He held no fucking illusions to her instantly smiling at him and falling into his arms. But his instinct wanted to at least talk with her and ensure she was safe.
He couldn't offer much, but protection was one thing he could.
River growled, "Wait, Stone. I haven't fucking finished telling you what not to do."
He grunted and ignored the fae witch. Even if his main job was security at the Fated Wheel, Stone sometimes helped Ambrose Yates—the Dark Lord's nephew—with the rescue of abused or enslaved paranormals. Just because Stone was muscled, and tall, and could make lesser males cower with a look didn't mean he couldn't be gentle or less intimidating when necessary.
Reaching the door to the kitchens, he stopped and turned toward River. "I won't hurt her."
River frowned. "Of course not. But she's just been ripped from everything she knows and is pretty damn vulnerable."
He nodded. Determined that was enough of an answer, he walked into the kitchen.
It didn't even take a second to find her. She was frowning down at the range, watching as a kitchen maid explained how to stoke the coals and adjust the heat.
Awake, the female looked less young. Her unbound hair stopped just past her shoulders, and while unusual to see a female without her hair pulled up, it seemed to suit her.
Although as his gaze traveled her body, what he didn't like was how she wore trousers, displaying her shapely arse and legs to the world.
Taking off his jacket, he strode over and placed it on her shoulders. Since he was so much taller, it at least covered her arse, if not all of her legs.
Her eyes met his—a deep brown that was almost black—and his instinct clamored to toss her over his shoulder and cart her away.
To tease her slowly, make her beg for his prick, until he could bite her neck and thrust his cock into her cunt.
Yesenia spoke and broke through his fantasy. "Stone, it's like a million degrees in front of the stove. She doesn't need your jacket. Take it back."
He grunted but kept this gaze on his fated female. "Trousers are indecent."
She blinked up at him. "What are you talking about?"
Her accent was similar to the Vales, although a little different. A far cry from London, that was for sure. "Females shouldn't wear trousers. It may give males ideas."
She raised a black eyebrow. "No, males just need to restrain themselves and keep it in their pants. That's not my job."
Yesenia tried to interrupt. "Stone—"
But he kept going, being chattier than he had been for months, if not years. "No matter what you think, they will still act. Walk around like that outside, and you'll draw every predatory male or female right to you. Wear a skirt. It's safer."
She pushed off the jacket and pressed it to his chest. He should be mad at her actions, but even through the layers of fabric between them, her touch heated his skin in a way no female had before.
His cock definitely took notice and the image of her hands pinned over her head as he claimed her flashed into his mind.
Get some bloody control.As he pushed aside the images, he scowled at the female. If she was affected, he couldn't tell—her cheeks were already flushed from tending to the range, her heart had already been racing when he'd entered, and there were too many scents in the kitchen to tell if she were aroused or not.
His instinct didn't like that one fucking bit.
When she replied, her tone was brisk. "Right now, I'm hungry, and tired, and cranky. Once I eat something, then we can talk about your caveman tendencies. But for now? Get out of the way so I can cook some food."
She turned away from him and he growled. "It's my job to protect you. I'm Stone Riley, and you're my fated bride."
The female didn't turn around and merely waved a hand in dismissal. "Food first and then I'll deal with you."
His jaw dropped a little and then he remembered others were watching, and he promptly closed it. "Then I'm not letting you out of my sight until you change into some proper clothes."
That came out a bit huskier than he intended, probably because he couldn't stop staring at her arse. Wondering how her softness would feel against his hardness, if she liked to feel his hand caress and slap her bum, or if she even liked taking it from behind.
Fuck.What was wrong with him? Stone didn't have constant sex fantasies. If he had a need, he sated it, end of story. But it had never been something to dream about, or even want with everything he had.