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I wanted no more of it.
“Yes. Of spring, I believe,” I finally answered. “Because of the enormity of what had happened, I never got the chance to ask her questions about what she was and all that. I wish that I had.”
“And Demos,” he said his name with a slight bite, “asked for her aid in getting you away from the envoy?” At my nod, he continued. “So he knew her. Friends with an elemental, for Ongar’s sake.” He shook his head and tossed back his drink before setting it down. “Sounds like Demos is more than what he portrays himself to be, even more so than what he’d already admitted to. I don’t like it.”
I wanted to defend him, explain to Lucius that Demos was more than all that. Defend my love from Lucius’ implication that Demos was suspect, which I could tell was where his thoughts had landed him. “He is a good man, Lucius. I—I don’t know what his involvement is in all of that; honestly, I never really cared. But I know his heart.”
Lucius looked at me sharply, considering. “You still love him.”
Gods help me, I didn’t want to hurt him, but I nodded. “I will not lie to you. I do love him. And I want him in my life, Lucius. My heart is big enough to love you both.”
He blinked, his lips parting. He wasn’t expecting my declaration of love, I could tell. Neither one of us had said the word “love” when we were together, not once, and never out loud, only implied.
A wash of tenderness and need to touch him had me getting out of my chair and walking over to him. He uncrossed his legs and watched me silently with a look that held a warning. But I knew my mate. I knew he was vulnerable right now. That he disliked the fact that I had the power to destroy him if I chose, and he knew that I knew that. He knew I held his weakness. Me.
I crawled into his lap as he looked at me, his expression blank. But his eyes said he was only a pounce away from lashing out if need be. Carefully, I cupped his jaw. “I love you, Lucius. With all that I am. Never, ever doubt that.”
He swallowed, breathing deeply. “But I’m not enough for you,” he said, as if the words had been forced out of him without his volition.
“Oh, Lucius. You are more than enough.”
“I know I have no say in who you claim. That is an Omega’s right. But I…” He shut his eyes, not willing to show me his pain. “I admit, Demos is the better man. I—I don’t deserve—”
“Shh. My love for you will never be diminished. My heart is big enough for all three of you. I love you—”
He grabbed my wrist, stilling my hand that was touching his face, the tender moment fading out and becoming something more vigilant. “Three.” I heard the growl building inside him. “Who—Oh.” Underneath me, his body tensed like a bow readying an arrow. “Fadon,” he spat.
I pursed my lips. I had put off this conversation for long enough, and I was angry at myself for not bringing it up long before, which I should have done. “You know that Fadon was courting me. You know about the Fealty Agreement, how it changed because of Ander.”
His arms went around me now, his hold a tight band. “The Fealty means shit.”
Lucius rarely used profanity unless it was under the guise of passion—whether in anger or lust—so I knew the thought of sharing me with Fadon more than needled him.
His words were gruff as he said, “House Trajan is the reason why you are in this fuckery to begin with. How you can’t see that, I don’t know. They don’t deserve you, Sierra.”
“Why do you have so much animosity toward them? Why does it seem personal?”
His gaze blanked out, like a fire had been dowsed, but just as suddenly a new one burned, slowly rising into a pyre. “Because they are everything I despise. For centuries, they have modeled their reign after the kings and queens of Titus, all because of envy. Flaunting their wealth, their precious bloodline. Their titles more important than the bodies that wield them. What they’ve built has no room for change, Sierra. It’s stifling, and one day it will be their downfall. They keep one foot in the world of men and one foot in the old ways, never courageous enough to choose one or the other. The Ongahri have lost their edge because of their complacency, and when war comes, House Trajan will not be able to hold the center, not unless they swallow that Trajan pride that I want nothing more than to be snuffed out.”
The passion in his words, the abject conviction—and animosity—was shocking to me. This was Lucius the Chieftain, who had spent decades building his own empire of misfits, outlaws, and unwanteds. A title-less man with no name, no connections.
“Personal?” he continued, that fire stoking. “It is more than just personal. Do you think I’d be a leader if I joined House Trajan? Of course not. Only those born to it are. It’s disgusting how arrogant that is. Once upon a time, leaders were chosen for their merit, their strength and wisdom. Not their bloodlines. Look at Ander, Sierra. A prince, the Heir. Think he wants that title, wants to wear that mantle upon his shoulders one day if his sister meets an early death? He resents the fuck out of that role, something he knows he didn’t earn, something he didn’t ask for.”
Sadness touched my heart. “I had no idea Ander felt that way.” His life had been hard enough, and I never stopped long enough—nor had seen it play out, what his duty in House politics looked like—to consider that he resented the crown. Knowing him as I did now, though, it made perfect sense for him to feel that way.
Lucius lost some of his heat. “He does. He fucking hates it. Aside from us being friends, it was one of the reasons why I helped him when I’d heard he had to marry. That his sister made him agree to. That whole House burns me, Sierra.”
Lucius lifted me so that I had to straddle his lap. His forehead touched mine, his breathing harsh and quick. Our words had opened a door to a room that most times was kept shut with lock and key, or least with me, it was.
“I have no problem with the Servant, but… Fadon,” he growled. His hands went between us to undo his breeches. I rose up, caught in his desperation that was coming through the bond. Once his cock was freed, he bunched up my skirts, tore at the thin barrier that covered my sex, and pushed me down onto his hardness, holding me by the waist in a tight grip.
He was brutal with his thrusts, his eyes darker than midnight, his expression fierce, as if the threat of me being taken away from him was a living, breathing possibility at any moment. “You are mine. Forever, Sierra. No one is going to take you away from me, understand? No king, no queen, no prince. No one.”
Shuddering, I was lost to the tight, deep pleasure he was giving me, lost to his passion, his anger, his fear of losing everything that held him together. “I understand.”
“Say you're mine, Sierra. Say it.”
“I’m yours, Lucius,” I moaned. “Always.”
