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She thought of her son’s gentle side. It had been a long time since he showed any sort of susceptibility. Like his father, Christian despised appearing weak. “Love is vulnerable. It weakens us and leaves us open to pain and injury.”
Her mind went to her mate. The cruel bastard had meant to punish her for reasons she still didn’t understand, conditions far beyond her control. He never loved her, but he believed he owned her and he resented the meager care she required.
“Christian’s stronger than you realize, Adriel. He might be the youngest elder on The Council, but he’s patient and wise beyond his years. Give them space to work through their trials. Have faith that you raised an honorable male. I say this to you, not because you’re my friend, but because Christian is also one of my most trusted confidants. I would not assign such a label to someone I didn’t trust to act honorably in all things.”
Her eyes closed. Eleazar was right. Her son was a male of honor and morality. He would not cross that line.
So much past trauma had come to the surface since discovering Dane was Christian’s half-brother. Adriel struggled to take comfort in the illusions that once made her feel safe. And her worry for her own safety was infecting her thinking. “Has there been any word from your informants overseas?”
“Nothing yet.”
She wrung her hands in her apron. “He’s not there. I can feel it in my bones. I sense his closeness.”
“He’s had centuries to consider his actions. Perhaps he’s learned his lesson.”
She shivered, recalling the way her mate screamed when they tore off his limbs. Those horrific howls had haunted her for a hundred years. It had been a long time since the memories stopped, but since learning of Dane’s heritage, she’d been on edge.
“It weakens me to guard my thoughts so diligently.” She feared letting down her guard for even a second, unsure how close Cerberus was to her at any moment. “If he finds that mental thread, he’ll find me.” Perhaps he already had. Dane was of her mate’s seed and the boy never lived more than ninety miles from the farm.
“The Order will protect you,” Eleazar reminded, but she’d heard similar promises before.
“If he finds me, I can only hope he kills me once and for all. I’ll never live through that again.” She couldn’t.
“He won’t find you.” More empty promises.
Two centuries older than Eleazar, Cer had abilities far beyond any other immortal of that time. Matings were not so organized in those days. There were no ledgers of record, no ceremonies of commitment. Once males were called, they hunted and took what was rightfully theirs without question.
Adriel dreamt of her mate years before he laid claim to her life. The dreams were clear but sporadic. Sometimes months would pass without a single vision. She’d resented the time it took him to find her, but looking back she wished it had taken longer.
Once Cerberus claimed her, she never saw her family again. She’d give anything to have those final moments back, but they were long gone, lost in time, and faded beyond recognition from her memory.
Recalling Cerberus’s long wavy hair and piercing amber eyes, she shivered. Adriel had been such an idealistic and gullible girl, so naive to the oppression of claimed females during those times.
She’d anticipated her mate’s arrival with great hope. Foolishly fluttering about the village, woolgathering, she anxiously waited for her true mate to arrive, thinking she was better than the other females, privileged beyond measure because God had chosen her for such a fine-looking male. He was to be her greatest love, her savior, and her purpose until the end of time.
“Adriel, come down from there and help me with your brothers,” the echo of her mother’s call brought a faded vision of the woman who raised her.
Though she couldn’t recall the color of her mother’s hair or the shape of her face, Adriel remembered the impatience in her voice and the cries of the squalling babes perched on each hip. The children were her siblings, but she had no memories of their names. She was lucky to recall her own name after all she’d endured during that time.
She looked once more toward the open horizon and sighed. “Coming, Mommá.”
Lowering from the crossbeam of the thatched roof where she’d been knotting hay into the straw gable, Adriel’s feet landed on the dirt ground with barely a sound. She’d been mending the roof since the dreams began, expecting the sight of her mate any day.
Often, she’d imagine him riding into their village on horseback, hair wild and windblown. He’d dismount and come to her, relieved and pleased as he claimed what was his with a passionate kiss.
But it had been a fortnight and there was still no sign of him. She feared for his life, worrying he’d run into some ill-fated trouble on his journey to reach her.
