“Let me accompany you back to your chamber, then I’ll fetch a sweet bread from the kitchens for your stomach.” Crea gently steered Mirella toward one of the paths that curved around the outer wall of the manor, following the right wing.
“Isn’t my husband’s studio over there?” Mirella pointed at the large set of arched windows opening into the gardens. Mechanical workers were busy painting the wall beneath the windows with a new coat of ochre.
Crea must have heard the reluctance in her mistress’s tone because she apologetically shrugged then said, “This way is faster.”
Mirella’s queasiness had increased, and she wanted nothing more than to rest on her bed, so she sighed and followed her lady’s maid.
Chapter Twelve
Twirling the long stem between his fingers, Valentine watched as the crimson red of the Laurum sloshed against the rim of the goblet.
“What are you going to do then?” Gabriel asked.
“I’ll send her away.” Valentine dangled his leg over the armrest of his high-backed chair.
“Is it what you want?”
“It is what’s needed.”
“Will you explain to her why?”
“No. She’s better off alive and hating me.”
“I’m sorry for you, my friend. You deserve better.”
“I deserve nothing.” Valentine swallowed a gulp of wine. “I can’t even curb my wolf long enough to have a conversation with Mirella without assaulting her.”
“That’s called passion between two people who care for each other,” Gabriel said.
“That’s lust, pure and simple.” Valentine snorted. “I can’t trust myself around her, and she will pay the ultimate price for it.”
“What if she’s already with child?”
With a roar, Valentine stood, throwing the goblet to the floor. “She is not.” He couldn’t breathe. What if Gabriel was right? Valentine had refused to consider the possibility every time it had crossed his mind in the last few days. “She can’t be. I don’t want her to be.” He passed a hand over his shaved head. “I haven’t spilled my Vital Essence in days and I have no intentions to visit her bed any time soon.”
“But how will you explain your decision to the High Priest?”
“I don’t want Mirella to be my Blessed Bride any longer and I repudiate her.”
“That will cause quite a stir.” Gabriel drank from his cup. “And what about her family? What are you going to say to them? How will you explain their daughter’s disappearance?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to them, but I will let Mirella visit her family before she leaves Lupine.”
“I’m glad you don’t intend to gag and bind her before throwing her into my ship.” Gabriel’s intention was to lighten the atmosphere, but Valentine wasn’t in the mood for playful remarks.
“I’m itching to break someone’s face. Do you want to offer yours?” His gaze went outside the window as he focused on the manicured gardens and the reflective pools.
“Will you give her freedom?” Gabriel asked as if he hadn’t heard Valentine’s threat.
“Of course.”
“You’ll allow your bride to live as she pleases.”
“That’s my plan.”
“She might find love. What will happen then? Will you let her have a life with another man?”
Valentine’s roar was loud. Pain tore him apart as he contemplated the scenario his friend had proposed.
His beloved kitten in someone else’s arms. Making love to another man. Without thinking, Valentine drove his fist through the one glass panel that was ajar, sending the whole frame shattering against the window. He focused on the droplets of blood falling from his hand, then centered his thoughts around Mirella’s safety.
“I won’t interfere. I wish for her to have a fulfilling life,” he finally said, but he was screaming inside.
His wolf had kept quiet the whole time.
“You do love her.” Gabriel stared at Valentine as if he had sprouted horns on his forehead.
Valentine scoffed, resuming his watch at the now broken window. He cursed out loud, then gestured for Gabriel to come closer and pointed at the path leading away from the studio.
Ronda was strolling through the hanging gardens as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I can’t believe the woman’s audacity.” Valentine rang the bell, calling Martali, his head guard, who immediately answered his summon.
“What can I do for you, Master Lobo?” the lean guard asked from the door.
“Escort the courtesan Ronda out of the premises. She is forever banned from Lobo Manor,” Valentine answered.
“Right away.” Martali saluted Valentine and pivoted on his polished boots.
“That redhead is more trouble than she’s worth,” Gabriel commented. “I’ve never liked her.”
Valentine rubbed his temple. “I should’ve sent her away a long time ago. But you know her story—”
“Not all victims are good people. She was a bad person who happened to be mistreated. Her pain and suffering didn’t make her a better woman and never excused her willingness to wreak havoc whenever she could.” Gabriel raised his cup for another sip.
“You are right, but if you had only seen her the way she was when I found her in that pleasure house.” Valentine closed his eyes for a moment. “Never mind though. She has gone out of her way to disrespect Mirella and she has even disobeyed my direct order. I told her I wanted her out first thing in the morning, and instead she is still here.”
“You’ll have to find a new favorite—” Gabriel needled him with a poke of his boot on the side of Valentine’s chair.
“I don’t want a new favorite, and I am of a mind to close the harem altogether.” Valentine finished his goblet in one swig, then went to the liquor cabinet for a refill.
“Valentine Lobo, the monk.” Gabriel seemed to think about it, then shook his head. “Nah. You and I are not made of hallowed cloth.”
“I’ve never said I was.” Valentine’s constant state of arousal was proof of his less-than-holy nature, but how to explain that he couldn’t think of any other woman that wasn’t Mirella without looking like a fool?
