Fangs with a Heart

by Tempeste O'Riley

“I am not.” No way was this cat going to con him into leaving his fated heart! Not happening. Ever.

  “Of that I have no doubt. Keith would never allow you to abuse Trace, nor do I actually believe Trace would let you close enough to do so. Not yet, at least. But that’s part of the problem. Trace has healed in so many ways, champions many battered spouse and partner programs, has sheltered battered runaways himself, but he has never truly faced his own past and moved forward.”

  “And you expect speaking to me behind his back to do what?” If Trace were really this closeted about his past abuse, he would be horrified with the both of them.

  “I expect you to be the male he needs you to be, whether he knows it or not.” Duncan sighed and for once looked as tired and worn as Sasha felt. “Look, I could tell you all about the abuse itself, the wounds he suffered when we rescued him, how close to death he was, but none of that will help you. It would only hurt you more than you already are. What you need to know is that Trace honestly doesn’t remember parts of the abuse. His lynx took over, and our animals don’t process quite the same as our human sides—thankfully in this case. Also I believe that, at least in part, it’s a deliberate thing on his lynx’s part. That side of him is trying to protect them from the pain. But no matter what causes the memory loss, the issue is the same—Trace doesn’t trust men not to hurt him. Not to abuse him. Especially if they are someone that he’s attracted to. The fact he’s shunned you, run from you, as I’ve been told he has, tells me he does care. The fact you’re supposedly his true mate means it’s a given that he will fall for you if he’ll just let himself.”

  “The tribe council shouldn’t know about the true mate issue. That’s something that only Keith and Jason were told.” Sasha didn’t want to discuss the rest of what Duncan said. Not yet. Could it be that simple, though it wasn’t simple at all? But could all of Trace’s actions mean he did care but was merely afraid? Not that he didn’t want Sasha, didn’t want them?

  “Let’s just say that there is someone on the tribal council who is not only for your mating with Trace, but has a way to know more than the rest of the council.”

  Sasha thought about that a moment before it struck him. “Taylor! That little sneaky—”

  “Now, now, now. She’s on your side, so no speaking ill of her.”

  “I knew having the alpha’s sister on the council was a bad idea.” He’d had no such reservations. In truth he thought it a brilliant idea. Built-in spy of sorts, and someone who would make sure the council actually listened to those it ought. But Keith and Jason never thought much of speaking with her near, as they trusted her implicitly. Still…. “Cannot believe she would betray a trust like this.”

  “She hasn’t betrayed Trace. She’s trying to make sure Trace is taken care of. You know she and Keith lost a human friend to an abusive partner, correct?” Sasha nodded. He’d never heard the whole story, but after more than two centuries, he’d heard far too many stories along those lines not to know the basics. “Over the last five years, she’s also gotten to know me. Since she became a member of the tribe’s council, she took it upon herself to learn what she could about the intertribal council, and so we’ve spoken many times. She knew she could trust me with this information.”

  “And all this has what to do with Trace and me?”

  “You are his fated mate, Prince Sasha. You’ve begun the bonding. If you don’t move things along, it will only hurt you both, and I won’t allow Trace to be hurt anymore, not even by himself.”

  Sasha thought that over, not liking the implications. “You would suggest what, then? Trace is not thrilled with my bonding him or what it now means for him. He chafes at what it gives him, even, the silly cat.”

  “Simply put him in a situation where his nature will demand he claim you. He already trusts you, or he would have run—mate or not.”

  He couldn’t help but stare. That was the great lynx’s high council leader’s recommendation? Make him jealous? “That’s… insane. Trace jealous is not a pretty thing. He’s unstable and prone to hissing and pouncing on me, and not in a fun way.”

  Duncan’s grin grew as his eyes brightened, and Sasha swore they twinkled. “Really? Oh, that’s purrrfect! Now we simply need to find the right trigger….”

