A sickening, blinding headache pulled at Marco’s temples; he shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to hear what Sabrina was telling him. ‘‘I don’t believe you,’’ he whispered, voice thick. ‘‘You would have told me before now—someone would have told me—’’
‘‘After Jared’s parents were murdered and he ascended to the throne, the elders had me bring you here, to Earth. To protect you. To protect the succession because Jared was in such terrible, life-threatening danger.’’
Marco gestured at her angrily. ‘‘What you’re saying is that all this time I thought I was training, serving, disciplining myself as a Madjin, I wasn’t really the protector. I was th-the protected,’’ he sputtered.
‘‘That’s not entirely true, Marco,’’ she argued softly. ‘‘It was never like that.’’
Every day that he had lived, for as long as he could remember, was a sham. They’d taken him, the bastard son of a murdered king, and hidden him. Fawned over him and prayed the day would never come when they needed to parade him in front of the people as the heir apparent. He spun to face her. ‘‘Then how, exactly, was it, Sabrina? You’re telling me that the Madjin Circle brought me here for protection—’’
‘‘Just as Jared was protected.’’
‘‘But you drew the Circle around me—not him.’’
‘‘He was secure, Marco. Safe. You know it—the safest he could be during a time of war.’’
He jabbed at the air with his finger. ‘‘He will never know this. Never. I am his protector, his Madjin, and he will never know this, or I’ll kill whoever tells him.’’
‘‘You’re his brother,’’ she reminded him. ‘‘The time has come for—’’
He roared, ‘‘He will never know! Nothing will change, not for him, not for me, not for the Circle.’’ Marco barked his wishes, dimly aware that he was behaving every bit the ruler they claimed he was born to be. ‘‘From this day forward, no one mentions this to him or to me again.’’
‘‘You can’t pretend you’re someone you aren’t, Marco.’’
‘‘I can’t pretend I’m a prince, either.’’
She smiled, an annoyingly patient smile, which only stoked his rage. ‘‘You’re every bit as much a D’Aravni as your brother. In time you’ll come to understand that.’’
‘‘What’s that supposed to mean?’’
‘‘You’ve seen what Jared is—what Thea is, truly. The power, the gifts’’—she paused significantly, tilting her head upward so that their gazes locked—‘‘the fire.’’
He shook his head in flimsy denial, even as he felt a strong burning sensation catch hold in his chest. The same sensation he had felt countless times with Thea—in her arms, in his dreams, just looking at her. In that bar, the very first night. Always with Thea the growing sensation of scorching fire, when all along it hadn’t just been her pure nature, as he’d believed, but his own as well. He remembered how the sight of her natural form had aroused him beyond his imagining, stoking his lust for her to outrageous proportions.
And most of all, he recalled the way that intercepting Jared and Kelsey’s bond had awakened a desire to experience Thea’s mating cycle with her; how palpable and real that need had been.
Because he was just like her, a being of fire and lust and power. And just like his brother. ‘‘That’s why I intercepted his bond with Kelsey,’’ he said, realization dawning.
Sabrina inclined her head, saying nothing, but she didn’t have to. He saw the answer in her eyes.
Marco rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to process all the revelations. ‘‘Why are you telling me this now? Before my wedding?’’
‘‘Because you had to know before then,’’ she answered opaquely.
He dropped his hands away from his eyes. ‘‘Why? You tell me.’’
She took several steps closer, and reached a hand to cup his cheek. Very rarely had Sabrina expressed physical affection toward him, not after he’d grown out of his headaches. But on very rare occasions she treated him as her son, except this time he recoiled from her touch.
She stared up at him, her eyes shining with heartfelt emotion. ‘‘If you mate with Thea, there’s a very real possibility that you will undergo your first Change while you make love.’’
He shook his head, half-terrified, as much of losing his virginity as of experiencing the kind of cataclysmic transformation she was describing.
‘‘Marco, this is your true nature. It’s who you are.’’
