by Ann Aguirre
Dom’s whole body hurt, and now his spirit did as well. He could only say, “You’re crap at communication. Use your words.”
“It wasn’t even me,” Slay said in a broken voice. “I didn’t give two shits whether Pru could shift. My mother just gave me so much grief when I mentioned a permanent bond… think of our bloodline and what about your status as second that I figured it wasn’t worth the drama. She can’t live forever, right? And that’s a fucking weak path to happiness, I know.”
“Pru thought you were playing with her,” he said.
Slay made a strangled sound. “I get that now, asshole. But… I wasn’t. There’s never been anyone else. I always planned to make her mine.”
“You can’t expect a woman to wait forever.”
“True. But… you and Pru, instead? You know that’s wrong. You fucking do know.” Some of Slay’s anger seemed to fade, leaving him weary-faced and with eyes full of despair.
Yeah. I know. But he wouldn’t acknowledge it aloud. He already felt enough like a thief, stealing happiness from someone who deserved it more. I had my shot. Now I’ve got his.
“Night, Slay.”
His second didn’t answer, so Dom left him in the darkened sparring room. He lacked the energy to check in with Magda tonight, but he took a quick look at the preparations on his way to their flat. The decorations were nearly done, wreaths hung, and the wintry air rippled with the sweetness of hothouse flowers. Hope those demonic bastards appreciate my people working all night.
But probably not. Because that was life, where selfish assholes thrived, beautiful women died in their living rooms, and Slay was weeping alone in the dark.
Meanwhile, Pru is waiting at home… for me.
Sometimes the world made no damn sense at all.
13.
The Golgoth prince had arrived at last.
As his convoy halted outside the gates, Pru smoothed her black dress. This time, the welcome party wasn’t hastily assembled, and the plaza by the gate shone with the preparations. At some point, they’d even laid down a red carpet, and the wreaths on the walls were woven carefully of basil, lavender, and violets chosen for their message of peace. Beside her, Dom waited with expectant tension. In addition to the official members of other factions, most of the pride had turned out to spectate. While Pru understood their interest, it was also nerve-wracking. The more bodies in this area, the more potential something could go wrong.
If she’d thought the Eldritch party was impressive, the Golgoth group put them to shame. Six vehicles parked outside the gate, larger than a Rover, and when the gate swung open, the Golgoth marched in formation, dark green uniforms contrasting to the snow-white suit their leader wore. Stories always painted the Golgoth as brutish and monstrous, but Prince Alastor was slight and angular with a mane of raven hair that he wore long and braided on the sides. Though his features lacked Eldritch sharpness, he was more delicate than the average Animari male.
Dom stepped forward, likely to keep Lord Talfayen from upstaging him. “Welcome to Ash Valley. You must be tired.”
“Only of traveling,” the Golgoth prince said. “It is good to have arrived.”
He exchanged greetings with Beren and Raff while Lord Talfayen seemed amused by something he didn’t share. That roused Pru to greater awareness, but despite the crowd, she spotted no trouble in the plaza. Everyone looked faintly disappointed that the Golgoth didn’t have horns or cranial ridges, but otherwise, the pride members present showed no signs of alarm.
Once the first wave of welcome passed, Pru offered a simple bow as she hadn’t found much on Golgoth customs, unlike the multiple volumes on Eldritch ways. “We have a number of activities planned later, but for now, I expect you’d like to freshen up and rest.”
“We would appreciate that.” The so-called demon prince promised to be much more affable than anyone had predicted, though it could be pretense.
“This way, please.”
The onlookers parted in an ocean of humanity, so Pru and Dom could guide the Golgoth visitors to the floor of the residential annex that had been cleared for their use. A number of families were now staying with relatives, and they’d also conscripted the empty flat where Dom used to live. That space, they offered to Prince Alastor, who made sure his men were all settled comfortably before heading to his own apartment. But it didn’t escape Pru that his face was wan and drawn, like his skin was too small for his bones.
