Chapter Text
Princess: is knotting real? 2:38 PM
Harwin: I'm a werewolf, princess, not a character from a fairytale. 2:39 PM 
Princess: so is it? 2:39 PM
Harwin: It doesn't work the way you're thinking. 2:39 PM
Princess: sooo…would you pop a knot if you drank a bottle of wolfsblood? 2:39 PM
Harwin: Maybe, but it wouldn't be the real thing. 2:41 PM
Reactions: 😔
Harwin's face heats at the princess' crass language. He's a single alpha werewolf in his thirties that grew up in a big pack out in the riverlands—of course he knows about knotting. He's heard the folklore, knows that when an alpha shifter is lucky enough to find their fated partner, 'the rare mating bond is sealed with a bite that doesn't change and a knot that ties forever.'
It's just—that shit she's asking about doesn't produce a real knot.
Wolfsblood is a perversion of the real thing. Sure, the elixir makes a guy's length swell up at the base when he blows his load, but the result is a synthetic knot and a superficial connection. It's not a true facsimile of the mating bond. No potion could ever recreate the visceral intimacy found when one soul has been split between two bodies carved from sinew, flesh, and bone by the Mother's own hand. The effects of wolfsblood are as believable as those trashy romances they sell at the market—the ones with half-naked shifters on the cover; big, hairy men sinking their fangs into the neck of their 'mate' in a mockery of the oldest werewolf legend.
And despite the name, the little red elixir isn't even wolf-made. It was developed by some coven up north that makes a killing off of selling it to kinksters throughout the realm.
Besides, although she's asking about it, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen doesn't have a dick, unless you count the collection of silicone cocks in her studio. She doesn't even have a filming partner on her OnlyFans…which means she's just fucking with him.
An urge to turn the key in his truck's ignition and high-tail it back to King's Landing to call the princess out on her bratty behavior flashes through Harwin, but is quickly extinguished by the slam of a door.
"Uncle Harwin!" Cora cries, racing down the steps of the pack house and through the autumn leaves to get to him. "Uncle Harwin, you're home!"
Harwin shoves his phone into his pocket and climbs out of the truck, easily catching his niece in a hug. "I am," he growls, flashing his wolf-eyes at her. "I've come to re-claim the land, and eat my alpha and her spawn!" He lifts her up, snapping playfully towards her ear with his sharpened canines, then spins her around in a circle.
Cora giggles, trying to kick free of his arms. "You would never," she insists, flashing her own eyes back at him in greeting. They'll be red one day, like his—like her mother's—but for now, they glow beta bronze.
"You're right, little wolf. I would never." Harwin retracts his fangs, planting a kiss atop her chestnut hair. He then allows her to scent his cheek before cupping his palm over her neck and doing the same. She rumbles happily and Harwin feels his chest loosen as he hoists her up onto his back. "Have you been taking care of the pack while I've been away?" He slams the truck door shut, grabs his weekender bag from the bed, and carries it, along with Cora, back towards the house.
"Yes," she says seriously. "I'm learning all about pack bonds."
"Are you?" Harwin asks. "What're you learning?"
"It's important for wolves to stay near their pack," Cora answers primly, sounding exactly like her mother, Harwin's twin sister, did as a kid. "A wolf's anchor to humanity is their pack. Without acceptance of, and proximity to, that anchor, a shifter risks losing control and becoming feral, which puts our entire species in peril for the continued peaceful coexistence with humans."
"Why's that?"
"A feral shifter is at the mercy of their primal instincts, and often responds only to atavistic desires to hunt, mate, and kill," Cora finishes.
"Very good," Harwin praises, climbing the staircase. "You're going to make a strong alpha one day."
"Thank you," Cora says, her voice losing the formal edge. "Uncle Harwin, why are you always going away between moons? Don't you need us to anchor you?" Her voice gets smaller, then. "Don't you miss us?"
"Of course I do," Harwin responds, using a low rumble in his chest to soothe her. "But my job is in King's Landing."
"Your Uncle Harwin isn't tied to the land like we are," his twin, Gwenys, adds as she joins them on the porch. She tosses her long, dark hair over her shoulder and holds her arms out for Cora. "He's an alpha, too."
Cora frowns as she moves from Harwin's back to her mother's hip. "But you're his alpha."
Gwenys nuzzles the side of Cora's face. "In name only," she explains, flashing Harwin a smile. "I can't make him behave if he's a brat."
Cora giggles. "Uncle Harwin isn't a brat."
"He just spends his days guarding one," Gwenys says wryly, accepting the kiss Harwin presses to her cheek.
"She's not a brat," Harwin grouses.
Gwenys glances down at his chest, where his heartbeat is stuttering with the lie, and raises her eyebrow in challenge.
"Alright, maybe she's a little bratty," Harwin confesses. "But she's a princess, it's to be expected."
"Right," Gwenys chuckles in disbelief.
A vehicle turns down the driveway then, saving Harwin from the conversation. Their own uncle, Simon, waves from behind the windshield of his car as he parks it next to Harwin's red truck. His human wife, Jayne, is in the passenger seat holding what appears to be a pie dish.
