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That was fucking unacceptable.
Cross looked over at me, confused. “You’ve got a screw loose, mate. Did ol’ Daddy Belvedere fail to explain mating bonds to you, because it’s a bit late, but I suppose I could—”
I sent a shock of pain through his mind—not enough to truly damage him, but enough that he toppled backward off the bar, spilling his drink everywhere. I smiled.
That was what I should have done to the Lord of Inbetwixt’s stupid fucking son. Outside of a boxing match, I’d never once punched someone when I could have more easily used magic. I had no idea what came over me.
I found Lonnie in the crowd again. She’d stopped dancing, and this time, she seemed to feel my gaze. She looked up and met my eyes across the room. My vision narrowed in on a point, my heartbeat speeding up. Her wild curls of red hair were aflame around her face, her skin radiating like the sun with a brilliant glow. She was breathtakingly beautiful and dangerously tempting.
Cross climbed back up, scowling. “What the fuck was that for? That ale was expensive, I tell you.”
“You stole it.”
“Yeah, course. But it was expensive before I took it.” He looked incensed. “Don’t take out your issues on my merchandise.”
I ignored him.
If I had any issue currently, it was that tomorrow we’d have to return to the capital. Not only had we not made the progress I’d wanted, but now I’d have to find some way of explaining to Bael that I’d marked his mate. I wasn’t—
My thoughts stuttered to a halt, whatever I’d been thinking before fleeing my mind.
Lonnie had returned to the dance floor, her hair flying out around her like flames, her smile a bit too bright as Arson lifted her off her feet. He twirled Lonnie effortlessly in time with the music. I clenched my fists, feeling my heart twist as an unfamiliar surge of jealousy flooded my veins.
No. Absolutely fucking not.
Before I realized I was moving, I found myself standing beside them, catching her waist as Arson dropped her back down to the floor. She jolted in surprise, and when she looked up at me, I saw my reflection in her wide eyes.
“Are you going to dance with me?” she asked.
The word “dance” left her lips, and I instinctively flinched. My disdain for court dancing was well documented, so it wasn’t surprising that the idea of doing some unrefined line-dance filled me with dread.
But she’d said, “with me,” and I knew before I opened my mouth, there was no chance of denying her.
“You’re ruining me,” I said.
“What?” she yelled over the music.
I shook my head, saying nothing as she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her wild dance.
* * *
It wasthe third night of sharing a bed, but the first one where it felt like torture. Like a test and a punishment all at once, designed especially to ruin me.
Maybe she’d already ruined me, then, if this was too much to handle. Maybe I was well and truly destroyed because I was finding it hard to remember exactly what I disliked so much about her in the first place or why being with her would be so terrible.
Why should we be enemies when we would make such better lovers? Why fight when together we could rule?
Part of me wanted to ask her that—tell her—simply throw everything else aside and throw her down on the bed the moment she walked back into the room, but another far-too-rational part remembered all the reasons why that was the worst idea I’d possibly ever had.
I could probably write this off as a fleeting interest, spurred on by the blood and Ambrose’s influence. If he’d never mentioned marrying her, I never would have thought of it.
Yet, I argued with myself, I forbade anyone from harming her before I’d ever spoken to my brother. I’d spoken to him in the first place because I was conflicted about the upcoming hunt. Then, too, Lonnie had always been…attractive…beautiful, even. Not only for a human but generally.
Even when Bael was dragging her around, pale and trembling in that bright blue gown, during the feast before the first hunt. Even when she was drenched in blood and lying in the dirt on the forest floor. Even while dirty and starving after the dungeon…
I frowned, my chest aching slightly.
I’d never let myself feel guilty about that—not really. It was not about her; it was for the kingdom. Everything, always, for the kingdom, and if I admitted that I might be sorry…that I might have done something different if given the chance, then how many other things would follow? How many other decisions would look wrong in that light? Ruling was not supposed to be easy or pleasant, and people were often hurt for the greater good. To be worthy was to know that.