“I hope this is sufficient,” Pru said, demonstrating the numeric pin.
Stepping inside, the prince took a cursory look around. A tremor quivered through one of his long fingers, which he swiftly hid by curling it into a fist. “Very spacious. Thank you.”
“There are no retainers staying with you?” Dom asked.
“I prefer my privacy when I’m afforded the opportunity.” A flicker of something in the prince’s gaze whispered of sadness.
“It sounds as if you don’t get much of it ordinarily,” Pru observed.
“Already trying to unravel my secrets?” With an inscrutable smile, the young Golgoth deflected with as much grace as she’d witnessed earlier. Yet he clearly wanted them gone. Soon she’d see a more tangible sign.
“Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need something. We’ve stocked the fridge with the necessities, but anything you desire will be made available,” Dom said.
“Anything?” For a moment, eyes like chips of ancient jade lingered on her, skimming down in a mockery of a compliment. “How generous.”
When Dom stirred, she put her hand on his arm and tugged him toward the door. Pru smiled over one shoulder as she opened it. “Rest well.”
“That bastard might be a little more civilized, but he’s still terrible,” Dominic snarled once they left the apartment.
Pru shook her head and hurried him out of the residential annex. “He was taking your measure, gauging your temper. And I admit, I’m startled by how quick you took the bait. He doesn’t actually want to fuck me as part of a feudal droit du seigneur.”
“That look was a bucket of disrespect.”
“No, it was desperation.”
“What do you mean?”
She wasn’t ready to put her suspicions into words yet. At the moment, she had only intuition, no evidence. “I’ll tell you more after the banquet. You just stay calm. That’s your specialty, remember?”
“I got it.” Dom dropped a kiss on her temple. “Now I’m off to entertain the rest of this diplomatic zoo. Any chance you’ll go with me?”
“Later. I should’ve checked on Eamon days ago.”
He inclined his head. “As pride matron or his friend?”
“Both. I try to stop in once a week.”
“Then don’t let me keep you. I’m sure Lord Talfayen desperately needs to complain about his mattress by now.”
Smiling, Pru headed off to the commissary to fill a basket with Eamon’s favorite snacks. He had been part of Ash Valley for almost five years, a recovered hostage who never healed enough to rejoin the pride fully. Sometimes she ached to ask what he’d seen and suffered in Golgoth hands, but he clammed up tighter than an oyster anytime she even skirted the subject. If he realized who had just arrived, he would probably be panicked.
She quickened her step, reaching the apartment a few minutes later. After she rang the bell, it took a couple of minutes for her to hear movement within. He’d look out the peephole first, then confirm it was safe to open the door via chain. Once Eamon completed that ritual, Pru heard him unbolting the seven locks that kept him safe. Inside, his flat was like a darkened lair with fabric on the walls and windows. Fortunately, shifting had enhanced her vision in the dark, and she was used to navigating the maze of furniture he’d built. Eamon was always thin, and he liked the dark to hide his scars. Sometimes she tried to imagine what he must have been like before he was taken: young, confident, and unbroken.
“I wondered when you’d come again,” he said, taking the goodies she offered.
“It
’s been busy. I’m sure you noticed some of the preparations.”
“How many strangers are in the hold?”
Though she hated the prospect of alarming him, lying would serve no purpose. “Around a hundred, all told.”
“The Golgoth arrived today.” It wasn’t a question. Eamon sank to the carpet, arms wound around the basket like it offered some protection.
“They’re not in the building with you,” she said.
“No, I know. You wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Neither would Dom.”
“He’s back, I hear?”
Curious, Pru cocked her head. “How did you know?”
“You’re not my only friend,” he chided. “Your cousin visits, and she couldn’t wait to tell me about your new role as pride matron. Is she still basking in your importance?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “Probably. I’m glad school is on winter break or I wouldn’t have enough hours in the day.”
“Will you keep teaching?”
“Definitely. I’d miss the kids if I gave it up.”
