88: No Victory Dance

Quincy St. Martin

The sparks fly as the firewood and tinder crackle and pop in the fireplace. The blazing fire from the hearth bathes the bed and the immediate area with its warm glow.

The rest of the room is cloaked in darkness.

My cheek is resting on his chest. My ear is pressed close to his heart. He’s lying on his back with one arm wrapped around my waist and the other arm covering his eyes, but I know he’s still awake.

I’ve been tracing my name on his warm skin, marking him over and over again. It’s impossible to fall asleep when your heart aches so badly in your chest yet you’re trying hard to hold it all in. I want to be selfish and ask him not to fight tomorrow, but I know that I can’t do that. Earlier this evening, all of the royal advisors came to see him and asked the same thing of him.

“Don’t fight,” said Lord Stepanov, the oldest advisor.

“Bastards don’t have a claim to the throne. Even though his mother and the king are erasthais, they’re not mated. You’re the queen’s son and the named successor. You’re the rightful heir. That’s the law.”

“This is no longer about the law,” my mate had replied. “He has his army of rogues and ruthless criminals at the ready to destroy packs in the north. Hundreds will die if I refuse to fight him. I know Father has sent our armies out there, but there are hundreds of packs in the north. We don’t know which packs they’re planning to attack, and we don’t have the manpower to guard them all. I refuse to have any more blood of the innocents spilling freely on the ground like last night.”

Surprise, respect, and pride crossed their faces.

“You are going to be a great king, Your Highness,” said Lord Stepanov, bowing to him along with the other advisors.

I’d never felt so proud of him. But still, lying here with him right now, I can’t help thinking, what if this is the last time that I lie with him? What if…

I feel the change in the rise and fall of his chest before his hand comes down to cover mine, stopping my finger from the endless movement on his bare skin.

“I can feel the storm inside you,” he says.

I thought I’d covered it well. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry this is hurting you.” His touch is gentle as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“Isn’t it funny how I discovered that I have a brother tonight and tomorrow morning I’m going to have to kill him?” His voice is calm and low, but I’m hurting for him.

“He’s made his intentions known. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants, and unfortunately for me or for him, one of those things is you. You know once a lycan sets his mind on something, he won’t stop until he gets it or someone stops him.”

He suddenly moves his hand to cover my back until he has both arms wrapped around me possessively and protectively.

“He will never have you. No one else but me gets to touch you. Ever.”

I flatten my hand on his chest and raise my face to look at him. His eyes glitter, more gold than green in the brilliance of the flames.

“I’m only yours. Forever,” I promise him before I lay my head back on his chest.

We both stay silently like this for a long time before he quietly speaks.

“I’ve always secretly thought that I shouldn’t have been the king. My parents aren’t each other’s erasthai. I didn’t want it because I don’t deserve it.”

With his cocky attitude and his arrogance, I’d never have guessed that he feels this way. I think no one else ever sees this side of him, not even our pack members.

I think we have more in common than we thought.

He opens himself up to be vulnerable to me. It’s time I do the same for him. No hiding.

“You know, I always feel like I shouldn’t have existed at all,” I tell him. “I’m a bastard child who doesn’t even know who her father is. He’s not my mom’s mate, just some random guy.”

This is a secret I always carry in my heart. The guilt for existing.

I know it doesn’t make sense, but little kids have weird thoughts like that, especially when they know they’re not wanted.

It’s stupid, but it’s the thought that I can’t get rid of, even now. My Nana never knew that I feel this way. “I’m nothing but a mistake.”

I feel the ripple of his muscles before he sits up, causing me to sit up as well. “Don’t say that,” he says urgently. “Look at me.”

He shifts to lift my chin up. He looks wounded. His green eyes are intense.

“Don’t ever think that again. You’re not a mistake. You were meant to be mine. You were made for me.”

“Then you don’t get to think that you have no claim to the throne because your parents are not each other’s erasthai,” I tell him.

“To me, you deserve the crown because you care. You’re strong, and you care about your subjects. He doesn’t. He was born out of an erasthai bond, but he destroyed everything good and will continue to destroy. He sacrifices innocent lives to get what he wants.”

I shudder to think of what he will be capable of if he rules.

“I know for a fact that you’d have given up the throne, the wealth… You’d give up your life to keep me and the pack safe. Tomorrow you’re fighting for innocent werewolf packs. You’re more than worthy.”

I put my hand on each side of his face. “My love, you are more than worthy.”