  Chapter Sixteen

  TRACE STOOD in the hallway, clad in form-hugging dress slacks and a slim-fitting button-down shirt that faded from silver to pale green, which made his jade-green eyes stand out, especially with the kohl edging them. He wore the special bangles and bracelets Sasha had had made for him, all silver, of course, and his almost white-blond hair was spiked to perfection. Not a hair was out of place, not a thread was loose or off on any of his clothing. Even his chunky little boots, accented with silver buckles, were perfectly polished, as were his buffed and trimmed nails.

  There was something about Trace’s appearance that brought to mind a prissy cat, though Sasha couldn’t quite put his finger on what or why. Still, it was sexy as hell, yet confusing. He hadn’t expected Trace back so soon, so his appearance was a little surprising right then. Sasha’s uncle and Princess Tatiana were due to arrive within the hour, however, so he really didn’t have time to placate Trace’s worries.

  “Trace, what can I do for you?” Sasha gave Trace a smile, as always, hating that he still needed to restrain his natural desire to touch.

  “It’s almost time for your visitors to arrive, is it not?” Trace asked, his tone cool, almost bored. He looked around the entry area, his gaze bounding from person to item to person in quick succession, never staying for more than a moment.

  “It is, but I didn’t expect you to attend their arrival.” Sasha wrapped one hand around Trace’s biceps and pulled him aside. “You’ve shown no interest,” he added softly.

  Trace sniffed and raised his chin, showing no sign Sasha had touched him, much less pulled him away. “It would be rude of the royal consort not to attend the arrival of his bonded one’s family and honored guests.”

  What on earth did Duncan or Jason say to get you so riled up? Sasha smiled as he trailed his fingers down Trace’s cheek and neck, stopping when the pad of one finger was directly over Trace’s pulse point. It fluttered, calling to him, but he ignored the pull, instead enjoying the heat, the scent that was unique to his fated heart. “You know you have nothing to worry about, my heart.” He leaned in, going up on his toes to nuzzle Trace’s throat. “She is of no threat to you.”

  “As if I would worry about something like that.”

  The haughty tone fired Sasha’s blood, driving his libido and turning off his brain a bit. He gave Trace’s neck a nip, hard enough to mark the skin, but not enough to break through and allow him access to the life-giving nectar below. “Haughty kitty.”

  Sasha nipped the soft flesh again, sucking up a little mark before letting the flesh go. A soft moan met Sasha’s ears, the sound sweeter than any he’d heard before. It wasn’t the sound he’d heard from his fated heart before, of a male fighting himself to find pleasure; this was true pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and it startled Sasha enough that he drew back and stared at Trace, unsure what had brought it on.

  “Don’t stop, please….”

  Oh Gods! Sasha immediately dove back in to mark his heart’s beautiful pale throat again. Just as he pulled back to admire the mark, he heard Jalin clear his throat—loudly.

  “Sir. Prince Sasha!”

  Sasha tore himself away from Trace, who moaned, then coiled up around Sasha. “What, Jalin? This better be important.”

  “Sir, your uncle and his entourage are here,” Jalin said, an apology clear in his eyes and tone.

  “And?”

  “Bloodletting your bonded one is, um… maybe not the best thing to do as a welcome-to-the-covenstead greeting.”

  Dammit! He hated it when Jalin was right, and right then, the male was right. And just when Trace had finally let him touch him like he ought. “Fine.” Sasha pulled back enough to get a good grip on Trace and force hi
m to stand properly. “Mal’chik, we have guests. We have to play nice with the visitors for a bit.” Though the Gods knew he didn’t want to. All he wanted at that moment was to drag Trace to their chambers and find out how far this new sexy, submissive kitty went.

  Trace stood up, shoulders back, and his eyes flashed with green fire. “You would turn this”—he gestured down at himself—“down to go play with an uncle you don’t like and some strumpet vamp?”

  Okay, so maybe not so submissive, Sasha thought as he fought a grin. “No, I would put what we were doing on pause so that we can try to get to the bottom of the attack on you. So you can be safe, mal’chik. Keeping you safe and healthy is worth a great deal to me, even putting up with my mother’s brother and his inane betrothal attempts.”

  “I won’t share,” Trace hissed.

  “Nor will I, hon. Now be a good kitty and smile when they come in. You know how to play the diplomat. Keeping him on the right side of things is important, as he’s rather influential, sadly.”

