Whispering.
It was a twittering of irritation.
Some loud enough for him to hear.
Others merely âpst pst pst.â
Such an irritating sound.
Jaxson squared his shoulders as he strode through the town, heâd been home, seen his family. Heâd laughed with his sister, heâd lied to his parents about whether heâd found his mate. He was lucky they hadnât asked about the stupid rumours.
Heâd loved spending the downtime with those he loved, but now it was time to get back to work, back to training with his friends. Previously, before his opportunity to Guard the Royal Prince, heâd been a town guard, someone to keep the peace. While he enjoyed that job, he was excited to know what his new duties were⦠well⦠thatâs if he still had his promotion. He hoped the minor mess up of the Prince running away didnât hinder his career.
âMate.â
Jaxson rolled his eyes. He was focusing on work, his personal life wasnât even on his radar⦠that was what he was telling himself anyway. His gut twisted every time he thought of the words heâd told Chris⦠the lies heâd spouted.
Yes, he was concerned to be thrust into the Royal Family. But that wasnât a reason to toss aside a mateship he still told himself he didnât want.
âHave you heard what happened?â words met his ears, he tried to ignore them, he really did.
âPst pst pst.â
âI feel sorry for him, donât you?â
âLook at him, heartbroken fool.â
His hackles rose.
âHow could he be tricked?â
Jaxson kept going, trying to ignore the hushed whispers that were being less discrete. Of course, the rumours had reached the Royal Packland⦠what rumour didnât? Some believed it was Tillie⦠it seemed many had heard more of the truth, however.
He wished he knew who had spread the information.
âYou heard he paraded himself? Sex with anyone that would have him!â
âOur Prince wouldnât do that.â
âOh donât be so sure!â
He clenched his jaw hard, it seemed the whole town was talking.
âSo is it a true mating?â
âOf course not, Sue! Males donât get with males!â
âThen how did he trick him, Sandra?â
âGoddess knows what the Royals can do!â
Jaxson let out a low growl, desperately trying to ignore the voices, the words that were twisting his soul. He understood how Chris had felt while he went through packs, there were always whispers, always twitterings of thoughts. He steamed ahead, picking up pace until he skirted the palace, needing to get to the training ground, the quicker he got there, the quicker heâd be away from the gossiping fools.
This was what he was protecting Chris from⦠protecting himself from. Without fuel these talks would trickle and disappear⦠but if they accepted? It would always be the same. Wherever they went theyâd be hushed laughter, whispering behind hands, looks of pity or disgust. Probably disgust.
While sure, he knew he hated the attention, he knew Chris hated it more. Heâd seen it, seen the looks, the hesitancy to do anything. Heâd felt it⦠he wasnât sure how⦠but he felt the uncertainty, the fear, the nausea. He couldnât do that to Chris, no matter his own feelings, his own wants.
Heâd sacrifice it all for him.
He breathed a sigh of relief as his feet stepped onto mowed grass. The familiarity of his homeland, the familiarity of where he felt best. It was one of three training grounds around the palace, but this was his favourite. Weights, sparring areas, punchbags, everything needed to keep you on top form. He was a happy pup when he was here.
Making his way over, he noticed many were looking his way, but he ignored it. This was his playground, and a playground had no place for him to worry about what others were thinking. He headed straight over to the tree trunks, not even thinking about it as he lifted one above his head. His muscles burnt, he hadnât trained properly in nearly two months, but oh did it feel good.
âGlad to see you back!â a familiar voice shouted as he deadlifted the tree for the fifth time.
âHey Craig,â he grunted through exertion.
âSurprised youâd show your face in all honesty,â the tone Jaxson had mistaken as friendliness became evident it was anything but. He scowled ahead, keeping the exorbitant weight above his head for five seconds before dropping it to the ground.
âWhyâs that?â He lifted again. The more he hurt the less the words would⦠right?
âOh, you know, you were charged with looking after a whore.â
He swallowed hard, his wolf growled, his arms shook with the tree above his head. ââScuse me?â
âWe all know. What did he say to you? That you just couldnât feel the bond like he could?â
âGot your tail crossed.â He dropped the tree with a boom, moving away to one of the more solid punching bags.
âWho knew the quiet little Prince would be hiding a shagging machine! How many times he get into your pants, eh?â the goading voice followed him, he was asking to be sucker-punched⦠instead, he slammed the leather.
âNone,â he snapped, laying into the bag. Sweat streamed down his face, his biceps. His shirt began sticking to him.
âOne punch, two punch, three punchâ¦â he counted, controlling the lava of anger sizzling in his veins.
âSo⦠he said he was your mate then fucked everyone but you?â
âYouâre talking shit.â
âPunch, punch, kick. Punch, punch, kick. Just keep punching, just keep punching.â
âLittle whiny pathetic whore, surprised the Crown donât kick him out, whatâs he done since being Blackwoodâs plaything? Bet he loved that. Heâs pathetic.â
Jaxson turned, his fist landing on Craigâs cheek with the ferocity heâd been smashing the bag. Craig stumbled back but before he could regain his footing, Jaxson crashed his foot into his kidney, using the momentum to jam his heel, breaking a few ribs.
Craig landed heavily and Jaxson was on top of him in seconds, landing blow after blow, he wasnât thinking, his mind had fogged with a thick red cloud of rage so strong it was primal. Blood painted the grass, his hands, Craigâs face. An artwork of violence turned the world crimson.
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