The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 101

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Chapter 101 The First Move

Kael

+25 Points

The party was a blur of velvet, gold, and wine. People everywhere. Power and polish. Thoren and Nevara did everything right–down to the florals, the lighting, even the blasted harpist near the back. It was a perfect evening.

So why the hell did it feel like the air shifted the moment he walked in?

Tall. Built like sin. Dark auburn hair swept back, rich brown skin kissed by a sun I hadn’t seen in weeks. He wore a black shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off a defined collarbone and the start of a chest that

belonged in dreams. His pants fit too well. Way too well, putting his goods on full display. His arms? One flex away from splitting the seams. And that mouth? Fuck me. Full, curved, dangerous.

And then–he turned.

Our eyes locked.

I forgot how to breathe.

A jolt ran through me–electric and primal. It wasn’t just attraction. It was some raw, animal pull. Like I was

made of metal and he was the storm calling me home.

I looked away first.

Coward.

But later… it happened again. Across the ballroom, over the rim of a wine glass, I caught him watching me. Head tilted, lip quirked. As if he knew. As if he was daring me.

Was he… flirting?

Or was I just so pathetically starved that I was reading into nothing?

I didn’t usually hesitate. I didn’t blush. I didn’t wonder.

But this man?

He made my pulse stumble.

Before I could chicken out again, I crossed the ballroom like I wasn’t planning every step. He saw me coming–and smiled.

“You know,” he said, voice rough velvet, “I was beginning to think I’d have to make the first move.”

I blinked. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

He smirked, extending a hand that made mine feel small. “Yeah. I’m kinda new in town.”

His grip was strong. Warm. Too warm.

< Chapter 101 – The First Move

“I’m Reddick.”

I opened my mouth and–blank.

Shit.

“I’m… I’m, um-”

“Forgot your name?” he teased, brows lifting.

“Kael,” I blurted, probably louder than necessary. “Sorry. I don’t know why-”

“It’s alright.” That grin was lethal. “I’m lucky I’m not stuttering myself.”

He held my hand just a beat too long.

And I let him.

“Fancy a drink?” He asked while automatically walking toward the bar and I followed.

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Reddick ordered us whiskey–two fingers neat–and handed me mine like it was the most natural thing in

the world for us to be standing together like this. Shoulder to shoulder. Two men drinking like old friends…

or something far more combustible.

“So,” he said, clinking his glass to mine. “Kael. That short for anything?”

“Just Kael.”

He took a sip and gave a slow nod, as if trying the name out on his tongue. “Solid. Sharp. I like it.”

“Me? It’s just Reddick,” he said. “Some people call me Red…”

He leaned in slightly.

“… There’s been the occasional moment–just one or two–when someone called me Dick.”

He said it low. Sultry. That slow, duck sound that made me want to drop my drink.

I choked on my whiskey.

He grinned, watching me unravel. “Mostly, though, just Reddick.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, heat crawling up my neck.

“What?” he asked, taking a long sip. “You strike me as the kind of guy who likes a little honesty.”

“And you strike me as a walking HR violation.”

He winked. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t work here.”

The man had presence. Not just the kind you’re born with–but the kind you sharpen until it cuts clean through a room. I followed him without realizing, weaving through clusters of guests until we were near the side gallery.

“You ever actually look at these?” he asked, gesturing to the towering wall tapestries with his glass.

Chapter 101–The First Move

People always walk past them like they’re just decoration.”

I shrugged, intrigued despite myself. “They’re old. Pretty. Historical, I guess?”

He gave me a look like he was about to teach me something I wouldn’t forget.

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“That one’s from the Uprising of 7E82,” he said, pointing to a sweeping battle scene. “Painted first, then woven by hand over nine years. Took three seamstresses and one blind monk to finish it.”

“A blind monk?”

“Mm.” He sipped again. “He was the only one who’d survived the original battle. Said it was better if he couldn’t see the blood again, just feel the thread and let the memory guide his hands.”

I stared at the tapestry–at the clash of armies, the flags, the flames–and suddenly it felt alive.

“You’re not just ‘new in town,’ are you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Who are you, really?”

He turned, slow and deliberate, and smiled like he already owned the answer. “Just a man who pays

attention.”

As if he needed anything else to make him irresistible–those arms, that jaw, that body–but damn. The man knew things. Real things. He could command a room with his presence and then seduce your mind with history.

His intelligence was a blade–sharp and shining–and I was already halfway cut.

“What?” he asked, catching the look on my face.

“You’re dangerous.”

“I hope so.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “Otherwise this would be boring.”

At that I downed my drink in one swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.

He took my empty glass with a wicked smile, fingers brushing mine like he meant to memorize the feel of

my skin.

“I’ll get you another,” he murmured.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I said, though it sounded like a plea, not a protest.

“Oh, come on,” he said, eyes gleaming. “It’s a party, Kael. What’s the worst that could happen?”

With that, he vanished into the crowd.

I exhaled hard, dragging a hand through my hair.

What the hell was happening to me?

I’d met flirts before. I’d danced with smooth talkers and tangled with charming assholes who knew exactly how to get under your skin. But Reddick? He was a damn spell. One I wasn’t sure I wanted broken.

I turned back toward the tapestries, pretending I wasn’t searching the room for him with every heartbeat.

<Chapter 101 – The First Move

My pulse still hadn’t settled.

And then-

“Miss me?”

His voice was low. Right behind me.

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I startled, but only slightly. His hand was on my lower back, warm and bold, his chest brushing the back of my arm as he reached around to offer the fresh drink. The heat of him seared straight through my jacket.

“Easy,” he said, lips close to my ear. “I don’t bite.”

“Not without permission,” I said, trying for smug, but it came out breathless.

He laughed softly. “Damn. You are fun.”

I turned to face him and regretted it instantly–because it put us inches apart. Too close. Not close

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