But when Simon opens his door, Harwin's nose isn't met with the warm spice of a sugary pumpkin pie. Instead, it's overwhelmed by an artificial resinous musk so intense, it's like his uncle bathed in a bottle of cologne. There's a faint ribbon of something juicy blended in—but the second Simon steps out of his truck, it's all overpowered by the potent stench of another wolf's seed.
Harwin cringes. "He did it again," he mutters under his breath, referring to how their uncle used chemicals to cover up that he spent the morning rolling around in the sheets with his new wife. "Does he think that makes it better?"
Cora starts gagging next.
"He's being polite," Gwenys chastises them both before setting her daughter down, allowing the little wolf to flee.
"He reeks," Larys grunts, using his walking cane to join them. "Smells like that elixir, wolfsblood, too."
Harwin gives his brother a half-hug. "Yeah," he agrees. "You think Alys got it for Jayne?"
Larys snorts. "Yeah, obviously. Alys would've known where to find it."
Alys, their half-sister and a witch, inherited her power from her mother. Didn't inherit a single shifter gene from their father. Still comes around on full moons, though. Offers up potions and elixirs like they're party drugs. Brings charmed toys for the cubs and shit like that.
"Is that the juicy-" Gwenys stops short, holding up her hands. "You know what? Don't answer that. I don't want to know anything about the kinky sex games our uncle gets up to."
"At least he's happy," Harwin tries.
"You're right," Gwenys decides, clapping Harwin on the shoulder. "You could be, too, if you worked less."
"Harwin is happy," Larys says, grinning. "He gets to follow the princess around like a dog all month when he's not with us. What more could an eternal bachelor want with his life?"
Harwin bares his fangs at Larys in a half-threat.
"Is Harwin finally dating?" Simon asks, joining them. Up close, his odor is so strong that all three siblings' eyes practically bulge out of their skulls, even as they fall back on their manners and politely pretend not to notice. "Where's the lucky girl?"
Harwin groans, considering the merits of strangling himself…it's gonna be one of those full moons.
Princess: cut or uncut? 6:19 PM
Harwin: Seven hells, Rhaenyra. 6:20 PM
Princess: u don't have to answer!!! 6:20 PM
Harwin: You have dozens of toys modeled on shifters that can answer that for you. 6:21 PM
Princess: what if my dildos aren't accurate? 👉 👈 6:21 PM
Harwin: Uncut. 6:24 PM
Princess: is that because you healed over or because your family isn't religious??? 6:24 PM
Harwin: Wolves have actual gods, Rhaenyra. We worship the Mother, just in a different form. She's the moon, her disciples the stars. It's through her grace that we were given power to shift and walk among men. 6:25 PM
Harwin: There is no god of dick. 6:26 PM
Reactions: 🧘♀️
Princess: LMFAO 6:26 PM
Princess: you're funny when you want to be. 6:26 PM
Harwin: Ha. 6:27 PM
Princess: okay but i do actually want to know…is it cultural or a wolfy healing thing? 6:27 PM
Harwin: Both. 6:30 PM
Princess: wdym? 6:31 PM
Harwin: Unless it was done by the claw of an alpha, the foreskin would more than likely grow back. Most packs don't bother. 6:33 PM
Princess: Is that why you have scars? Injury from an alpha? 6:33 PM
Harwin: Yes. 6:34 PM
Harwin puts his phone down and accepts the wolfsbane beer that his brother passes him. They're all gathered around the fire outside to watch the moonrise. Once it's up high overhead, they'll shed their clothes and shift to go for a run alongside the river—but Larys will stay back with Jayne and watch the human kids. Larys hasn't been able to run on his crippled leg since, well, the incident.
"I miss it," Larys says, taking the chair beside Harwin's, reading Harwin's expression. "But I'm used to it. You don't have to pity me, Harwin."
"It's not fair," Harwin murmurs. He still has scars across his face and arms from the unanchored alpha that attacked them as kids, but Larys' leg never healed all the way.
Larys shrugs. "Life isn't fair." He nods towards their sister, standing by the grill. "Look at Gwenys. She's stuck here while you're free to roam between full moons."
Harwin isn't tied to the land like Gwenys is, only needs to return once a month to resolidify his connection to the pack, his anchor.
"How's work?" Larys asks, then, changing the subject.
Harwin lets the topic drop. "It's fine."
Larys tilts his head. "You tell the princess you want to fuck her yet?"
"Say that again," Harwin roars, leaping from his chair so quickly that it falls back with a crash. He bares his fangs, flashing his red wolf-eyes at Larys, nearly forcing the beta into submission, despite not being his brother's alpha.
Larys freezes with his beer halfway to his lips.
"What's going on?" Alys cuts in, appearing out of nowhere and slipping between their bodies. "That was uncalled for," she says to both of them, digging her sharp acrylic-tipped fingers into Harwin's meaty pec in warning.
He glances down, inhaling deeply to recenter himself, and nearly laughs. Alys' nails are almost identical to how Rhaenyra's look, with weirwood leaves adorning her tips. The princess insisted on getting a similar autumnal design a few days ago, when her manicurist paid a visit to the Red Keep.
It must be some sort of trend.
A wave of guilt washes over Harwin, then, at his reaction to the Larys' teasing. Alys is right. It was uncalled for.
And dangerous.
"Sorry," Harwin mutters, shoving a hand through his hair. "I don't know what came over me."