‘‘A force of nature,’’ he muttered.
‘‘An amazing person, a powerful being. A warrior, a prince, the king’s brother . . . soon to be husband to Thea. You will likely Change the first time you lie with her.’’
‘‘No,’’ he denied, feeling vaguely excited and repulsed at the same time. ‘‘No, not then.’’
‘‘You’re inexperienced in these matters, but the Madjin have guided the royal houses through their Change for thousands of years. You won’t be able to fight off the urge once you come together with her. It’s the natural way of things for your kind. It’s your natural state, far more than’’—she waved her hand at the length of his body—‘‘this form will ever be.’’
‘‘Why haven’t I experienced this Change before?’’ he demanded. ‘‘If this is true, tell me that.’’
‘‘Because you never passed through your awakening, at least not completely, because you didn’t understand it. Once, when you were fifteen, you complained to me of a terrible fever, of feeling strange and out of sorts. Do you remember that?’’
He instantly knew the time she described; it had been on a ranch in Montana, a place of rest and tranquility that he’d loved almost more than any other in their nomadic lives. His body had blazed with desire for days on end; he’d felt dirty, ashamed. Certain that something dark was altering inside himself.
‘‘I was filled with lust, my body hot and unsteady,’’ he admitted gruffly. ‘‘I thought there was something wrong with me, Sabrina!’’
‘‘It was the first flush of your awakening. But you closed yourself off, unaware—and I prayed you’d never cycle again.’’
A realization hit him. ‘‘That’s why you told me I had to stay apart from women. That I couldn’t ever have a girlfriend, or sleep around. You knew what would happen to me!’’ he shouted angrily. ‘‘It wasn’t because I’m an empath—it’s because you knew I’d learn the truth. And it would have exposed me.’’
‘‘It was a danger, yes,’’ she agreed solemnly. ‘‘There was always the risk you might make your Change with a human during the act.’’
‘‘The act?’’ he snarled. ‘‘The act, Sabrina? Call it what it is! It’s having sex, making love—and for just about thirty years I’ve hardly been touched by anyone,’’ he sputtered. ‘‘Because you’ve kept me in the dark about my identity.’’ He shook his head, acid fury boiling over. ‘‘I’m out of here. I have nothing more to say about all of this, except that if I so much as hear a murmur that Jared knows a thing’’—he jabbed the air with his finger—‘‘I’ll be out for blood.’’
‘‘Marco, wait!’’ Sabrina reached for him, but he shrugged off her grasp.
‘‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you,’’ he told her icily. ‘‘I’m not sure I ever will.’’
He pushed open the meeting room door with both palms, so hard that it slammed against the exterior wall, and wondered how in the hell he’d ever face his near-mate again. Much less marry her the next day as he’d hoped.
Chapter Twenty-five
As was custom for the women of her family, Thea spent the night before her wedding alone, choosing to sleep at the stone guesthouse. The place had always been her private refuge, tonight more than ever. The outside temperature was unseasonably warm, the dark sky overhead netted with twinkling stars. It made a perfect night to sit on the outside steps and simply stare at the heavens: Somewhere far beyond what her eyes could see was her home. But after tomorrow, Marco would become her true home, the
one central point in her universe.
The light from the windows shone brightly on the steps and surrounding ground. She withdrew a small journal from where she’d stowed it beside her. She’d come here in search of the diary, really, when she could have spent a private night in her quarters. She flipped through the pages, studying the familiar inky scrawl that belonged to Prince Arienn. In some ways—and for many years—he’d been her secret lover. She’d even fantasized about somehow traveling through time via the mitres and declaring her love for him. But based on what? Reading his innermost thoughts and ideas . . . his very dreams. It had always been an infatuation, a way to bide her time while she was waiting for Jared to simply wake up. And now everything she’d imagined for herself had been turned topsy-turvy; every fantasy, every dream remade by one gorgeous Madjin warrior. Her true soulmate.
