by Sara Page
“It’s not me. You’ve got the wrong girl,” I say in denial.
“It’s you, Ameia.” Striker groans.
“How do you know?”
Striker shudders. “I just know.”
“No, no. I don’t want to be the stupid Beacon. Pick some other girl.”
“Ameia, Ameia, Ameia,” Striker murmurs against my skin. “I’ve known your name since the day I was born.”
“Well…well, I didn’t know yours!” I say flustered and Striker chuckles.
His head pops back up and he stares me down. “Accept me, Ameia,” Striker says all too seriously.
I immediately start to shake my head no.
He growls angrily and grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me. “Accept me, Ameia. I pledge everything that I have to you. I will live only to serve and protect you.”
My head keeps shaking and he grabs my face, gripping my cheeks to stop me. “All that I am, all that I will ever be, it is yours if you’ll have it.”
I can’t. I can’t.
“I will die for you. I will more than happily kill for you.”
Suddenly he releases my cheeks and drops to floor, kneeling before me. Striker tips his head back and it just feels so wrong to be looking down on him.
“Only you can lead me to my destiny.”
Striker is staring up at me and I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. He’s laid such a great weight upon my shoulders, such a great burden. And while I stare down at him in horror, Beast’s words ring in my ears.
When you deny a man his destiny, you doom him to a fate worse than death.
If I’m Striker’s destiny, he’s doomed.
I can’t accept Striker, I just can’t do that to Beast.
“Don’t,” I plead and reach down, pressing my fingers to his lips. “Please don’t ask this of me. The answer will be no and I don’t want to doom you. Please, please don’t ask this of me.”
Striker grabs my hand and kisses my fingers, never looking away as he rises to his feet. I was afraid my refusal to even let him ask me to accept him would hurt him or something. If anything, he looks even more determined as he stares into my eyes.
“Very well, Ameia. I will not ask at this time, but know that some day I will.” He kisses my hand once more before letting me pull it back.
My fingers tingle so I curl them into a fist at my side. If only there was a switch inside me I could flip, to turn off all of these sensations, these feelings for him.
“And know that the next time I ask,” he grins. “You will accept me.”
For a moment there I was actually feeling bad for the guy, and feeling even a little remorseful that I had to let him down. I did try to do it as gently as possible. But now his surety, his smug cockiness just rubs me in all the wrong ways.
Striker tips back his dark head and laughs. “And Ameia, your stubbornness will only make it that much sweeter.”
I glare at him and resist the urge to snort in derision. Maybe I should slap him. Slap that grin right off his purple face. He’d probably like that though. He’s twisted like that. So instead I reach up, straighten my tiara and push past him.
He doesn’t stop me. No, if anything his laughter cackles even louder.
“Fight it all you want,” he says as I unlock my bedroom door and yank it open.
I won’t look back, I won’t. I’ll leave the asshole talking to himself. I lift my chin. I’ve got things to take care of and by God, I will handle them.
If only my heart didn’t skip a beat as he says behind me as I walk out, “Destiny finds a way.”
Chapter Thirteen
I walk the cold, empty hallways of the palace and come to the frightening conclusion that the reason no one has bothered us, that no one has come knocking on my door wondering what the hell I’m doing with two Ravagers in my room, is because the palace seems to be completely empty. Besides the medical staff, Kings Guard and my father in the medical ward, there’s not another soul about.
It’s as if there’s been an evacuation or something. This can’t be good.
Striker meets up with me halfway through my inspection. I don’t say anything to him, trying not to acknowledge him, but it’s hard not to be aware of his presence as he seems to fade in and out of the shadows. I think he’s just doing it now to show off.
After checking the twentieth room and finding it empty, I decide to give up on searching for people and head directly for the palace front doors. I grab the ornate handles of the doors and pull until my arms hurt. The doors don’t move, somehow they’re locked. These doors are never locked. Fuck. What the hell is going on here?
“What’s wrong, princess?” Striker asks as he fades in from the shadows.
I huff in frustration and regard Striker. He’s dressed in his armor once more, helmet included, so I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. “These doors should open. I’m not sure what is going on.”
“I could give it a try if you’d like me to,” Striker says.
Is he being nice? Or does he just want to break something? I shrug and take a step back, waving at him to go ahead. “By all means.”
Striker steps up to the doors and a high pitched squeak slices through my brain as his clawed fingers scrape against the handles. He yanks and the doors pop open with a loud cracking sound, coming off at the hinges. Striker pushes forward and the doors fall down flat to the ground with a thud and a puff of dust. He looks back at me, cocking his head.
“Not exactly what I was meaning…” I sigh. “But thank you.”
Striker nods and I step up, onto the doors, walking across them as lightly as possible. Striker, however, stomps heavily behind me. I’m not sure he can even help it.
Outside the sky is dark, and the stars and lights of the skyline are muted behind the palaces defensive shields. Why are the shields up? As I walk out into the empty front courtyard, a cold feeling of dread settles in my stomach.
How could I have been so careless? So clueless? How could I have let this happen? I thought it was such good luck that no one was bothering us. I never truly inspected why no one was giving me trouble.