"Having control issues?" Larys prods. "It wouldn't be unreasonable. You should tell the princess you want to fuck her. She'd probably say yes."
Harwin snarls, vision going red again, and Alys snaps her fingers, tying Larys' tongue.
"Do you have a death wish?" Alys barks, sounding even more intimidating than an alpha. "Knock it off or I'll get Gwenys." Then, she turns to Harwin. "You, come help me."
Harwin follows Alys dutifully towards her big chest of potions. She talks about the stuff she brought: wolfsblood-laced beer, a package of apple pie flavored scent-enhancer gummies, and a bunch of other shit to spice up the bedroom—things that have Gwenys flashing her eyes and demanding that Alys take them away from the kids. Harwin knows his half-sister is just providing him with a distraction, so he takes it, even though he's still sulking about Larys' shitty comments. He tunes Alys out as he lugs her chest around, considering his brother's words.
Larys was being a dick, but he isn't exactly wrong.
Part of the reason King Viserys allowed Rhaenyra to continue streaming with her real name and face last year was because she agreed to do it under her most loyal, protective bodyguard's supervision.
In the beginning, Harwin's attraction to the princess was manageable. He's always known she's off limits and out of his league. What would a princess want with a bodyguard? And a wolf, at that, when she's completely, totally human.
But sometime around the beginning of autumn, Rhaenyra learned that her fanbase is ninety percent shifters and responded accordingly.
That's when Harwin began to have control issues.
His wolf perked up big time and started pushing for control, thinking that Rhaenyra had been flirting with him, and it hasn't looked away since. But Harwin is a logical man. He knows that Rhaenyra's subtle behavioral changes are because of her job, not because she's interested in the shifter that keeps her safe. And despite what his more primal instincts want him to believe, Rhaenyra's questions are also innocent. She's learning more about her fanbase from the shifter she trusts most. It's all professional, even if her profession is sex work.
Besides, Harwin is not at the mercy of his wolf, and doesn't plan on allowing that to change. It's why he's back home for the full moon, when his primal instincts are the strongest—to re-anchor himself.
He may be having some impulse issues, but he can handle it.
He's fine.
Princess: can you turn into an actual wolf? 9:19 PM
Harwin: No. 9:19 PM
Princess: so just the fangs, claws, glowing red eyes, and all that hair? 9:19 PM
Princess: and the growly face? 9:20 PM
Harwin: Funny. 9:21 PM
Princess: :) 9:21 PM
Princess: okay, but you know what i'm asking!!! 9:24 PM
Harwin: Our senses are enhanced, too. The world is louder, colors brighter. Scents are stronger. I'm physically a lot more powerful. It's helpful when I need to protect you, even if I look 'all growly.' 9:25 PM
Princess: so if you fucked someone like that, would you knot them? 9:25 PM
Harwin: Rhaenyra. 9:26 PM
Princess: stop rolling your eyes at me! i know you're doing it, but this is a genuine question! 9:26 PM
Harwin: No, I would not. 9:27 PM
Princess: are you upset :( :( you said you didn't mind if i asked questions… 9:28 PM
Harwin: I don't mind. 9:29 PM
Harwin: I'm not upset. 9:35 PM
Princess: if you say so… 9:35 PM
Harwin: I'm not. We're about to run, though. Sleep well, princess. 9:36 PM
Harwin has been racing along the Gods Eye for full moons since he was a pup, but after tonight's run? It's like he's done a marathon. He stumbles into the house, grabs the first thing he sees from the fridge, and chugs it in one go to rehydrate.
He considers joining the puppy pile going on in the great room, but knows that if he lays down, he won't get back up until lunchtime—and he's not in his twenties anymore. His back deserves better, so he wishes everyone a good rest and then heads up to his own room, exhausted.
He's not usually so tired after a moonlit run, but he's had a pretty rough month of battling his control. He's glad that things will be better after this and that he can return to the princess, completely in command of himself.
Harwin wouldn't dare admit it out loud, but he misses her when he's away. It's a hard thing to deny when the moon is high and his wolf is pacing back and forth across his mind, insisting that he's smelling Rhaenyra's essence, even all the way out here in the riverlands.
By the Mother, he needs sleep.
He pushes Rhaenyra's teasing lilac gaze from his thoughts, and inhales the comforting scent of home; the night sky, the woodsy, earthy musk that defines his pack as a whole—
—and a ribbon of cinnamon and honey, a new aroma whispering through the air.
Harwin grits his teeth, his canines sharpening into fangs, shaking his head even as his mouth waters. He knows the curl of sweet musk isn't actually present.
That's Rhaenyra's scent.
She's not here.
But the thought of the way his princess smells when she's streaming, when she's naked with her back arched and her dusky pink nipples peaked—it forces a groan from between Harwin's lips. His blood moves south, swelling his cock into a half-chub, and he shoves into his room, slamming the door behind him and leaning back against it with a sigh.
Seven hells, Harwin needs to get a grip on himself. The princess does not want to fuck him, no matter what Larys says. He's a werewolf, her bodyguard. She's modern royalty. The two do not go together, hand-in-paw.
But his wolf is insistent.
With the door closed, her phantom fragrance is even stronger than before, making Harwin's bedroom smell like her studio does during a stream. It's almost like Rhaenyra is here in the flesh—and it's stupid, but it's driving him wild.