She shivered at the thought, tracing her fingertip over Arienn’s loopy handwriting; in a sense, he represented the last remnants of her childish youth, and she’d come to tell her once-cousin farewell. Reading over his journal entry, she found herself falling under the same strange spell she’d felt in the mitres chamber a few days earlier. That eerie sense that somehow the man still lived.
Arienn had been a D’Aravni, same as Jared—and the thing that still perplexed her was how drawn she always felt to the men of that line. It had always been as if something were writ into her DNA, her very soul, compelling her toward Jared—even toward her fantasy of Arienn. And then Marco had exploded into her life, altering everything, opening her eyes to what love, in all its many incarnations, truly meant. It made her lifelong compulsions fade into nothing. Still, no matter how much she loved Marco, she felt jittery and on edge; tomorrow night she would give him her body, her soul, her energy. It was an awe-inspiring, arousing thought—and it unsettled her as much as it thrilled her.
Speak to me, cousin, she whispered inside, staring at Arienn’s journal. Please help me calm my gyrating emotions. Drawing in a deep breath, she began to read:
On the eve of my lifemating, I find myself embattled, grappling with my very nature. What manner of creature will Louisa find me to be when first we lie together? She claims readiness, boldness, but her frailer human temperament is surely no match for my raging, D’Aravnian blood. Ill-suited at best, disastrously paired at worst, I would as soon staunch my love for her as I would my Change. My essence. My power. But shall she flee after gazing upon me? My heart feels faint and trembles within me; what scourge shall I become should she spurn my fire?
Oh, cousin, she thought, I understand totally. She’d always known Arienn had mated with a human; it had been the one secret she’d kept as her own. No one else had ever read his more intimate journals, and she’d preferred it that way. Although Marco was obviously not human, he certainly wasn’t a dual being, so she shared some of Arienn’s marital discomfort. The only difference was that Marco had already glimpsed her true nature, and had reacted with verve and arousal. And he loved her—all of her!
These fears are insane, she reassured herself. He knows exactly what I am.
Giving her head a slight shake, she pushed the thoughts from her mind, but then a rustling sound on the trail set her adrenaline flowing. Fumbling with her hip holster, she reached for her weapon, sniffing at the air, but Kelsey appeared from the copse of trees.
‘‘You need to really be careful about that,’’ Thea called out as the human approached. ‘‘I nearly pulled a weapon on you.’’
Kelsey appeared stricken. ‘‘Oh, man!’’ she blurted, hands extended. ‘‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’’
Thea stared back at the woman strangely. ‘‘I am not a man.’’
‘‘That’s . . . what we’d call a language barrier.’’ Kelsey laughed. ‘‘It’s just an expression.’’
‘‘I was about to fire your head off.’’ Thea gave her a grudging smile. ‘‘I have a feeling Jared wouldn’t have appreciated that.’’
Kelsey returned her smile. ‘‘It might have ruined your wedding day too.’’
‘‘Good chance of that.’’
Kelsey strolled closer. ‘‘I know you’re supposed to be alone tonight and all that—and I’m not going to stick around—’’
‘‘It’s all right.’’
‘‘No, seriously, it’s part of the tradition, that’s what Jared said, but I just wanted to come . . .’’ Her voice trailed off, a furrow forming between her auburn eyebrows.
‘‘Come and do what?’’ Thea prompted, closing Arienn’s journal where it still rested on her knees.
Kelsey drew in a breath, then plopped down beside her on the step. ‘‘I wanted to come tell you that I’m happy for you—truly happy for you. And that you’ve got our blessing. Jared wanted to tell you that,’’ she rushed, ‘‘but didn’t want to make you, well, uncomfortable. Still, we know that Madjin tradition means we’re supposed to bless the union, so that’s . . . what I’m here to do.’’
Thea couldn’t hide her smile of approval. ‘‘You’re doing really well with this, you know.’’
‘‘Well with . . . ?’’
‘‘Stepping into the role of our queen. You have a lovely manner, a way of putting people at ease.’’