“I don’t know. It seems a logistic nightmare for your men to find skilled companions so far away from Adris.” Gabriel’s comment was the main reason Valentine had not given the order to dismantle the harem yet.
That and the fact he would have to find a job for all the courtesans in his employment. He had saved those girls one by one from the hands of their tormentors, and he would never throw them into the streets of Adris again without a prospect. It might be the right time to give the green light to his long postponed project to open a pleasure house managed by the girls. The establishment would be strictly regulated by a consortium of courtesans, with doctors and guards on their payroll to assure the girls were treated with respect and care.
“My guards will have to work slightly harder to receive their treat.”
“And what about you?” Gabriel asked.
Valentine didn’t answer. His heart was too heavy. Having talked to Gabriel about his plan to send Mirella away to Celestia had put yet another nail in the coffin.
Losing Mirella was his fate. But keeping her alive was his mission, and he would not fail at that, no matter the cost. Not even if it was killing him inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Mirella ran to her apartments without waiting for Crea. A cascade of tears obfuscated her sight, but she forged ahead, one step after the other. A stone on her path sent her sprawling to the ground. She didn’t care for the pain on her knee. She wiped her face with a bloodied hand and stood back up.
“Blessed Bride!” Crea called from behind. “Mirella! Wait for me, you’ve hurt yourself.”
Amongst so much hustling, her braid came undone and a blanket of hair fell on her face.
“Mirella, please slow down.”
But Mirella wasn’t listening anymore. She had heard all she needed to hea
r. If only she had walked the longer route to her apartments, she would have never passed under her husband’s studio, and she would have never eavesdropped on his conversation with Gabriel.
Valentine’s shouted words had wounded her deeply.
“What if she’s already with child?” She had heard Gabriel ask.
“She is not,” Valentine answered with a vicious snarl that made Mirella recoil. “She can’t be. I don’t want her to be. I haven’t spilled my Vital Essence in days and I have no intentions to visit her bed any time soon.”
“But how will you explain your decision to the High Priest?”
“I don’t want Mirella to be my Blessed Bride any longer and I repudiate her.”
“That will cause quite a stir,” Gabriel said. “And what about her family? What are you going to say to them? How will you explain their daughter’s disappearance?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to them, but I will let Mirella visit her family before she leaves Lupine.”
“I’m glad you don’t intend to gag and bind her before throwing her into my ship.”
What had she done to deserve such harsh treatment from her husband? Could it be that he was so angry at her for the market incident? Whatever it was, it wasn’t her fault. Still, the knowledge she had done nothing wrong didn’t help her feel any better. The pain tearing her apart was immense.
She reached her apartments in a state of agitation and closed herself into the bathroom.
Crea pounded on the door and only stopped when Mirella told her she needed to be alone for a while.
“I’ll be here,” Crea said, and Mirella heard the girl sliding down on the other side of the door.
Later that night, Mirella reemerged into the bedroom and refused the dinner waiting for her on a tray by the fireplace.
When sleep finally arrived, she dreamed she was in the studio when Valentine was talking to Gabriel. A half-naked Ronda was sitting on Valentine’s lap, caressing his chest, kissing him. She cried, and a reassuring hand stroked her shoulders.
The next day, Mirella was bathing when Crea knocked on the bathroom’s door, announcing, “Master Lobo is here.”
“Tell my husband I don’t want to see him,” Mirella answered without thinking. Her anger hadn’t abated, and she was still too hurt by Ronda’s words and Valentine’s as well, making her act without filtering her words. She didn’t care.
A muffled conversation took place in her chamber, and she expected Valentine to burst through the door at any moment. Surprisingly, a second knock on the door was followed by Crea’s bewildered words, “Master Lobo said he would come back later.”
“He left?” Mirella asked.
“He left,” Crea repeated, leaving Mirella in a state of utter confusion.
She spent the rest of the day pacing through her apartments, with an eye on the door. At dinnertime, Valentine came back as promised. This time, Mirella was sitting at the bay window, books and a forgotten meal tray sitting on the cushion.
She couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows circling his eyes and the unshaven stubble covering his jaw. Blaming the weakness of her heart for her impulse to caress his face, she steeled her resolve to keep him at a distance.
From the entrance, Valentine looked at her with hooded eyes and a calm demeanor. “Would you accompany me for dinner?” he asked. His outfit was dusty and his usually shiny riding boots were splatted with mud. Standing in a wide stance, he kept his arms crossed over his chest.
Mirella saw how his jaw clenched as he waited for her response. “No thanks,” she finally said, her heart beating fast, wanting to kiss his mouth more than anything else. The fact she desired him despite everything that had happened maddened her, making her feel sick, but she was done playing the submissive bride. If her body was bent on betraying her, she would use her mind as a shield to protect her feelings.
“Are you feeling okay?” Valentine stepped inside, walking toward her.