Feeling foolish, but needing to confirm that he's alone, Harwin flashes his alpha gaze, making his eyes glow in the darkness as he looks around his bedroom for a tiny little princess with hair the color of moonlight. But there's nobody else here, nobody in the attached bathroom, either.
And yet, the deeper he steps into the room, the stronger her essence becomes.
Harwin doesn't mean to, but he follows his nose like he's tied to a string. He winds up on his knees, digging furiously through his weekender bag, tossing shit everywhere in his haste to find the source. And he does: a scrap of red lace twisted up into a knot.
Harwin's claws push out over his nailbeds and he growls, tearing the delicate fabric in his haste to untwist them.
"Fuck," he hisses, "fuck." He can smell her heady, captivating scent. It's so strong he can practically taste it. In fact, he parts his lips without even thinking about it, brushing his tongue along the wet gusset—moaning as her flavor explodes across his tastebuds in a cacophony of pleasure. It rolls through him with more power than an orgasm; cinnamon, honey, vanilla bourbon, and sex.
Pure fucking sex.
The musky, salty taste of a woman's cunt is everywhere. On his tongue, on his lips, clouding his mind. Harwin doubles over, groaning into the panties as he laps at them without hesitation, sucking a little, too, trying to get at every crevice in the lace. He wants to drown himself in the taste and the smell—gods, the smell. The werewolf closes his eyes, pulling the used panties from his mouth to shove them up against his nose. Harwin inhales deeply before he starts licking at the damp fabric again; surrounding himself entirely in the pure taste and scent of the girl he spends his days guarding and his nights staving off dreams about.
His cock is hard, and it throbs almost painfully as his balls pull tight, demanding his attention on a purely carnal level. And after spending an evening shifted, Harwin is weak, but logically, he knows he can't let his wolf win—so he doesn't touch himself.
But fuck, her scent is making him crazy.
Fucking batshit insane.
His wolf is howling, pacing in his mind, demanding that he track her down and fuck her—but she's not here, not in his room, not even in the riverlands, meaning the scrap of red lace will have to do.
It's not a conscious decision, wrapping his fist around his cock, but the next thing he knows, he's doing exactly that—losing to his wolf. He grips himself hard, squeezing the thick length with his calloused hand, groaning when it sends a burst of pleasure rippling through his body, and starts jerking himself dry. He works his shaft hard and fast, moving his foreskin up over the head and back down it, imagining her lips pushing and pulling at the tip of his prick with every slide as he drowns in the princess' arousal.
Harwin has spent months standing guard over the princess as she teased strangers on the internet; letting them choose which bad dragon she would ride, letting them control the buzzing in her vibrators, and even letting them say things that made his hackles rise just off-camera. And despite all of that, Harwin has never lost control—but then again, he's never tasted her before this.
Never shoved his nose this close to her grool.
Wolves are tactile, affected more by their senses than anything else, and here, with her musk on his tongue and his control loose in the palm of the Mother's full moon overhead, Harwin gives in. He sees Rhaenyra laugh as he inhales her sex, hears her giggle as he tastes her cunt. Envisions a lingering fingertip dragged down the long line of her pale neck, paired with the perfect pout, while his girl whispers filth into his ear—playing the maiden while acting the whore.
It's intoxicating.
Like a drug.
He can't bring himself to stop, not when an image of Rhaenyra sinking down onto a thick silicone cock, moaning and whimpering at the size being too much, blows into his mind next. It's the memory of a stream she did just last week, and when Harwin's tongue finds another droplet of her, he shivers with the strength of his want. And at her taste twinning with the memories of her streams, adrenaline courses through his veins, pushing him even closer to his peak.
Desperate hunger overtakes his mind, making even the thought of resistance a vain one. He fists himself harder, using quick, painful pulls along his dry cock, but the hint of pain makes the pleasure curl stronger. Heat pulses through his groin, his entire body vibrating on the edge, and it takes less than a dozen strokes before his balls are jerking up tight, before the spark at the base of his spine is lighting up in warning.
But then his heartbeat drops to his dick, and heat burns in its wake, pulsing hot in the base of his shaft. It's not uncomfortable, but the exact opposite. It's a tease of sublime gratification of which he's never felt—but still, it's disorienting.
Harwin stops sniffing and looks down. What he sees makes his jaw drop. He can't fucking believe it.
It's a godsdamned folktale.
But he can't stop it.
It takes seconds for Harwin to lose his impeccable control to the shift, for his wolf to overtake him, for his head to fall back as he howls in relief, something just this side of nirvana surging through him.
The base of his dick had been expanding slowly, but as he finds release, his knot pops in his fist—swelling rapidly as seed shoots from the tip of his cock, sending ropes of spend across his weekender. He nearly blacks out from the pleasure, a sharp bliss spreading through his body, an electrical current of pure sex and satisfaction pumping through his veins. The tighter he holds the knot, the headier the fervor, so he clamps his fist down on the bulb, squeezing it tight and humping upwards into the grip. He can hardly fucking believe it. This doesn't happen to shifters anymore. It's a myth, a fucking legend—
"Fuck," Harwin growls, realizing what has happened.