“Halt!” Someone calls out as I reach the front gates.
Overhead a drone whizzes past, beeping and chirping as its camera zooms in on us. Just beyond the front gate, an armed and armored squad of guards stand, pointing their guns at me.
Striker growls and appears in front of me, shielding me with his obsidian body. “Stay back, Ameia.”
“What is the meaning of this?” I call out and lean to the side, trying to peer around Striker. “What is going on?”
That group of guards can’t be seriously threatening me with their weapons. Maybe Striker has them on edge?
“Princess Ameia,” the same voice that yelled at me to halt answers. “You are ordered to return to the palace.”
“By whose orders?!” I call out. I try to step around Striker but he cuts me off, shoving me back.
“Prince Vrillum,” the voice answers.
I can’t even see who I’m talking to and everything about this is pissing me off. I push angrily at Striker but I’d probably have better luck moving a mountain.
“He doesn’t have the authority!” I’m forced to call out from behind Striker’s back, who’s completely undermining my authority right now. “You are to stand down and allow me to pass!”
There’s a pause of hesitation. I can hear mumbling, the guards talking among themselves. I try to peek around Striker again but damn he’s fast. I only manage to poke out my nose for a split second.
“Princess Ameia, I must again ask you to please return to the palace or we will be forced to escort you.”
Forced to escort me?
I can’t believe I have to ask this, because it should be me dammit, but I call out, “I want to speak to who’s in charge!”
“Princess, please!” The voice says with a new desperation. “Prince Vrillum has been contacted, he’ll be here shortly. Please wait for him inside the palac
e.”
“Let’s go, Ameia,” Striker says, pushing me back.
“But,” I protest. Striker just shakes his head. This is bullshit. Utter bullshit. I’m sick and tired of being bossed around.
“I’ve been ordered to protect you, even if it means protecting you from yourself.” Striker gives me another push and I stumble back with a frown.
“Did you know this was happening?” I ask with a huff and spin on my heel. I can’t take on them all. I’ll just have to save my anger for Vrillum when he shows up.
Striker doesn’t answer and that tells me all. Dammit. I bet both he and Beast have known all along. It seems everyone has been busy while I’ve been wrapped up inside myself.
Walking back into the palace feels like defeat. I didn’t even get to put up that much of a fight, Striker shut me down too fast.
I end up pacing and chewing my lip in the front hall while I wait for Vrillum to arrive. How did he get the authority to do any of this? Did the council grant him the authority? Do they even know I’ve returned? Even if Vrillum failed to share the information, Admiral Yarkof knows I’m back, as well as any of the servants I ran across before they left the palace.
When Vrillum finally does show up, it happens to be with my own personal protection squad.
“Vrillum,” I say immediately, crossing my arms over my chest as he walks in. My lip aches, I nearly chewed the damn thing raw waiting on him. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Who gave you the authority to lock me in the palace?”
“Ameia,” Vrillum sighs and stops a few feet away from me. He eyes Striker warily and Striker’s eyes flash crimson right back at him. “I’m sorry you’re upset. The council and I decided it would be best if we kept you and your guests contained to the palace for security reasons.”
“Vrillum,” I say slowly, in an effort to keep myself calm when all I really want to do is blast him. “The guards you stationed outside the gates pointed guns at me. At me.”
“That is unacceptable, I know. I’m sorry.” Vrillum frowns and apologizes. “I’m afraid the guards were confused regarding the extent of their orders. They would have never harmed you, I promise you.”
“They wouldn’t have harmed her,” Striker decides to speak up. “Because I would have killed them all before they had the chance.”
Vrillum shoots me a look and I shrug my shoulders. Hey, at least someone around here is willing to stick up for me.
“If you had concerns about my guests, Vrillum,” I say. “You should have taken them up with me before running to the council. Now all you’ve done is create a sticky diplomatic mess. And no doubt you’ve caused a great deal of undue panic in the process.”
“Ameia,” Vrillum says, taking a step toward me, as well as the entire squad behind him. “We should discuss this in private.”
I shoot a look over at Striker, but he shakes his horned-covered head telling me that’s not going to happen.
“I want to speak to the council.”
Vrillum blinks at me, then the corners of his mouth twitches. “I can arrange that. But you do know your guests will not be able to accompany you?” Vrillum looks around. “By the way, where is the other one? Prince Drek was it?”
Shit and double shit. I know what he’s up to, and I’m not falling for it this time. I know better than to put myself at Vrillum’s mercy again.
“Set it up as a conference call through the holovid.” My father always did that when he couldn’t be bothered to leave the palace.
Vrillum frowns at me and I feel like giving myself a pat on the back for slipping his trap.
“If I do set it up as a conference call, your guest will have to remain outside the door. He cannot legally be witness to the session.”
I sigh and feel Striker glaring at me. I don’t necessarily want to be separated from him but it’s not like a door can stop him.
“Fine,” I say. “Set it up.”
While at the same time Striker says, “No.”
“But,” I add, shooting Striker a pointed glance. Zip it. “Your guards will have to remain outside also.”
