by Tami Lund
She slipped out from under his arm, needing that small bit of distance between them. Otherwise, she was more likely to try to attack him than to talk reasonably with him. By the lights, she had it bad for the shifter. If he so much as suggested it, she suspected she would mate with him in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, she was fairly certain he did not feel the same way.
“He came to speak to me.”
“He drugged you, Cecilia. Or have you forgotten already?”
“I didn’t forget,” she said, shaking her head. “But he apologized. And he was sincere. He said he needed to tell me something about my parents…” It occurred to her that he’d never gotten to that point of the conversation.
“He proposed to you.” Finn was so angry, she could feel his rage, like it was inside her. Was Samuel’s visit really something to be so upset over?
“What is your problem? You’re acting like—like I did something wrong.”
“For all we know, he’s the enemy.”
“Samuel? No way. Besides…” Besides, he’d just asked her to be his mate, not attempted to kill her. Finn was wrong.
“Besides what?”
“He thinks he only has my best interests at heart.”
“Is that what you call it?” Finn sneered. “Best interests? He wants to fuck you, Cecilia,” he said ruthlessly. “Just like I do. He wants you for himself. Is that what you want? Would you rather be in his bed than in mine?”
Cecilia gave him a bewildered look, even as her heart clenched so tightly she was almost certain it would burst. There it was. He’d said it. He didn’t want her for anything more than to warm his bed. It wasn’t even making love to him. It was just fucking.
She blinked rapidly, tears suddenly threatening, and she took several steps away from him, until her heel bumped into the wall. She paused for the space of two heartbeats, and then she fled from the room.
* * * *
Her emotions were all over the place, high and low, ebbing and flowing, fluctuating and shifting. The only thing she didn’t feel was happy. Finn knew this because he could feel her emotions, and it was making him nuts.
Was it because he’d interrupted Samuel’s proposal? Had she really intended to accept? Didn’t she care for Finn in the least? Everything they had, everything they’d done together, everything she meant to him, and she would so easily walk away from it all?
It wasn’t even about the fact that he’d saved her life so many times over the course of the last few months that he’d almost lost count. It was about how he felt. What she was to him. What he wanted her to be—forever.
You knew, he reminded himself. He knew she didn’t feel the same. How many times had she said she didn’t want a mate? How many times had she talked about one-night stands? How many times had she insisted she wasn’t at that point in her life? And he’d stupidly ignored all the signs, ignored her words, and plunged forward anyway, all but handing her his heart on one of the queen’s ornately carved silver platters.
What a fool. What an idiot. What a fucking dumbass he’d been. Shaking his head in self-disgust, Finn wrenched the door open and strode out into the chilly sunlight. He needed to get away from her. He needed to put distance between himself and Cecilia. He needed to figure out how to mend his broken heart.
Chapter 17
Breakfast was done. Lunch had been served. The early afternoon snack was done, the remains cleaned up and put away. Carley’s shift in the kitchen had come to an end. She felt both relieved and admittedly fearful.
While she’d been cleaning up after lunch, Tanner and Finn had appeared in the kitchen. She’d refused to stop doing her chores as they questioned her, asking endless questions, most of which she didn’t know how to answer.
“I don’t know,” she said more often than not.
But she suspected a great deal more than she would admit to them. She knew she couldn’t tell them. She was too frightened. They might be able to protect Olivia and the king and queen and possibly even Cecilia, but they couldn’t protect her. She was in too deep.
In truth, she was more frightened of her mate than she was of anyone else, and there were plenty of scary Lightbearers and potentially frightening shifters in her life at the moment.
She vividly recalled the first night she’d lain with her new mate. She’d been absolutely petrified, having no previous experience with the act of coupling with another. Miguel had ruthlessly taken her innocence, utterly lacking in gentleness, and it hurt so badly she’d cried for an hour afterward. As soon as the tears dried, he’d wanted to do it again.
That pretty much summed up their entire relationship.
Miguel was one of that small faction of Lightbearers who strongly believed Lightbearers should only mate with their own kind. Ever since Olivia mated with a shifter, Miguel and the rest had banded together even more tightly, and were so organized now that they were actually having regular meetings.
Carley didn’t attend the meetings, because Miguel didn’t want her to know too much, on the off chance that the shifters at the beach house got wind and started questioning her—like today.
This was just fine with Carley, since she didn’t hold to their beliefs anyway. The one time she’d made the mistake of saying as much to Miguel, he’d tossed her down onto the bed on her stomach, and then he was on top of her, pushing into her, ruthlessly taking her, despite her protests, just as he always did. Except that time he kept saying, “How does it feel, Carley? You like it like this? You like the idea of being fucked like an animal?”
She didn’t like being fucked at all, because every time was with Miguel, and there was literally nothing about it that felt good to her. It was just another aspect of her life that she suffered through because what else could she do? Run away? Leave the coterie and put herself at the mercy of the shifters? She’d not once in her entire life stepped outside the protective wards surrounding the village. She had no earthly idea what she would do if she did.