Pru told a few anecdotes about the students who had become Eamon’s favorites over the years, and by the third story, she had him laughing. Since he didn’t always, she counted the days he did a quiet victory. The pride counselor had come twice a week for a year until Eamon asked her to stop. He was working through it at his own pace, he said, and words had never been a friend to him. Over the next hour, she drank a cup of tea while he told her about a painting he was working on. In the time she had been visiting, Pru had never seen anything he’d created.
Eventually, like always, he said, “You must be busy.”
That had become a code between them. It wasn’t that Pru had other matters to attend, more that Eamon wanted her to go, but he didn’t wish to be rude.
So she always agreed. “It’s a circus out there. You wouldn’t believe how the work piles up. Do you feel like a hug?”
“Pass. I’m a little spidery. But thanks for the offer.”
And as always, sadness swept her when she stepped out of his domain and heard the repeated clicks that meant he had locked the world out. Again.
Dom couldn’t remember if he’d ever consciously thought this before, but his mate was beautiful. No, not just beautiful. Breathtaking. When she stepped out of the bedroom in a bronze and black dress, his heartbeat notched up. She’d pinned her hair up to show the graceful line of her neck, and he immediately wanted to kiss that soft skin. Her lips were frosted like a caramel cupcake, and she’d dusted on some kind of glittering powder, so her skin looked sun-kissed, and her eyes, oh damn. He’d seen mountain streams that sparkled less.
“Should I change?” With a quiet frown, she tugged at her dress.
Hell. She thinks silence means disapproval.
“You look phenomenal.”
“Really?” Seeming pleased, Pru twirled, so that the skirt belled about her thighs.
“I’m a little worried about taking you out of the apartment,” he teased. “Rioting will start, and I’ll have to duel villains who want to steal you.”
“Idiot.” But from the flush rising in her cheeks, she didn’t mind.
“Ready to head to the hall? We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”
“I’m set.”
“No jacket?”
“I don’t have one that goes with this dress, so I’d rather suffer.”
Dom gave her a look, but Pru wouldn’t budge. He hadn’t realized she had even a narrow streak of vanity, so this was unexpected and adorable. As they stepped out, her arm brushed his, and it took a second for him to grasp that there was no problem that required his attention; she just wanted to hold hands. The sweet simplicity of it arrowed straight to his heart as he laced their fingers together. Immediately, the nerves that the stress of the day had rubbed raw smoothed out, leaving him calm and focused.
The bond’s set. It would be hard to send her to Slay now, even if I wanted to. And I don’t.
“I won’t let you,” he said.
“What?”
“Suffer.”
With that, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was cold enough he could see their breath coming in white puffs as they hurried across the plaza to the hall, where pride staffers were finishing up the arrangements. White fabric banners draped the beams overhead, red flowers on each table, candles—this wasn’t his forte, but from his mate’s approving inspection, he guessed that the decorators had hit the mark.
“We’re early.” Pru beamed up at him, appearing to guess he hadn’t tampered with her clock settings.
As quirks went, it was a harmless one. So if she preferred to live ten minutes ahead of schedule, he could adapt. “It’s served me well before. Everything seems to be in order?”
She glanced around once more. “It looks fantastic. Let me check with the musicians and make sure they’re all set.”
Pru spent the last few minutes rushing around while Dom watched in baffled admiration.
“She’s a manager,” said Slay.
Before Dom could respond, the first guests arrived. Predictably, it was the Eldritch entourage. The red-eyed Noxblade caught his gaze long enough to convey that he wanted to talk, but this wasn’t the time or place. Dom lifted his chin faintly in acknowledgment. With any luck, the assassin could read a room and deduce that there would be a better opportunity.
For the first hour, he greeted the arriving guests in a formal reception line, along with Magda, Caio, and Slay. Pru played her role to perfection, offering a smile or a friendly word, even for the visiting guards stationed along the walls in an impressive display of martial prowess. Since they weren’t allowed to drink on duty, Pru kept them supplied with a steady stream of sparkling water and fresh juice. More than once, he noticed an overly interested gaze following her movements around the room.
