Nick arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
“We designed the landscape near the lodge to best appeal to our wolves and at night, the grounds are as spectacular as any palace garden. Better than some, I’d wager. We generally end a group’s first night with a jaunt outdoors.” Arit’s dad pointed at an alcove of cubbies beneath the massive staircase, a convenience for guests to store their clothing rather than returning to their rooms to disrobe when the urge to shift called to them. “If you’d prefer not to shift, the views are still lovely, of course, but you can leave your things in there if you’d care to try.”
“Tempting.” Nick biting his lip stirred Arit’s arousal anew. “Several reporters followed us into the Urals, though. You barred them from the resort, but they’ll take rooms at hotels in the valley. I won’t bet against their long-distance lenses. The promised payment for pictures of me in my wolf form have reached the hundreds of thousands.”
When Arit snorted, Dad glared at him. “Shifter Frontiers offers complete privacy.” Dad lifted a palm. “I won’t say the media won’t get pictures. The mountains are too extensive to police every vantage point, but this land is also rugged and difficult to navigate without a guide.”
Arit nodded. “No one in town will help foreigners.”
Benjic scowled into his bowl of stew. “We didn’t allow the human media across the border. These are all tribe reporters—not foreigners.”
“Anyone born outside the Urals is a foreigner, and as a big contributor to the local economy, Shifter Frontiers is a highly valued business. Most locals will protect our interests and the interests of our customers against intrusion from strangers.” Irritation flared inside Arit as he stared at his sire. “Even some who were born here lose their local shine and will find scant support here now.”
His dad growled Arit’s name in exasperated warning.
“No, leave him alone. I deserve his contempt and worse.” Sighing, Benjic set his food aside. He focused on the crown prince. “What’s important is reporters will need a few days to find a local greedy enough for coin to lead them to prime photography spots. Shifting tonight should be relatively safe, Your Highness.”
A red haze clouded Arit’s vision at his sire’s continued and flagrant disrespect of his mate’s wishes. “His name is Nick.” He squared his shoulders, ruthlessly beating down the urge to shift and teach his sire a thing or two about the deference due a crown prince. “He wants to be called Nick.”
Nick already shrugged off his fancy vest. Setting it aside, his hands moved to the hem of his tunic. “He’s had weeks in the capitol to ingrain formal address into habit. You won’t break him of it no matter how ferocious your scowl,” he said to Arit. He stripped the shirt over his head, revealing a breathtaking expanse of fair skin typical of the imperial family, lightly sprinkled with soft blond hair.
Arit’s heart stopped. Just stopped.
“I accept pictures are inevitable unless I choose not to shift at all, which is a sacrifice I won’t make now that we’re away from the cities. Exploring the outer territories again is a temptation I can’t resist.” Nick neatly folded his tunic and his vest. He dipped his head to remove the diadem, but the cursed locket that drew Arit’s attention to the alluring hollow of his throat, he left in place. He discarded the priceless diadem atop his clothing. The mass-produced locket, a gold-plated trinket, he patted as though to reassure himself he retained possession of the cheap jewelry. “I prefer to make getting pictures as difficult as possible, though.”
“With the moon hidden behind storm clouds, pictures taken at night will be effectively useless, especially shots from long distances. Our tour photographer is working with a crew at our upper camp at the moment, but she assured us photo editing software doesn’t improve pictures under these conditions by much.” Arit’s dad smiled. “Client privacy is important to Shifter Frontiers.”
“Fortunately, our wolves are nocturnal,” Benjic said. “You need only limit attempts at shifting to the night hours if showing your wolf to the tribes still troubles you.”
Nick’s adopted brother snickered. “Attempts,” he echoed, tone ripe with disgust.
“Rolan, stop.” When the crown prince pushed to his feet, Arit also stood. The roar of his pulse filled his ears as Nick toed out of his absurd boots. “They’ll see for themselves in minutes.”
The prince’s brother kicked off his shoes, too. “Can’t wait.”
“If you wouldn’t mind company for a short walk, I’d love to join you,” Arit’s dad told Lydia. He offered her a hand to help her from the floor. “We keep a small inventory of cloaks more suitable for the weather than any available in the cities for the ski season. Human or tribe, you’ll be cozy despite the snow and wind for a while. Views of storms rolling into the valley are often breathtaking.”
The woman smiled at Arit’s dad and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I’d appreciate that.”
Efficient as always, staff moved into place to collect discarded clothing to store in the cubbies under the stairs as well as retrieve dinner cutlery and bowls to return to the kitchen for washing. With his operation working like a well-oiled machine, Arit jerked his own shirt off and shimmied out of the loose pants he’d worn to the train station to greet their guests. Benjic stripped, too. “Security?” he asked one of his employees.
“Several in the group left to check the grounds when they arrived,” the shifter replied in a low murmur. “The kitchen is keeping stew warm for personnel patrolling the property.”
Focusing on the business helped Arit ignore Nick, who had disrobed alongside everyone else save Lydia and Arit’s dad. Arit wouldn’t glance at Nick’s groin nor his ass. Wouldn’t give Benjic the satisfaction of more evidence of his keen interest than Arit’s hard jutting dick. He was an adult. He could control his body’s responses. He gritted his teeth through the flush of warmth pumping through him and concentrated on his job. “Ensure heated blankets are ready when we’ve finished our run. We won’t be long, probably half an hour in this weather. An hour, tops.”
The lodge employee nodded. “Evacy has afghans and throws warming.”
“Heated blankets.” Rolan arched an eyebrow at Nick. “Ain’t that precious.”
“I am their crown prince.” Nick grinned. “If not for the rebellion, I would’ve ultimately mated into this tribe to become a prince of the Urals, no less.”
Benjic grunted. “Still might.”
“Don’t count on it, pal.” Rolan clapped his hands in eager anticipation. “I’ll have to get used to the coddling instead of freezing my ass off when I shift back to my human form. You ready?”