Arousal and satisfaction cling to his savage hindbrain, his synapses still firing, his cock still soaking his bag like he's an out-of-control teenager. His wolf wants to call out for her, wants to sink his teeth down into his mate's neck and claim her—but she doesn't exist, not here, not for him.
Humiliation spikes through his joy, hot and devastating.
"Godsdamnit," Harwin grunts, trying to force himself to let go of his knot. This isn't real, even if his wolf believes it so. Rhaenyra isn't his mate. She's not even his girlfriend. This is so fucking wrong of him to be doing right now that he has half a mind to storm back down the stairs, to rip his half-sister's throat out.
Because Harwin feels like a godsdamned idiot.
Of course Alys stocked the top shelf of the fridge, right at his line of sight, with her fucking wolfsblood infusions so the pups couldn't reach it. So now, instead of going to bed like a normal person, Harwin is high on a drug he never wanted nor intended to take while he jerks off to the one girl he's vowed to respect and defend with his life.
Respect, not fantasize about.
Defend, not mate.
Shame washes through him at his actions and the mess.
Harwin grips the base of his dick tight and rises up, heading for the bathroom with the panties still in his fist, pausing every few steps to steady his trembling body, because somehow, he's still coming. It's like he's a fucking cub all over again; a puberty-driven teenager jerking off like a maniac.
Harwin slumps down into the tub with muddy feet and a quivering body, and leans back against the tile as his cock continues to weep. He should toss the lace in his fist aside, but he doesn't. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut, holds the princess' panties against his nose, and inhales deeply all over again as he knots his fucking hand.
His knot should be a wonder.
Instead, it's humiliating.
And if the stupid stories are right, he's going to have to sit here in disgrace, shooting cum into the tub with the aftershocks of his orgasm for the next hour or more.
Worse, everyone is going to know. Even if he showers three times over, his siblings will smell it—will have heard him, too. Gods, Larys is never going to let him live this down.
But the shittiest part?
Harwin is never going to live this down.
The next time he has to stand in the corner and watch Rhaenyra fuck herself on a silicone cock, he's going to be thinking about the taste of her cunt, and about how delicious it felt to pop a knot while lapping at her slick like an animal.
He's so fucked.
Princess: how was the run? 12:07 PM
Harwin: Good. 12:19 PM
Harwin: Thanks for asking. 12:31 PM
Reactions: 💖
Princess: yay! anything new happen? 12:32 PM
Harwin: Nah. Same old, same old. 12:33 PM
Harwin spends all of Sunday stewing in self-misery.
And he can't even be mad at Alys, because he's the idiot that didn't check the label before drinking the first thing he found in the fridge. Thankfully, whatever dosage that was in the beer Harwin drank isn't enough to make him smell as bad as his uncle, so nobody seems to notice.
(Nobody can smell anything other than Simon's fucking cologne, really.)
Thankfully, nobody says anything about his howl, either.
But he can't stop thinking about it, about her. About her soft sighs and her pretty lips, about the way she's constantly asking him questions and demanding his time and attention. About how much he enjoys spending his days with her—and about how disgusted she would be, if she ever found out what he did.
He knows the panties were as much a mistake as the wolfsblood beer. He's constantly carrying shit back and forth from her own quarters to her filming studio, and on Friday before he left town, he had his weekender in the room with them so he could leave right afterwards. She must have dropped them into his bag by mistake.
He should dispose of them, forget this even happened.
(He doesn't.)
Princess: having fun? 6:35 PM
Harwin: Yeah. It's nice being with family. 6:47 PM
Princess: i'm glad :) 6:48 PM
Princess: new q…how do i smell? 6:59 PM
Harwin: It's difficult to explain. 7:05 PM
Reactions: 😔
Princess: can't you try? 7:05 PM
Harwin: Like a human with blood in your veins…but something sweet, too. Spicy, even. I always think of cinnamon and cloves, something warm and vanilla. 7:10 PM
Princess: must be the pumpkin lattes :) 7:10 PM
Harwin: Something like that. 7:12 PM
Princess: when will you be home? 7:20 PM
Harwin: Planning to leave here around four in the morning. Drive is about three and a half hours. You planning on being up early or something? 7:22 PM
Princess: i promise not to sneak out until you're back ;) 7:22 PM
Harwin goes to bed early so he can wake up before dawn.
He does, indeed, wake up well before dawn, rising around two-thirty—with Rhaenyra's panties shoved beneath his nose and his cock in his fist. He groans, throwing the scrap across the room, and wills his erection to subside.
When it doesn't, he takes an ice cold shower and hits the road around three. He flicks on a podcast as he drives back to King's Landing so that he doesn't have to think about his transgressions. He turns up the Borros Baratheon Experience and listens to the host talk with some chad named Criston about the sexual and physical benefits of the latest brand of wolfsbane-infused weed gummies.
He hits 'next' when they start talking about 'that new elixir, wolfsblood,' that has ruined his godsdamned life.
Switches to an audiobook when their voices start to grate him.
Keeps rotating through podcasts and audiobooks until he sees the city skyline in the distance through his windshield so that he doesn't think about the slight girl whose trust he betrayed over the weekend.
(Congratulates himself when he gets back to the Red Keep in once piece.)