Dinner can’t be served soon enough.
At least when everyone took their assigned seats, Pru was next to Dom as a matter of course, but she had Prince Alastor on her other side. The Golgoth asshole touched her five times—arm, hand, shoulder, hand, arm—Dom knew, because he was counting. None of it was brazen enough to constitute an offense, but he still felt like taking Alastor’s head off. Beneath the table, he curled his left hand into a fist as Pru’s cousin, Joss, took the stage, a gilded lily in a gold dress. Her performance wasn’t meant to inhibit conversation, but when she started the song, competing voices fell silent one by one.
Dom flashed a startled look at Pru, who offered a smug smile. “Told you she’s good.”
“A mere word like ‘good’ does her a disservice,” the Golgoth prince whispered.
Though he didn’t know much about music, Dom had to agree with him. Joss had a mournful, sultry sound that riveted pretty much every listener in the hall. When she finished, thunderous applause rang out. Her smile flirted with the whole room as she began the next number, this one more upbeat and joyous.
He leaned over to ask Pru softly, “Did you arrange this?”
“Of course. You put me in charge of entertainment, and Joss thrives in the spotlight. The orchestra will play after her set. Dinner should be done by then, and there will be dancing.”
“I hope you’ll honor me,” Alastor said.
Pru accepted the offer before Dom could shut that shit down. Diplomacy was not supposed to include watching other men handle his woman. To keep from objecting, he clenched his jaw so hard he could barely eat any of the food on his plate. Halfway through the meal, Beren managed to start a conversation that didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. With liberal applications of wine, he thought he might survive.
Until the dancing started.
Prince Alastor rose with a flourish and offered his hand to Pru. Watching her go off with the pride’s greatest enemy, Dom felt ten kinds of complicated. In his head, he heard battle cries, a thousand dead warriors protesting that pale hand on the curve of her waist.
Slay came up behind him to snarl, “You’re lettin
g that happen?”
“Keep smiling. Ask one of the Golgoth ladies to dance.”
His second showed teeth but did as he was told. Likewise, Dom made nice, circulating to partner pride mates and visitors alike. Pru proved popular, and he barely saw her for the next hour as she circled the floor multiple times with Alastor, Beren, Raff, and even Talfayen himself. If that red-eyed Noxblade made a move, Dom would probably start a brawl.
“You’re staring a strip off her,” Magda muttered as they twirled. “Relax, she knows what she’s doing. And everything’s proceeding well so far. She’s gathering good intel.”
Apart from minor dustups between guard forces, the banquet had gone better than expected. Pru had worked wonders on the seating chart, lacing pride members and esteemed guests, separating those who were likely to conflict. And now everyone had drunk enough to find each other amusing. Over the security chief’s shoulder, he saw the Noxblade—Gavriel, he thought Pru had said—dancing with Joss.
Under the best of circumstances, he didn’t enjoy formal events. Tonight resonated with a special sort of torture, however, because he kept waiting for someone to keel over with poison in their drink. I’m looking at you, Eldritch. Historically, the Golgoth tended to be brutal, so he was also alert for the shimmer of a blade. Everyone had been scanned for weapons as they entered the hold, but there were always methods to smuggle them inside.
Or they could be ceramic or composite—
No, it’s going well.
Several hours in, Dom settled at a table with Beren and Raff, letting people come to him. Pru was still dancing, and it rankled that he hadn’t partnered her even once. You assholes know she’s mine, right? Trying not to look as pissed as he felt, he started a card game, dealing in the wolf and bear lords. Eventually Magda joined, along with two Golgoth, and an Eldritch guard.
Two hands, three. He won one, lost two. It seemed like forever before his mate came to check on him. With her, she brought a whisper of sweat, other males, and a dying echo of her goat milk soap. It took all his control to focus on his hand instead of dragging her off to scrub her down, so she only smelled of him.
