntie Myranda is lonely, she needs a friend."

"It seems we share something in common then, Myranda. I can't wait to see you again," Metas answered to her as though she had spoken for herself.

She just nodded once in a stunned stance.

"My sister is so very excited to see you again, so come by whenever you'd like, your majesty," Syrana called after him as he turned to the doors to follow his parents.

"She likes the color purple," Syri chimed in 'helpfully'.

"I will, thank you. Oh, and I am so sorry for my mother's behavior...she was wrong about everything she said," he answered with a smile and wave, and then disappeared through the entrance to catch up to his parents.

Myranda said nothing, and was surprised when she wanted him to come back through her doors again.

When he didn't, she was disappointed.

Her older sister was the opposite. She beamed with pride and excitement that matched her daughter's.

"Oh my Goddess - oh my Goddess! Did that just happen!? Am I crazy, or did that just happen?" Syrana chirped out as she danced on her feet much like her daughter did.

"Aunti Myri has a boyfriend! Yay!" The young pup sang and twirled in circles.

With words still lost to her, the younger sister let her jaw drop just a bit as she still waited for him to turn back around just so she could see his eyes one more time - just one more time.