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Romy gaped at her. “Holy shit, don’t you think you should have led with that?”
Cassia’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Andromeda Delecroix, watch your language.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Romy scowled. “But really, Dane’s comingtomorrow? Don’t you think I should’ve been given more than twenty-four hours to prepare?”
“No, I don’t,” Cassia said matter-of-factly. “It isn’t like you’re getting married tomorrow or even this year. You’ll have to meet him sometime. He is your Chosen.”
Her Chosen?
HerChosen?
No, notherChosen. The Coven’s Chosen. Romy had no choice in the matter whatsoever.
With a quiet and submissive nod, she blinked back tears. She wouldn’t let her mother see her cry.
CHAPTER5
as rough as they seem
The headquarters of the Preternatural Constabularies existed more as a museum than a place to conduct business. Located at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain, the museum was constructed purely of magic and housed more preternatural artifacts than anywhere else. Since fraternization was illegal, last night’s High Council meeting had been Romy’s only exposure to the other races. Ironically, her favorite places had always been the exhibitions involving lycans and vampires. And Alizon’s Dusk Gardens, which she planned to visit after the meeting.
Today, she went straight to the beginning of the lycan display and a mammoth white pelt with black guard hairs. Until now, she’d never noticed its name:Jonas Ragbulf. Packmaster of the Ragbulf Pack. Ancestor of Ylfa Ragbulf Rincewind.Silvan’s mother. Romy admired the colors of the coat, and as usual, her mind wandered to her lycan—the thickness of his fur. How dark it would be against her skin. How she’d like to watch him shift from the beast into the man. Would he retain his savageness? The bloodlust, the untamed ferocity? Would he devour her body? Feast on her flesh?
“They’re even more impressive up close and in person.” Romy’s Aunt Selene flanked her side. An almost mirror image of Cassia, the only marked physical variance was instead of the traditional cherry-red hue common to the Delacroixs, Selene’s hair was so black it was nearly purple. As far as other differences, like personality and demeanor, the two sisters couldn’t be more diverse. Romy’s mother was assertive and poised, demanding respect with a quiet but effective confidence, while Selene preferred to blend into the background. It was easy to see why Daphne altered the line of succession.
“Are they?” All Romy could think of was Silvan up close and personal.
“Mm-hmm. They aren’t as rough as they seem.”
Romy hoped her lycan was as rough as he seemed. His calloused hands palming her ass. His teeth nipping at her neck. The thought of him holding her down with his hard cock pressed firmly against her pussy was enough to drive her mad. Yet again, she had a problem between her legs. “You do a lot of PC business with the Rincewinds, don’t you?”
“When necessary, yes. Asa and I have a good professional relationship for the most part.”
“Do you know his son? Silvan?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she burned within. An ache only satisfied with a wolf. Maybe a vampire? A wolf and a vampire? Geez.
“Hmm. You mean the Neanderthal?” Selene grunted. “Asa has his hands full with that one.”
“What do you mean?” Edging closer, Romy wanted to hear everything she could about Silvan—the good and bad.
After a gesture to resume walking, Selene pointed at a wolf directly across from Jonas Ragbulf—a long and thin brown male. “What do you know of wolf history? Probably not much since this is the extent of your childhood exposure.”
“Right. I’ve always found it kinda dumb, actually. I mean, shouldn’t we get to know the other preternaturals because there’s safety within numbers.”
Selene smiled properly. “There’s safety within your coven, dear. Nowhere else. Though some believe otherwise.”
“Yeah…” Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so candid with Selene. The last thing she wanted was for any elders to question her ability to lead. Or did she? Romy was torn between her duty as high priestess-in-training and her desire to break free and run. Maybe even run with the wolves. “So you were saying about that wolf across from Jonas?”
“Einar Tyr. Leader of the Bloodmoons. Originally, they were the warrior wolves for the Ragbulf Pack, but Einar turned them into assassins. After murdering Jonas’s entire family and most of the pack, they attempted to murder Jonas. It was the single most bloody conflict in recent lycan history.”
Romy scrunched her nose. “What does that have to do with Silvan?”
Selene’s heels clicked on the marble floor, and she crossed her arms. “Silvan reminds me of Einar. His impulsivity. His savagery. His blatant disregard for your mother and the High Council.”
“How do you know?” she spat, a touch too defensively. Why did Romy care that her aunt compared Silvan to some ruthless wolf? Why did this lycan matter so much to her?
“Oh, just conversations in passing with Asa and the theatrics I’ve witnessed during past High Councils. But I digress… it’s time for today’s meeting.” Selene looked down at her watch. “And I believe we are right on time.”
When they reached the exit, Selene held open the door for Romy, and together they entered the boardroom. “After you, High Priestess…” she mused with a gleam in her eye.
