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Franklin Belloy is dead.
It’s been over a week since Jesse received the dreaded call that interrupted our date, and the king’s demise has remained a secret to everyone outside our inner circle. Only Jesse, Steph, Bernadette, Erik, Leif, and I know the truth. Jesse requested we keep it to ourselves, not because he wants to mourn in private, but because he wants to find his father’s murderer and bring him or her to justice before ascending to the throne and dealing with everything that comes with it.
If we weren’t certain there is a traitor in this household before, we are now. When Jesse and the Vikings examined Franklin’s body, they found a werewolf bite on his lower leg. It looked like it had been there for days, festering and killing him slowly while the rest of us were completely unaware.
Steph has continued with her training, and every day I sit and watch as she grows stronger and more confident in her powers. It truly is amazing how far she’s come in such a short period of time. She looks like she’s been practicing magic her whole life.
Jesse hasn’t been around much, leaving the Vikings to watch over us while he heads out to search for Steph’s father and twin sister. I’ve fallen asleep alone more nights than not, but I always wake to find him curled around me, holding me like the lifeline he so desperately needs.
As I blink the sleep from my eyes, I stretch my limbs before rolling over to face him. His eyes are open, and it pains me to see the helplessness in their dark depths. I pull him closer and bury my face in the crook of his neck, and his arms band tightly around me.
I’ve had something on my mind for days, but I’ve refrained from bringing it up because I don’t want to fill what little time we have together with darkness. But I can’t hold in my suspicions any longer.
“Have you seen Jasmine since your father’s passing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jesse tenses in my arms. “No. I haven’t seen her since the day she interrupted Steph’s training, spewing her venom.”
I lick my lips and clear my throat before forcing out the words that have been on my mind since we found out how Franklin died. “Jasmine is the traitor. She let in the witches to curse your father, and when we brought in Bernadette and Steph to find a way to heal him, she panicked and arranged for the werewolf to bite him.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” he says quietly, but there’s no fire in his tone.
Only regret and…acceptance.
“I feel it in my gut, Jesse. I know it’s her. I just don’t know why she’d go to such lengths. Franklin was her father, too.”
“Jasmine hates witches,” he says. “She would never work with them.”
Again, his voice is low and monotone. He’s playing devil’s advocate, trying to come up with some way to vindicate his sister, but I can tell deep down, he doesn’t believe she’s innocent of all this. He knows I’m right, whether he’ll admit it or not.
“When Shannon came here, pretending to be Steph, we caught them chatting like old friends in the kitchen. Remember? It was like they knew each other, catching up over a late-night snack. And when the real Steph showed up, Jasmine was nothing but hostile. We assumed Jasmine was playing nice with not-Steph to get under our skin, but what if we were wrong? What if they planned that meet-up to discuss their next move?”
“My father’s death doesn’t benefit Jasmine,” Jesse says slowly, like he’s trying to work out the answer to a riddle. “Why would she orchestrate all this if she gets nothing from it?”
“The spell that put him in a coma brought you home,” I reply, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I think she counted on that when she brought the witches in to curse him. And her resentment towards me has been painfully obvious. I messed up her plans. As your mate, I prevented her from reaching her ultimate goal––to marry you, herself, and become queen when you ascend to the throne.”
“That seems a little farfetched,” Jesse says, but I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. “Jasmine is my sister. We have no romantic feelings for each other.”
“It’s not about you, Jesse. It’s about power. If she made you king and convinced you to make her your queen, what would stop her from using the witches to get rid of you, too? Then she’d have all the power for herself. She’d make the laws, and could declare all humans fair game for vampires. Your kind would take over the world, and she’d be sitting at the top, ruling over everything and everyone.”
“But our mate-bond prevents that from ever happening. If she were to kill you, I’d never forgive her, and I would die, too, without giving her what she wants.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“So why bring in a werewolf to murder our father if she knows her plan has been thwarted?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “She’s vindictive, so maybe out of spite? Or maybe she’s pivoted. If you die, too, who takes the throne?”
“Jasmine,” he whispers, then his eyes snap into focus as he peers at me. “So why not just kill me? It would be much easier than trying to convince me to marry her, first.”
I shrug. “Because killing you both would throw suspicion on her. The vampires might not follow her dictates if they believe she murdered their king and his heir. If she’s your mate, she would be cast as the grieving widow, which would gain her sympathy and support. Especially if she made it look like a human murdered you.”
That last bit just came to me as I was speaking, but it makes total sense. The vampires would rally behind her if she made it look like humans killed their beloved new king.
“Jesse,” I say, cupping his cheeks between my palms, “promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” he promises. “I don’t know if you’re right about Jasmine’s motivations, but I do trust your gut feeling. If you think she’s the traitor in our midst, I believe you. And I’ll take care to watch my back.”
I nod slowly, and he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. Warmth spreads through me at that feather-light touch, and despite the seriousness of our conversation, my need spikes. We haven’t made love since we found out his father died, and Jesse hasn’t fed from me since well before that––when I passed out after our time in the shower.