  “And the princess?”

  “She’s merely a friend, Trace. You’ll see if you give her a chance. I haven’t spoken to her recently, but we have known each other since we were children. But I assure you, she is well aware I am gay and has no illusions of becoming my bride.”

  “Better not,” Trace muttered, but he plastered on a bright smile that would have fooled Sasha if Sasha hadn’t known better. Interesting… and a little alarming that he can do that so convincingly. Sasha wondered if he’d learned that as part of his diplomacy training or because of the years of abuse and all the covering for his abuser, lying about how he got injured, why he couldn’t do x, y, or z…. He shook off that train wreck of a thought and focused on how Trace quickly smoothed every hair back into place as if he’d had a mirror and an hour, instead of doing it in a minute by feel. Sasha chalked it up to it being a lynx thing and merely shook his head as he motioned Trace to stand beside him at the top of the stairs as the guards opened the doors to the entryway.

  Sasha paid no mind to the servants and lesser members of the party, though he knew he probably ought to at some point, but when Vlad stepped inside Sasha noted everything about the damned male. Vlad was just over seven hundred, though he probably only looked to be in his forties to Trace—as he would for the next however many centuries he lived, as long as he didn’t begin to tire. Those who looked to be actually “old” were either well over three millennia or had battled the wasting and not fared well. He wore a well-tailored black three-piece suit with a red tie. His hair was close-cropped and he still bore the scar over his right eye from the honor battle he fought in his youth. While he had won, he had been injured with a weapon made from a shifter’s claw that was inscribed and blessed. Vlad also tended to always keep his fangs out, refusing to retract them unless around humans—very fanged mafia. Ugh!

  Behind him was the ethereal beauty Princess Tatiana. How she’d gotten caught up in Vlad’s insanity was anyone’s guess, as far as Sasha was concerned. She stood tall—about five ten—draped in lavender silk and pearls. She was elegance defined but did nothing for him—as always.

  “Uncle Vlad. Princess Tatiana. Welcome to our home.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, boy. I’m not interested in your formal greeting nonsense or in your posturing. Come down here and welcome us proper and have your people show ours where our things go. It’s been a long trip. I’m tired and would like a rest before I have a look around.” Vlad’s voice was rough and hard around the edges. It still bore much of the tone and flavor of where he was born and raised in Russia. He scanned the room but stopped, his eyes going wide when his gaze landed on Trace. “What the hell is that doing here?” he bellowed.

  Trace started and shifted closer, curling one arm around Sasha, clutching the back of Sasha’s shirt with his hand.

  “I would suggest you control your tone, Uncle,” Sasha snapped. He wrapped the closer arm around Trace, pulling him against his side. “This is Trace Wilson, my fated heart and royal consort.”

  “Your what?”

  “My fated heart and my royal consort.” Sasha hoped pushing the point would both nudge Trace that last bit over the line and help drive the point home to his uncle that, no, he was never going to marry Sasha off to anyone for any political points, no matter what. Yes, Sasha would have children—sooner than he’d thought, most likely, with all the pushing he’d received recently—but it would never come via his uncle’s maneuvering.

  “Not possible. You are to wed Princess Tatiana and produce heirs like a proper prince. It’s time you did your duty and stopped endangering your coven and your line! This… this… mangy creature cannot provide your heirs; therefore, it must go. Now.”

  “Restrain yourself. Any threat made against a royal consort, especially a fated heart, is a crime punishable by death, as you well know.” Ignoring his uncle’s sputtering and huffing, Sasha turned to Jalin. “Please see that both Vlad”—because there was no way he would give the asshat either the title of uncle or prince right then—“and Princess Tatiana are settled into their respective areas.” He then turned to Tatiana and motioned her close. She more floated up the steps than walked, but was quickly to them. “It’s wonderful to see you again, my dear. I’m only sad it’s under such strained circumstances.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Sasha.” Her voice was as gentle and silky as her dress, a fact Trace didn’t miss, if the added tension in his body was anything to go by. “Might I properly be introduced to your partner? He’s lovely, but I’m sure, if he’s yours, there’s a wicked mind to go along with that handsome face of his.”