Princess: you're an alpha 5:39 AM
Harwin: You're a princess. 5:45 AM
Princess: why do people call you ser sometimes 5:45 AM
Harwin: Pack designation, employment designation. Alpha was my birthright. Ser was a title I earned. 5:46 AM
Princess: which do you prefer 5:46 AM
Harwin: Whichever makes you happier. 5:46 AM
Harwin: Why are you awake? 5:47 AM
Princess: couldn't sleep 5:47 AM
Princess: are you back? 5:47 AM
Princess: find my says you're here 🤨 5:48 AM
Harwin: Yep. Lifting. 5:48 PM
Reactions: 🔥
Princess: do i have to sneak out, or… 5:50 AM
Harwin: You're incorrigable. Hand-delivered? Or would you like to walk? 5:51 AM
Princess: i've been stuck inside all weekend 5:51 AM
Princess:let's walk, pretty please 5:52 AM
Reactions: 👍
"Hello, alpha," Rhaenyra purrs, flinging open the door to her quarters to welcome him in. Her greeting is innocent, he literally just told her she could call him that, and yet her words buzz through his body like static shock. His wolf latches on with a satisfied grumble, as if the elixir is still lingering in his system, and the warm cinnamon of her scent hits him so hard in the face, his knees nearly buckle.
But it's her appearance that makes him desperate for mercy. She's in cream-colored leggings and a crimson lace bra the same color as his contraband, a hue that makes her tits pop and makes her body draw him in like the red flag that she is.
Harwin wants to kill himself.
"Princess," he greets as she wraps her arms around him in a hug. She's tiny beneath him; her head only comes halfway up his chest. He refuses to think about how their enormous size difference makes his wolf rumble happily. "Miss me?"
"Not as much as you missed me," she teases, though she has no idea how true it is. Her tits are squashed against the thin t-shirt stretched across his chest, and warmth is flooding his body at her touch; a sexual response to a platonic hug.
He's in so much trouble.
"You're right," he admits, forcing a grin when she giggles, likely thinking it's a joke.
"You can scent me," she sighs, leaning her head against his chest. "Go on, I know you want to."
He does want to, is the issue. He's only been gone for a couple of days, but she smells more like the mage in her security detail than she does like him. One swipe of his paw…
He shouldn't, knows it isn't strictly necessary, but she offered, and so instinct forces his hand. He cups her neck, rubs his palm down her back once—and then his cock twitches, so he drops his hand away like he's been burned.
There's only one layer of fabric between her soft belly and his twitching dick, and that is a recipe for disaster.
He pulls back before there's a tangible problem between them.
"Ready when you are," Harwin grates out.
"Okay, let me grab a sweater." Rhaenyra turns, sashaying through her room, oblivious to his internal struggle. Her cream-colored leggings hide absolutely nothing, meaning each cheek of her pert ass jiggles with her footsteps, and when she bends over to slip her feet into dark boots that come up to her knees, she gives him a full view of her perfect, round backside.
It makes his mouth water.
Gods, she has no idea what she does to him.
Luckily, the big maroon sweater she tugs on hides her breasts and the bra that matches his loot, giving him one less thing to worry about.
"Pumpkin spice time," Rhaenyra grins. "Let's go!"
—
They're halfway back up the tree-lined path to the Red Keep before she brings it up.
"So," Rhaenyra says carefully, both hands cupped around the warm drink Harwin bought her as they shuffle through the autumn leaves that have fallen around them. "I have something to tell you."
Harwin's heart seizes in his chest. His first thought is that she's somehow found out what happened. But that's stupid. Rhaenyra isn't a werewolf. She wouldn't be able to smell her own musk on his nose a day and three showers later, wouldn't be able to trace his heartbeat in a lie. There's no way she could have figured out that he spent his Saturday night with her panties in his mouth, knotting his fist like something out of a folktale-inspired wet dream.
Still, the guilt lingers as he clears his throat and waits for her to continue.
But Rhaenyra, normally so talkative and free, is silent.
So he prompts her. "What's that?"
Rhaenyra bites down on her pink lip, digging her teeth into it and then stops mid-step. "I don't…well, I think you might be a little upset," she says, quickly. "But it's not a big deal." She laughs and it's a strangled sound that makes Harwin frown.
He stops with her. "Why would I be upset with you, princess?" Were she his girl, he would bend down and press a kiss to her forehead to reassure her. Maybe wrap an arm around her waist, tug her body into his, and stroke his palm down the back of her long, white-blonde hair to soothe her. But she's not his girl, she's his boss, so he does none of those things. He just waits.
"Well, I know how you get when there's a new guard on my protection detail, so like…" Rhaenyra shrugs her shoulders, trailing off. She glances behind them at where three men are standing a few hundred yards away. They're the rest of her security detail. One is a powerful mage with human hearing, but the other two are beta werewolves, the latter of them the replacement for a guy Harwin ripped an arm off of.
"I don't trust anyone until they're proven trustworthy," Harwin clarifies, not caring that the other shifters can hear him. They all know this by now. It's part of protecting her. "That's my job, princess."
Rhaenyra frowns. "Yeah, but like, there are some men that you trust, right?"
Harwin does not have a good feeling about this. "What do you mean?"
Abruptly, Rhaenyra turns and continues walking. "Nothing!" Her voice is shrill and her heartbeat stutters.