More than once she’d considered going to Cecilia for help, or at the very least, advice. She had no one to talk to, no girlfriends with whom to share her secrets, her fears, even her happiness, on the rare occasion she felt such an emotion. She and Cecilia were related, distantly, through some cousin or another. Despite that connection, she did not know Cecilia well, and they were not of the same class at all, and while Carley envied the clearly happier Lightbearer, she was far too intimidated to broach a subject so private as her desire to run away from the life she hated more and more with each passing day.
And now she had a far bigger problem on her hands, one that complicated her situation all the more. She pressed her palm to her flat belly and sucked in the cold wintery air. She’d had Alexa confirm it only that morning, but she’d known already, known for days, over a week. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that even if the act was not done in love, it could still produce life. The idea that she was carrying Miguel’s babe in her womb made her even more nauseous than the fact that she was pregnant did.
As the shifters questioned her with far more gentleness than her mate had ever shown, Carley felt a terrible compulsion to admit everything. Tell them what she knew, put her fate into their hands. Her fate, and that of her unborn babe.
The secret meetings. The leader who called himself the Chosen One. Her suspicion that they were planning something, some way to destroy the shifters who now lived in the coterie. Those accidents that kept happening to Cecilia—Carley was fairly certain the Chosen One was behind them. She’d only met the mysterious hooded Lightbearer a handful of times and did not know his identity, but Miguel talked reverently about him all the time. From what Miguel said, Carley was certain the man was capable of attempted murder against the innocent Lightbearer.
But she wasn’t so innocent, was she? Carley knew it for certain, since she’d walked in on Cecilia and the shifter named Finn—the one Carley had warmed to the most, because he’d been so darn nice to her—while they’d been engaged in a sexual act
that looked far more interesting than anything she’d ever done with Miguel. And Cecilia had been enjoying herself—immensely. Whereas Carley simply endured the act until it was over—or worse, cried when it hurt so much because she was raw and dry and Miguel forced himself upon her anyway—Cecilia had been an active participant and the noises she made had most definitely not been cries of pain or distress.
Each day that she returned home from her shift at the beach house, Miguel had taken to questioning her about what she’d seen or overheard there. He fancied that she was an inside spy, even though she always insisted she’d not heard or seen anything out of the ordinary. She knew he wanted to be able to take some bit of news to his precious Chosen One, and Carley wanted no part in helping their cause.
“That’s a lie,” he’d sneered one evening. “I know the king’s daughter is fucking that shifter. She’s carrying his babe in her belly.”
“Well, it isn’t like they do it in the kitchen,” Carley had replied, even though she’d heard that was exactly what they’d done, just the previous day.
She didn’t tell him about Cecilia and Finn. Despite the fact that they were not close, Carley still felt a sense of loyalty to the woman who was her distant cousin. And Finn had never been anything but nice to her. He loved her cooking, and had, in fact, come to her defense when Miguel had been berating her in her own kitchen, in front of her own staff. Whereas her mate made her feel like something dirty on the bottom of his boot, Finn made her feel … special.
How could she possibly say anything that might harm him or Cecilia?
Miguel’s questioning was what she feared the most at the moment. After what Tanner and Finn put her through, she wasn’t sure she had enough strength left to stave off her insistent mate. It was a sickening thought, but as she trudged home through the snow, she actually considered luring him into bed upon her arrival, just so she could avoid the inquisition.
Unfortunately, as always seemed to be the case, the events in Carley’s life didn’t work in her favor.
Miguel wasn’t alone when she arrived home. In fact, there was a rather large gathering of Lightbearers in her living room, all Miguel’s cronies, all followers of the Chosen One.
He was there too, seated on her couch, while everyone else stood around him. No one else was seated. As if they were all anticipating doing his bidding.
He wore a hooded cape tugged low over his face. She could see nothing more than his mouth and clean-shaven chin. The rest was hidden in the shadows of his hood. It was red, a brilliant crimson, the color of fresh blood. It covered his body and pooled on the carpet at his feet. The hem was wet, presumably from being dragged through the snow, the darkened stain inching up the cape, giving Carley an even stronger impression of blood.
“Er, hello,” Carley said uncertainly, and for the briefest of moments, she considered turning around and bolting out the door. Between the pregnancy, working all day, and Finn and Tanner’s questioning, she wasn’t sure she had enough energy left to make it back up the stone steps to the beach house, but she was sorely tempted to try.
Miguel took advantage of her hesitation and stepped up next to her, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and holding her securely. There was no escaping now.
“This is my mate, Chosen One,” Miguel said with reverence in his voice. Reverence Carley knew was for the seated man, not her. “She is only a few minutes later than I promised.” He sounded as if he were desperate to please the man in the hooded cape. Carley fancied that if he were half that desperate to please her, she might not dislike sex nearly so much.
“The snow,” she explained, fighting to keep her voice from wavering. “It makes the steps treacherous. I had to go slowly.” No one had given her a reason to be frightened, as of yet, but she was. Petrified.
The man in the hooded cape spoke. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. Everyone in the room hung on his words with rapt attention.