Kelsey frowned. ‘‘You don’t have to say that.’’
‘‘You’re right, I don’t.’’
For a moment Kelsey’s lips parted, and it was evident she wasn’t sure what to make of Thea’s reply—until it hit her that she genuinely meant the compliment.
Quietly bowing her head, Kelsey confessed, ‘‘I feel totally over my head. I keep going through all the appropriate motions, hoping I figure things out along the way.’’
‘‘You saved all of us in the chamber—your entire world. If they only knew, they’d revere you.’’
‘‘It’s crazy complicated, all this knowledge in my head, and trying to figure out how to be the kind of queen Jared needs, especially with—’’ Kelsey clamped her mouth shut abruptly, but Thea knew exactly what she’d been about to say.
Clearing her throat, Thea took hold of Arienn’s journal, and wordlessly slid it into Kelsey’s hands. Her queen examined it quizzically, turning curious eyes on her.
‘‘It’s something I planned to give you—after tomorrow, but really, I don’t need it anymore.’’
Kelsey nodded, slowly fanning through the journal’s pages; it was written entirely in Refarian, and she traced a sentence with her fingertip, struggling to translate. Still, Thea was astounded at her growing mastery of their language. ‘‘You’ll be able to read that in no time,’’ she observed.
‘‘But what is it, Thea? I don’t understand—it looks really old.’’
‘‘It was written about two hundred years ago.’’
‘‘Is it a historic text or something?’’ Kelsey extended the journal back to her as if it was a hot strake stone and she didn’t want to be scalded.
Gently, Thea pushed her hand away. ‘‘You need it, Kelsey—really need it, both of you. It belonged to Prince Arienn, his journal.’’
‘‘The one who seeded his essence into the mitres?’’ Kelsey’s bright, intelligent eyes lit with understanding.
‘‘He was a D’Aravni, and he took a human mate—nobody knows that, by the way. Only me.’’
‘‘And you’re sharing that knowledge with me?’’ Kelsey whispered in appreciation.
Again, Thea cleared her throat, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. ‘‘I think there’s a lot of good information in there, Kelsey—things that will help you with’’—she coughed awkwardly—‘‘well, your procreation issues.’’
Kelsey clutched the diary against her chest, avoiding Thea’s gaze. ‘‘I see,’’ she answered quietly.
‘‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, what you’re facing with Jared.’’
‘‘No, I’m freaking mortified. You aren’t going to be able to recast that.’’
‘‘Arienn and his human mate struggled too—but they conceived a child.’’
Kelsey
turned tear-filled eyes on her. ‘‘You’re not serious?’’
It wasn’t an expression that Thea entirely understood, but she nodded vigorously. ‘‘I am entirely serious.’’
Kelsey’s face crumpled and her tears fell freely. ‘‘I’ve been so terrified . . . that . . .’’ She shook her head, wiping wordlessly at her tears.
Thea turned until her knees pushed into Kelsey’s. ‘‘I’m intuitive, Kelsey,’’ she told her firmly. ‘‘He will cycle. And you will conceive a child together.’’
Her queen bowed her head then, saying nothing for a very long time. Thea had to smile to herself; Kelsey had come to give her blessing on the union, but what her queen had wound up bestowing was something far more precious—a moment of pure trust and friendship. It was something she’d known so little of during her life.
And it gave Thea a wondrous, expectant feeling about her wedding day.
Really, the painkillers meant shit. A crude human word, but one that Scott found to be pointedly accurate. Meshdki, he corrected. The drugs meant meshdki.
There, man, he thought, keep yourself true to your own people. Gods above, he’d even begun to think like the human species.
The medics were maintaining a safe perimeter around him anyway, seeing as how every time they appeared at his bedside he cursed them in low Refarian. Oh, he would likely mend—that’s what his doctors had reported, and although he believed them, the facts provided very little comfort. Not while he lay here, flat on his back, counting the ceiling tiles as the war waged on—and his best friend fought without him by his side.
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