"Rhaenyra," Harwin growls, catching up with her easily. "Don't lie to me. What do you mean?"
She glances back at the men, fidgeting. "Can we…talk, privately?"
Harwin's gut roils as he gives the three men the signal to back up out of earshot, and then turns back to the princess. "What's going on?"
"You know how I've had some questions about alphas lately?"
Harwin's gaze flickers over her lilac eyes as she sips her pumpkin spice latte without looking up at him. "Princess, you always have questions about werewolves."
"Yeah, but like…more, lately?" Rhaenyra insists. "Since the results about my audience came in?"
"Sure," he says, appeasing her. "Why are you asking more questions about alphas these days?"
Rhaenyra takes a deep breath, bracing herself, and then says something so fast that Harwin, even with his enhanced hearing, can't understand it. She looks up at him, blinking with wide, too-innocent eyes.
Oh, she's not upset—she just thinks he will be, and it's making her nervous.
Harwin lifts his fingertips to her chin, tucks his knuckle beneath it, and tilts her jaw up so that she will look him in the eye. "Hey," he says gently. "Breathe. There's nothing you could ever say to upset me. What's going on?"
He wants to continue holding her, but Harwin knows his place, so he drops his hand and remains still while she chews on her lip, considering his words.
"Okay, I just…I invited a guest onto my stream," she says carefully. "An alpha."
Harwin's claws push out over his fingernails before he has half a moment to think about it. They puncture the side of his stupid fucking coffee cup, sending a ridiculous concoction of pumpkin spice oatmilk cinnamon bullshit squirting everywhere, including onto her cream-colored leggings. His eyes flash red and his fangs sharpen, and he growls so menacingly that she takes a few steps backwards—which is what snaps him out of it.
Harwin drops the cup and pulls back the shift. "Rhaenyra," he says quickly, "fuck, I'm sorry, I-"
"Everything okay, boss?" Ser Luthor asks, moving forward to speak in a tone Harwin can hear.
Rhaenyra, having noticed his change in position, calls back to Luthor, telling him they're fine. "It's okay, you didn't scare me," she says to Harwin, waving it off like it's nothing—and miraculously, her steady heartbeat indicates that she's telling the truth. "I knew you might not react super well."
Harwin frowns. "No, I should have had better control."
"It's fine, you don't scare me. I know it's because you're an overprotective wolf," Rhaenyra laughs, "and I just told you I'm going to fuck someone on camera."
He would object, but images of someone else fucking his girl flash through his mind. A thousand blurry visions of some other man getting his paws on her, fucking into her body when he's right there in the room with them—
Harwin fights to keep his composure, but it's difficult. The idea is driving his wolf crazy, making him howl and roar and fight with the man for control of the situation, but Harwin forces a collar around the throat of his instincts and clears his throat. "Are you sure about this?"
Rhaenyra nods. "I mean, I thought about it for a long time before I put out a request," she says, scrunching her nose and moving into the space he put between them, not even the least bit afraid of him. "Knots," she clarifies.
"You're going to have him drink wolfsblood?" Harwin asks flatly.
"Gods, no!" Rhaenyra's face blooms pink. She reaches for the hair band around Harwin's wrist and tugs on it, but doesn't remove it, just plays with it as she speaks. It doesn't mean anything, just a nervous tic she has, but he likes that she feels comfortable enough with him to touch his wrist without permission, so he's never commented on it—and he's glad, because in this moment, it calms him a little. Keeps him more grounded than he was moments ago to know she's saying the truth, that he doesn't scare her.
"Not at first," Rhaenyra explains. "It's just, like, a simple blowjob. If that goes well, we'll move on from there."
"To knotting?" Harwin grunts, annoyed.
Rhaenyra shrugs. "Maybe?" She flutters her eyelashes at him. "Just, like, we'll see. Ser Harrold is running a background check. It might not even happen, so you don't need to panic or anything."
Harwin's throat is dry. Painfully dry as he swallows. He doesn't know what to say, really. Has no fucking idea what to say. How can he argue against her decision? He isn't her alpha, isn't her boyfriend, isn't her mate. He's not even her friend, really. He's her subordinate.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Harwin takes a deep breath in, exhaling through his nose, and reminds himself that this is normal for people in her profession. It's a normal, reasonable step to take in her career as a sex worker. "Okay," he finally says. "Alright, yeah. Makes sense."
Rhaenyra opens her mouth to say something else, but Harwin doesn't trust himself to keep his chill, so he shakes his head.
"We should get back," he mutters. "Photoshoot, remember?"
"Right! Maybe you can help me pick out which bodysuit to wear," Rhaenyra says. "You always pick the best lingerie."
Yeah, because he chooses what makes him want for death the most when he imagines other shifters seeing her in it. "Sure."
This girl is going to fucking kill him one day.
(But he's always known that.)
