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Dragons had once roamed the Earth.
He supposed they still did.
He knew what it meant to feel trapped by circumstance, though. He disliked the idea that he was adding to that for her, but there was no better solution at hand. End of the day, the blame didn’t lie with him, but with Gregor, and ultimately with her making poor, uninformed choices for herself.
The interior of the house had been designed by the finest craftsmen of their era. The wood panels sumptuously carved, the gilt details restored once every decade, whether they needed it or not, all of the original fittings still where they’d been the day he first moved into the place.
“What do you think of the house?” he asked as they reached the main staircase.
It looked like something out ofGone with the Wind, broad and steep. He’d always liked the dramatic impression it made on first-time visitors. A large, stained window depicting a dragon in flight over a vast, mountainous landscape sat on the first landing, where the staircase parted, creating U where either side led to the second floor. The window was lit from the outside, every detail visible even in the dead of night. He could tell her eyes roamed it before she merely shrugged.
He smirked.
“You love it,” he teased, getting a scowl from her, though her face split in a smile the second before she turned her cheek to hide it.
It made him feel oddly good that she didn’t hate the space. It would have been more difficult to ask her to make it her home if she absolutely detested it. He wondered what her apartment looked like. Where did she live?
“Not a huge fan of big houses,” she said, earnestly. “I grew up in one that made me feel like I was living in the Vatican City, completely closed off from all other life.”
“Not sure the Vatican is exactly closed off from all other life.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “There’s an isolation to this place.”
“It’s safe,” he remarked, tone light, getting another look from her.
He huffed a laugh, making her shake her head.
“That’s not the kind of safety I’m after,” she said.
“Oh, and what kind of safety are you after?” he inquired.
“The free kind,” she replied, a tinge of sharpness to her meaningful tone.
His smile faltered.
They reached the second-floor landing, heading down another broad corridor, gently lit by lamps stood at even intervals, placed on handmade tables with hand-carved marble tabletops. Would she find them pretty or over the top? He realized he was becoming critical of their surroundings and stopped himself abruptly from assessing the color of the carpet at their feet, wondering if she would have preferred red to the lighter teal he’d chosen.
“It’s a nice house,” she offered, following him up to one of the doors flanking the corridor, walking through it when he held his hand out in encouragement. “Oh, wow,” she added at the sumptuous queen size bed and the muted lilac running through the interior. “This is beautiful,” she said, eyes back in his. “Really. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said.
“A mating bond is for life,” she said, making him pause. “Are you sure you want to bind yourself tome?”
“I think it’s the most effective way to—”
She threw her head back and laughed. He felt like reaching for her hand, get her close, so that when she looked at him again their noses would be almost touching, and he’d have her body heat mingling with his own.
He narrowed his eyes against the sudden thought, glaring it out of his head.
She was still smiling when she looked back at him.
“If anyone had told me three hours ago that this was how I was going to end up spending my evening…”
She trailed off. He chuckled, low, at the back of his throat. He knew women tended to respond to it, as well as the way his shoulders filled out his shirts and the way his hips dipped into an inviting V; but what would she respond to? Why did he want her to? Why was he suggesting they bind themselves to each other? She was attractive. He was attracted to her. Surely this wasn’t mere desire clouding his judgment making up some sort of excuse to get her in his bed. Surely, he could seduce her without having to go to such lengths.
No, this was about the family name. It was about avoiding a scandal and a potential threat to their lives. This was about something much bigger than how that glitter in her eyes kept making him want to lean in and listen to anything she would most certainly have to say about everything.
If she didn’t want him to, though, she would have to be dealt with it. There was nothing more for it. He had to decide where to send her and who should take her. He couldn’t spare Misha, but Lars might be a solid pick. He wouldn’t risk anything, and he’d treat her with the respect she deserved. Would she be entirely safe? Most likely not.