“Understandable,” he said in his whispery voice. “We wouldn’t want you to injure yourself coming home, Carley. Especially not today. We understand you have news to share. News we are eager to hear.”
Carley stiffened, and Miguel tightened his hold on her arm. Oh no! What did they know? What did they think she knew?
“I—I don’t have any news,” she stammered. “Th-the last party was a success. Olivia and the babe in her womb are both hale and healthy. Th—they are designing a nursery. Th-that’s all.” All news they should be aware of already, and if they weren’t, none of it was particularly harmful to Olivia or her family. So Carley hoped.
But when she commented that mother and babe were healthy, there was a collective hiss around the room, indicating she’d said something to displease the masses. The hooded man held up his hand and the room fell silent.
“Temporarily,” he said. “The babe growing in the king’s daughter’s belly is a monstrosity. If it does not die in her belly, it will die soon after birth,” he predicted ominously.
“It is the truth,” he affirmed, as if those words alone made it so. When Carley looked around the room, she could see that every one of the followers believed him. Even Miguel. Especially Miguel.
She willed her hand not to stray to her own abdomen, as it did almost constantly these days. She had not yet informed her mate that she was carrying his babe in her belly, and she had no desire to do so with an audience—especially this audience.
“I understand the shifters were in the beach house kitchen today, Carley,” the hooded man said smoothly, his voice low and soft.
“They are everyday,” she said, trying for lightness. “They are bottomless pits, and are forever searching for snacks.”
He didn’t buy it.
“That isn’t why they were in your kitchen today, Carley.”
She hated the way he said her name. It made her feel like he was cursing her. She struggled not to wince each time.
“They have grown suspicious. They have figured out that Cecilia’s accidents were not accidents after all,” he commented.
Carley did wince at that one. Poor Cecilia, what had she ever done to these people?
“Do not feel sorry for the foolish woman,” the hooded man said, his voice raised ever so slightly. Carley had the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow able to read her thoughts. It was something she had never known was possible.
“She made her own choices. Her family did their best to train her to choose the right path, and she continually defied them. Samuel,” he barked, the sound causing half the inhabitants of the room to jump in surprise.
Samuel stepped out from behind a cluster of Lightbearers, looking every bit as frightened as Carley felt.
“Well?” the hooded one asked, speaking once again in his soft, soft voice.
Samuel’s gaze darted nervously around the room. It briefly locked with Carley’s before shifting away again, but not before she saw it: guilt. What had he done?
“She’s chosen the shifter,” Samuel confirmed. “I asked her to be my mate and she refused. Well, she didn’t exactly refuse…more like he stepped in and refused to let her answer. But she didn’t stop him. And he admitted that they’re sleeping together. Cecilia and—and the ginger-haired shifter.”
The Chosen One’s reaction was peculiar, at least to Carley. He became angry, visibly shaken, leaping to his feet and storming to the window, then pacing from one end of the room to the other. Magic shimmered in his wake, trailing behind him like a train of sparks. As he walked, the other Lightbearers in the room parted to let him pass, and then closed ranks again, only to have to shift apart to let him walk by again.
On his third pass, he reached out and grabbed Carley’s arm, so that she was caught between him and her mate, and neither was looking at her with any amount of sympathy or warmth.
“Is this true?” he asked, his voice an angry whisper.
“H-how would I know?” she stammered. She didn’t understand why it angered the man so that Cecilia or Olivia or anyone for that matter was s
leeping with a shifter. To Carley, they were not very different from Lightbearers, other than their magic manifested in a different way and they strongly preferred her meat-based dishes over the vegetarian ones.
She supposed that in general, they were larger than Lightbearers and slightly more intimidating. Although maybe not. She shrank away from the hooded man’s bitter scowl.
“You see them every single day,” he whispered. “Cecilia spends more time in that beach house than she does in her own home. And you just said those shifters are forever in your kitchen, filching our food.”
“They don’t filch the food,” she argued. “I give it to them.” And why shouldn’t she? There was plenty to go around, now that Tanner was in charge. He’d had a greenhouse built, so she could grow fresh vegetables all year round. He’d purchased livestock from the humans, and already the cows and pigs and sheep were breeding, the herds growing, the ability to provide sustenance increasing with each passing month. And they were excellent hunters, forever bringing her fresh game from the woods surrounding the beach house, or giant salmon and trout from the lake. It was because of the shifters that she was able to create the fabulous meals she offered each day. She would never deny them when they came calling, telling her how much they loved her lamb chops or grilled duck breasts or the steaks she seasoned with her special rub.
The Chosen One’s hand twisted around her arm, his calloused palm burning the skin. She made a noise of pain, and her hateful mate didn’t even react. Probably because he was used to that sound. He heard it nearly every time they had sex.
She resisted another urge to flatten her palm against her belly. She had no inkling how Miguel would react to the news that he was to be a father. They’d never discussed having children. They’d never really discussed much of anything, in truth.
“Why were they questioning you today?” Miguel demanded. She wondered who in the beach house was a snitch. Was it one of her under-chefs? Or another servant? So many Lightbearers wandered in and out of her kitchens, it could be damn near anyone.