Princess: how can you be so far away from your pack? 10:16 PM
Harwin: My twin sister is an alpha, too. She inherited the land. For some reason, I'm not tied to it the way she is. Being away doesn't make my wolf restless the way it does for other alphas as long as I return once a month to re-establish them as my anchor. 10:17 PM
Princess: you always say stuff like that 10:17 PM
Princess: i don't really understand how it works 10:18 PM
Harwin: Like what? 10:19 PM
Princess: "my wolf" 10:19 PM
Princess: like it's separate 10:19 PM
Princess: is it? 10:20 PM
Harwin: No. It's habit, I suppose. It's how we refer to our instincts when training control into cubs. A way to separate out more primitive ones from the human ones. But the wolf is me. We're not two separate beings sharing the same body. 10:20 PM
Princess: so if your wolf loses control because it smells his mate… 10:20 PM
Harwin: I don't have a mate. I would have found them by now if I did. They're rare, princess. More folklore than reality. A story to tell around the fire. 10:22 PM
Princess: yeah, but hypotheticallyyyyy 10:22 PM
Harwin: Hypothetically, yes. The man and the wolf are the same. What drives one nuts will drive the other nuts, too. 10:23 PM
Harwin: You should get some sleep, princess. Big day tomorrow. 10:23 PM
Princess: xo 10:24 PM
As it turns out, Criston Cole is a piece of shit.
It takes two weeks for everything to go through, but once it does, Harwin immediately despises the fucker. His first strike is that he lied to Rhaenyra about being an alpha. He's a beta in the Cargyll pack, but apparently Ser Harrold still approved him because he has a flawless record otherwise.
His second strike is that he shows up and tries to intimidate Harwin into leaving the set.
"I'm her bodyguard," Harwin growls. "And you're a fucking liar. I'm not leaving you alone with her."
Cole frowns, ignoring Harwin and turning to look at Rhaenyra. "He's not even your alpha, what gives him the right to speak like that?" As he talks, he strips his shirt off, as if his naked chest will somehow convince Rhaenyra to take his side, despite the fact that Harwin is twice his size—clearly superior in physique.
Harwin puffs up his chest to be sure the dickwad knows who he's up against, because he wants to throttle the twink. Not her alpha? How dare he? He snarls, flashing his red eyes at the beta bitch before him, but Rhaenyra's hand on his arm stops him from lunging for Cole's neck and separating the guy's head from his body.
"Stop," she says. "It's fine." Rhaenyra's cheeks are flushed and Harwin can tell that she's on edge, has been smelling the salt of her nerves in the air all morning. He doesn't want to make things worse, though, and apparently, Rhaenyra spent a lot of time choosing Cole out of all of the men who so generously offered to allow her to blow them on a livestream—so he backs down…a little.
Meaning, he doesn't put a fist through Criston's jaw.
That is, until the scent of wolfsblood hits Harwin's nose while Rhaenyra's back is turned.
Harwin sends the guy flying before he thinks twice. "You piece of shit," he roars as he follows up with his fists, slamming them into Cole's face.
By the time Rhaenyra's back-up team is in the room and pulling Harwin off of Criston, the guy's face is nearly unrecognizable.
And Rhaenyra, to his surprise, isn't even mad. She crosses her arms as the mage levitates Criston out of the room, chewing on her perfectly manicured fingernail. When they're alone, she turns to Harwin with a glare.
Okay, maybe she's a little mad.
"He had that knotting elixir," Harwin grunts, wiping the blood off of his knuckles for something to do while Rhaenyra's lilac gaze pierces through his core. "I wasn't going to let him knot your mouth, princess. That's- that's-" Harwin shakes his head.
"You don't know that," Rhaenyra argues. "It could have been sexy. I've seen it happen on streams before and nobody died."
"Don't be a brat," Harwin growls. "Did he approve that with you? Because I was under the impression that it was going to be a simple blowjob, not an act to lock up your throat for the next hour or two."
Rhaenyra throws her hands in the air. "Fine! No, he didn't tell me what he was planning to do. But now what am I supposed to do, Harwin? My fans expect a blowjob. This is a big deal! They've all paid a premium for this stream! We go live in less than fifteen minutes and you just pummeled my godsdamned guest!"
"I suppose you'll have to use one of the other cocks at your disposal." Harwin gestures to the wall of dildos and toys, but Rhaenyra remains silent—
—but then, his bratty little princess grins with determination.
"Oh, no," he says, backing up. "No. That is a very bad idea. It's unprofessional, to start."
"You just beat the shit out of my guest!"
"Reschedule," Harwin argues.
Instead of responding, she turns on her heel and heads towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Harwin asks, following her. "Rhaenyra, what are you doing?"
"You're not the only werewolf I know," she snaps, reaching for the doorknob.
Harwin slams his hand onto the door above her head, forcing it to remain shut. His heart is racing and his mind is going berserk, but there is absolutely no fucking way that he's about to let some other wolf put their paws on his princess.
No. Fucking. Way.
Not after the disaster that just happened. He doesn't trust a single one of the fuckers out in the hallway enough for this. Whoever ends up being her partner on-stream is going to have multiple background checks—and not just from Ser Harrold, this time. In fact, maybe he can drag the process out long enough that nobody else comes anywhere near her.
Ever again.
Sounds reasonable to Harwin.
They're both still panting, and Harwin is still frozen in place, when Rhaenyra finally turns to face him. She puts a hand on his chest and his wolf grumbles happily at her touch as she tilts her jaw up, showing her neck in submission.
"Won't you help me just this once?" Rhaenyra asks quietly. "Please, alpha?"
At that one little word, Harwin crumbles.