“I’m fine. Just not in the mood for company.” Her words stopped him in his tracks. Good. Mirella stood from the cushioned bench of the bay window. She had been trying to read a book for the last few hours and failed. The words swam before her eyes and the meaning of the story was lost to her. Gathering all the willpower she needed for such a trial, she gave him her back and walked away. He left her.
She had another nightmare that night. The same one. Soft caresses relaxed her into a dreamless slumber.
The next morning, Valentine arrived with a bouquet of white roses with a single crimson bud in the middle.
“May we break our fast together?” he asked, bringing the bouquet to her.
He had shaved and his outfit was crisp, showing his sculptural physique at its best. She didn’t want to, but her eyes went to his large chest, then to his slim waist tapering to his strong thighs. In her mind, she traced the muscles that framed the V leading to his manhood. His clean scent reached her nose, softening her resolve to keep her distance, but Ronda’s words and his conversation with Gabriel came back to her in sharp details.
“No,” she answered, then added, “Thank you for the flowers.”
Again, Valentine left without asking questions or pressuring her. His temperance in accepting her will should have impressed her, but she was still too wounded and angry to care. She was so upset she couldn’t bring herself to ask him why he wanted to send her away. Or why he had spent the night with Ronda when she had offered herself more times than she could count. With her heart broken, her wounded pride was the only quality she had left and it threatened to crumble every time she saw Valentine.
The following night was a repeat of the previous. Dark nightmares and soothing whispers.
Afterward, for three days, Valentine came back at every meal, bearing flowers or small tokens. Mirella’s answer to his offers to spend time together was always the same.
“Thank you. No.”
Valentine’s hurt expression whenever she refused him upset her as well, and soon she was a victim of her stubbornness, suffering frequent stomachaches. Especially in the morning, when she also experienced strong migraines. She didn’t use them as an excuse to send away Valentine because she didn’t want him to call for Balenus. The last thing she wanted was to anticipate the monthly prodding and blood-drawing.
From her windows, she could see preparations taking place for Gabriel to leave, and she knew her time at Lobo Mansion had come to an end. She grieved immeasurably for the loss of Valentine already, but she would not say that to him. So, she kept sending him away, only to go to sleep at night with the hope he would come and shoo away her bad dreams. She had a hard time understanding herself, but she missed him, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her point. She even wondered if it was all for naught.
On the fourth morning, Mirella was resting in the parlor when Crea arrived with a somber face. A strong bout of nausea had left her breathless. The thought that her recurrent queasiness wasn’t the result of nerves nagged her, and she tried to remember when was the last time she had her menses. A month had passed for sure.
“Master Lobo is here,” her lady’s maid said, interrupting her wanderings.
Mirella had expected him for the last hour. “Tell him to come later.” She kept her eyes to the plains. Soon, she would be gone, away from the manor, away from Valentine. But what if she was expecting his child? If nothing else, they should talk about her possible state. But deep inside, she was tired of rejecting him and had decided to ask him all the questions swirling in her mind. She merely needed a moment to gather her thoughts together. She needed to feel in control.
His steps echoed outside of the parlor.
He opened the door and strode to her. “My Blessed Bride, we need to talk,” he said.
Valentine wore a black aviator suit and had never looked so handsome. A stubble of dark-blond hair covered his jaws, and his head was perfectly shaved. She missed his wild mane, but his eyes shone brighter without it.
“I agree,” she sa
id, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaken as she felt.
Another bout of nausea left her dizzy.
Next thing she knew, he was on his knees in front of her. “Kitten?”
She shivered at the sweetness of hearing her pet name one more time on his lips.
“How do you feel?” he asked, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth for a chaste kiss.
“It’s nothing.” She pressed one hand against her stomach.
“I’ll call Balenus.”
“Not now.” She steadied her voice, then said, “What did you want to tell me?”
“I’ve made a decision.” He pressed her hand to his face, leaning against it.
That’s it, she thought. You’ve made a decision and I’ll have to live by your will.
“Gabriel’s departure is scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and it’s in your best interest to follow him to Celestia.”
“Why?” she heard herself ask when she wanted to scream.
“You are in danger by my side, and I want you to be safe.”
He almost makes it sound like a good thing.
“So you have decided to send me away,” she said.
“It wasn’t easy—”
“I heard you talking to Gabriel.” She snorted. “I was unfortunate enough to walk by your studio while you were having an enlightening conversion with your friend.”
“What did you hear?” He stared at her, unblinking.
“Enough to know you don’t want me here and that you don’t want to have a child with me.” If possible, she felt the softest flutter of wings under her hand pressed against her stomach. Tears reached her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Pain passed through his hazel eyes, darkening them for a moment, but he regained his composure right away. “You are wrong.”
“So you are not sending me away and I’ve heard you wrong?” Mirella couldn’t believe he was denying the truth.
“I can’t have you here with me, and I don’t want to argue with you right now.” He leaned forward, halting his lips mere millimeters from hers. “We don’t have much time left together.”
“And whose fault is that?” Her heart pounding loud in her ears, Mirella wanted to deny him the kiss, but when his scent reached her nostrils she was lost. She could taste his desire on her tongue, and it was as strong and desperate as hers.
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