  Trace huffed but didn’t say anything. He also didn’t let go—a fact Sasha thrilled in. Duncan had said Trace needed to be pushed to properly “claim” Sasha as his mate. Gods, but he hoped this situation would work to their advantage. He released Trace and smoothed one hand down his back. Trace stood tall and gave a slight smile that managed to be both welcoming and firm at the same time—Sasha filed the question of how he did that for another time.

  “Princess Tatiana Mirovich, may I present Trace Wilson, my consort and fated heart. Trace, this is Princess Tatiana, an old friend and my uncle’s most recent attempt to settle me down.”

  “You don’t need settling down,” Trace muttered to Sasha. He turned up the wattage on his smile as he faced Tatiana. “Welcome. It’s always nice to meet one of Sasha’s friends.”

  “Liar,” she countered, her voice soft and playful. “But you’re sweet for saying so. I can see you’re diplomatically trained. Are you one of the shifter’s council?”

  Trace looked at Sasha, one brow raised. “Um….”

  “Come, walk with us, as my uncle is busy yelling at his servants, and if I watch too much longer I’m liable to do something he will regret.” Sasha turned and slipped Trace’s right arm through his crooked left. He then took Tatiana’s left hand, which she rested on his right arm. Once they were down the hall a ways, Sasha said, “As for your question, Tatiana, Trace is a lynx, and he is a trainer and diplomat for their high council.”

  “That has to be hard on a relationship between the two of you. I can’t imagine allowing my heart, had I one, to traipse around the continents, unchaperoned, with those who usually seek to destroy us. He is lovely, though.”

  “And right here,” Trace countered, a slight nip of annoyance slipping into his voice, though not as much as Sasha knew was there. No one liked to be spoken of as if they were not there, especially not by one you considered competition—ridiculous though that idea may be.

  “So you are.” She smiled, her fangs just peeking over her plump lip. “And how will you deal with living among our kind, dear lynx? With helping to raise royal vampire heirs, with the challenges and challengers you will face in time?”

  “Don’t harass him, hon. This is all very new to him.”

  Trace dug his nails into Sasha’s arm slightly, the tiny sting sending a thrill up his spine and bringing a smile to his face—something
that did not seem to amuse Trace in the least.

  “This will be your suite, my dear. I wish it was under better circumstances, but I am glad of your visit. Do try not to allow my uncle to ruin your time with us. You have permission to look around the grounds as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Sasha.” She leaned in and kissed each of his cheeks, then stepped back. “Sleep well, Master Wilson. I hope to speak with you again.”

  The grinding of Trace’s teeth was loud enough for Sasha to hear them over the swishing of Tatiana’s silk skirt as she left them. Once her doors were closed, Sasha tugged on Trace’s arm to get him moving again. “Let’s go make sure my uncle is settling in; then you can relax some before I have to go deal with him.” He closed his eyes and counted to forty in Russian when he heard his uncle’s bellow from down the hall. “Or perhaps I should go deal with him now before he upsets too many of my people or hurts someone.”

  “Is that likely?” Trace’s eyes were wide and his voice trembled slightly.

  “Eh, it has happened once or twice in the past. It’s one of the reasons I don’t often welcome him here. He’s a violent brute at times, and I have no patience for him. I cannot do anything against him, as he is family, and he never provokes me quite enough to justify my well-earned reputation.”

  “Oh. Um….”

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe from him. You will have someone guarding you while he’s here, as I’m not as convinced that he isn’t a party to those who attacked you before. Or that one of his servants isn’t.” Sasha soothed his hands up and down Trace’s arms. “You are safe here, mal’chik. I swear this. Any that try to harm you will not live to see the next moonrise. You are my heart, my mal’chik, my love. But for now why don’t you retire to our suite. Okay?”

  Trace stared at Sasha but slowly nodded. He had no idea what was going on in his fated heart’s mind, but he didn’t have the time to sort it out just then. So instead he led Trace to their rooms, and once Trace was settled in one of the plush chairs, Sasha made sure Dimka was posted outside, then went in search of his idiot uncle.