His guards, ugh. His guards that are behind him right now, guarding his back. They’re supposed to be mine. My personal protection squad. My defense against threats such as him. It burns my ass that he has them.
“Very well,” Vrillum says. “I’ll get it set up right away. You can meet me in the conference room in oh, say… thirty minutes?”
I nod my head at him, keeping with this pretense of civility between us. As soon as I get in front of the council, it’s all going down. I will strip away all of the authority granted to him in my absence. Then I’m going to order his ass outside of the palace. Maybe I’ll find him a position as the royal toilet cleaner or something. If he doesn’t piss me off some more.
This is it. Having guards point guns at me is the final straw. I’ve tried to give Vrillum the benefit of the doubt, but he’s only proven time and time again he doesn’t deserve it. He’s a sneaky, slimy bastard, and I need to get him under control until my father is well enough to deal with him and his mother.
I feel the corners of my own lips twitching, wanting to pull into a smile. I’ve handled this pretty well, and even Striker has kept relatively calm. It’s a job well done for once. Keeping a cool head has definitely worked out to my advantage.
Vrillum turns to leave but then he suddenly stops.
“You know, I just had a thought…” he says, and his green eyes light up, sparkling with amusement. “Being alone with you will give us the chance to discuss our wedding plans. There are a few details I’ve been wanting to go over with you.”
“Wedding?” Striker growls and Vrillum snickers, the guards tightening their formation around him as he exits the palace.
Great, he’s riled up the Ravager. And just when I thought things were going so well for once. How am I even going to explain this one?
* * *
“You cannot take him as your third, Ameia. I will not allow it. I will kill him first,” Striker threatens me.
“Wait? What?” I ask, whipping around to face Striker after Vrillum walks out. “What are you getting on about?”
“You cannot accept Vrillum as your third mate,” Striker says, stomping towards me.
“Third mate?” I repeat dumbly. “Why would I take him on as my third mate? I don’t want him as a mate, period.”
“You don’t?” Striker asks, cocking his head as if he doubts me. “Then why will there be a wedding?”
“No, I don’t!” I insist. “And there’s not going to be a wedding. Vrillum just thinks there is, even though I didn’t even agree to it.”
“So there will be no wedding and you will not be accepting Vrillum as a mate?”
“No!”
Ugh, just this whole thing, ew.
I don’t care what my father said, or what I think he said, I’m not marrying Vrillum. It’s sick, just sick.
“Good,” Striker says, stopping in front of me.
“Good?” I repeat.
Striker nods and I sigh, relieved. It feels like I just managed to avoid… something.
Then I just have to go and ask, “Do Ravagers like… take on more than one wife? Is that what you mean by mate?”
“No,” Striker answers which just confuses me.
“Then what’s up with the third mate thing? Why would you think I’d take Vrillum on as mine?”
“We don’t take on multiple mates. Once we are called and accepted, we are bonded to that one for life.”
“Oh,” I say, and that answer just makes me feel anxious and a little sick. Beast never mentioned being bonded to me for life. But then again, I didn’t really ask him many questions before accepting him. “But the ones who you bond with? They take on more than one?”
“Yes, Ameia. It is not uncommon for our mates to call many to join with them.”
Oh, stars. Please, please, do not let me call anymore Ravagers.
“You’re turning green, princess,” Strike
r says, reaching for me. “Are you unwell?”
I reach out and brace my hand against the wall to steady myself and wave him off with the other hand. “I’m fine. Just need a moment. It’s a lot to take in.”
“It is different for your people?” Striker asks.
I nod after a moment, when I don’t feel like I’m going to puke. “Yes, very different. We’re monogamous. We’ve tried plural marriage in the past but it never worked out.”
Either greedy men wanted to hog all the women for themselves and started wars, or women tried to take more than one husband and the husbands would fight and kill each other.
“You only take one mate?”
“Yes. One and only.”
Striker’s gaze burns into me and he’s so quiet, so deathly silent, I’m more than a little disturbed by it.
I keep waiting for him to say something, to do something but he just glares and glares.
I push away from the wall and straighten myself. “We should probably head to the conference room and inspect it. Make sure Vrillum hasn’t set up a trap.”
“Ameia,” Striker growls and he steps right into my personal bubble. “You will accept me.”
“Didn’t we just talk about this?” I frown and tip my head back to look up at him. “Now is really not the time to rehash this. We can discuss this later.”
“Later?” Striker asks.
“Later,” I nod and resist the urge to cross my fingers behind my back. “When Beast returns.”
Chapter Fourteen
The conference room is clear. Striker and I search every nook, every cranny, and there’s not a booby trap to be found. Just a conference-sized table, a few chairs, and one large wall dedicated to holovid communication.
“I am not leaving him alone with you,” Striker says after we finish our inspection.
I pull out a chair and take a seat. It feels good to sit down for once, even if it makes Striker feel that much more tall and imposing.
“You don’t exactly have a choice,” I say. “I don’t exactly have a choice either. I need to speak to the council to stop Vrillum from undermining me, and the only way to speak to them is if you’re not in the room. The council is closed to off-worlders. They will not speak to me if they see you.”