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wench said, her gaze devouring his towering strength and powerful physique.
    Vasilis knew what her something else meant, but once again, he was curiously cold inside. No stirrings, no desire, no lust. "Nay. I will call upon you, too," he practically growled, brushing past her.
    He sat at a long table with his guards as ale was brought to them. He wasn't blind to the blatant glances tossed his way from the wenches, but he felt curiously unreceptive to their lustful gazes.
    He marked it up to being too tired. He had had a long journey and his father's contest still grated on his nerves.
    He was a warrior above everything else and he couldn't see himself play the role of loving husband and adoring father. His battle scars ran deep and he knew his heart was no longer the warm, soft organ that filled with unconditional love. Too much had happened to him.
    His gut clenched as he tried burying his old demons trying to resurface. His mother was a gentle woman and Vasilis hadn't been able to save her. The guilt haunted him still. That was why he needed a wife who could defend herself, a warrior woman. His mother hadn't been that kind of woman. She was weak and afraid. When she was bitten on the raid two hundred years ago and turned into a Lycan, she couldn't live with the monster she'd become. A few weeks later, she drove a silver dagger to her heart.
    A flash of anger for his father coursed through his tense body. What his father had done was plague the winner of the Royal Contest to an early death. Any wife of his was doomed.
    His mind went to the Lycans who hid in the mountains. They were a vile pack who came out every full moon to attack villages and turn people to their dark side.
    Alexandra and her prowess with the bow and arrow and her evident combat skills with the four bandits filled his mind and he realised she possessed the most important qualities he seeked in a mate.
    Brusquely, he pushed the thought away. She disturbed the hell out of him, they seemed to argue all the time and she'd shown him nothing but disdain and annoyance.
    Hardly evidence she was his soul mate.

    Chapter 4
    By the time his royal guards finished their second ale, Vasilis didn't know what was worse. That thoughts of Alexandra had soured his mood and turned him off to all the blatant advances of the serving wenches or the increasingly irritating conversation around him from his guards--especially the young one, Roarke--on Alexandra's archery skill.
    Vasilis couldn't get a break. No peace of mind, his frustration and irritation rising. Every time he got some sort of reprieve and started to appreciate the sultry wenches flashing him suggestive looks, one of his men either mentioned the Amazon with a note of awe and regard in their tone, or something in the smoke-filled room reminded him of her. The dark shade of hair on the serving wench who slipped him her room key, the bruise on one of the card player's chin or the tiny waist of the blond wench who kept tossing him seductive glances.
    She was everywhere and Vasilis couldn't take it anymore. She infiltrated his mind with every turn and he was beginning to think he was bewitched.
    "She was remarkable!" Roarke was saying again for the tenth time. Vasilis flashed him an annoyed look. "How could she have felled all those bandits?"
    Malek cast Vasilis a wry look. "Perhaps she is a figment of our imagination and does not exist."
    Vasilis downed his ale and all but banged his empty glass on the table. His friend's pointed comment did not go amiss. He knew Malek was referring to that night when Vasilis told him his perfect woman did not exist. "I will take my leave. I have had enough ale for one evening." He gave his men a dark look. "Stay. I have no wish to stop your entertainment."
    Ortega rose. "I will escort you back, Your Highness."
    "I, too," Krako added. "These parts are not safe."
    Vasilis wondered dryly if it was the parts that were dangerous or Alexandra. He hardly knew her a week and she already had