Chapter 171. The Offer
Soren
"Your marriage to the princess was the last straw with the Council," Alden said quietly. "I see no path forward without... a forced abdication."
I didn’t answer right away.
My gaze was fixed to the pool below, where Maisie cut through the water in smooth, powerful strokes. The evening sun painted her skin in liquid gold, the scandalous light purple swimsuit clinging to every curve like a second skin. She laughed brightly and unrestrained as she pounced on Regina, dragging the redhead under with a splash. Juliette and Jenny joined the chaos moments later, turning the pool into a battlefield of shrieks and laughter.
Licking my tongue over the pointed edge of my fangs, I ran my gaze along the marks that stood out beautifully against her skin, and my Lycan purred with pleasure at the sight of it. How beautiful, how right it looked there. If I didn’t have to share, I would have made a canvas of her skin, leaving little marks everywhere I could, like the dent she had made on my soul.
A weight settled in my chest. I wanted to preserve this moment. Bottle it in a jar to revisit it whenever I needed to tell myself this was worth the shit options I was beginning to consider to keep her untouched like this. Radiant. Free.
I turned away from the window, lifting the glass of vodka to my lips. The burn did nothing to dull that weight in my chest. "That would be treason," I finally answered.
"This is less than ideal, Your Highness," Alden continued. "The Queen has made her terms clear and the Council stands with her. The only way to regain the Council’s favor is by ceding to their demands of breaking this marriage and taking Lady Tessa as your wife."
The glass cracked under my fingertips. "Treason it is, then."
Alden’s silence was answer enough.
I wasn’t divorcing Maisie. The very thought made my Lycan snarl with violent possession. I had only just gotten her to look at me with something other than hatred. To trust me. To smile at me. To let me hold her. I had only just gotten her back.
I would burn the world down before I gave that up again.
"I have grown weary of indulging this childish rebellion, nephew," she had said before we departed three days ago, smoothing the front of my coat with almost maternal affection. "Everything I have ever done has been for our people. One day, when you wear that crown, you will understand."
Her hand came to rest against my cheek. "Strip the girl of the title you so foolishly bestowed upon her. Restore it to Tessa. Forget this childish attachment before it costs you and your brothers everything. If this is simply a matter of type, I can arrange for others. Hybrids. Omegas, if you want. Women with the same coloring. Blue eyes. Brown hair. The same fire in their eyes, if that is what you crave."
I cocked my head, staring into her ever changing eyes. "And if I do not?"
There was a strange scent on her and her eyes glowed. "Then you shall have yourself to blame for what happens next, child. If you wish to rule, you will give the girl to me. Let her serve her purpose to our people as a breeder. You needn’t trouble yourself over what becomes of her. She will be cared for."
I had fought the surge of anger I felt as she stroked my cheek softly. "Your mother would’ve been so proud of the king you became."
"You are considering the Exile Queen’s offer?" Alden said, tearing me from my thoughts.
My gaze lowered to the little scroll resting on my desk.
The offer came through Jericho three days ago. Apparently, the only way Ryder Hunt thought to pass down the offer without the prying eyes of the Queen that surrounded every corner of the school, was by provoking Jericho into beating him into a pulp.
There were rumors that Ryder was a masochist. I supposed that bit was true.
My fingers tightened around the glass again as I mulled over Margaret Hunt’s terms.
I’ll admit, it was a bit disturbing that she was offering an alliance. I suppose it made sense that she thought we had the same common enemy. She had numbers. She had the weapons. None of which I had. If I wanted to protect my mate, I needed more than the brute strength of my brothers. I needed the Council. I needed the Blood Crown out of the Queen’s hands.
But was I willing to murder my aunt for it?
It was clear I needed her completely off the chessboard.
Her revelation of Maisie’s heritage had rendered my title as Crown Prince decorative. So long as I was wed to a traitor’s daughter, the Council would never be on my side. My aunt had seized control of the crown and wasn’t willing to give it back. My inheritance meant nothing if the people saw me unfit for rule, which she was working hard at making me appear.
Maybe she deserved to die for everything, but killing her would set off an unpleasant chain of events. And I didn’t want her putrid blood on my hands, anyway.
Or maybe those were just excuses for the fact that she was Mercer’s mother, and terrible as she has always been to me, those hands that struck me more often than not lately once used to wipe the tears off my cheeks and clean my cuts and wounds when I scraped my knee as a little boy.
She was the closest thing I had to a mother.
I returned to the desk, dropping the empty glass, and I braced my hands on either side of the mahogany. "Her demands... are... impossible."
Alden arched a brow. "I’ll assume you’re referring to the particular demand of increasing the number of mates the Princess has to seven." He looked thoughtful for a moment and I considered punching his left eye shut when he said, "You should let her decide if she wants—"
"No," I snarled. "She doesn’t like them. She doesn’t want them. They will never touch her. They’re savages."
Oblivious as always, Alden frowned. "I’m sure that can be ignored. The Hunt brothers have strength to rival yours. Bringing them into the Convergence bond would make you unstoppable—"
"Fuck no," I growled. "I’d rather drink Kisten’s piss than watch them put their hands on her."
Alden’s eyes narrowed. "You are being unusually emotional. Might you be experiencing separation anxiety?"
"Experiencing what?"
The older man stared at me like I had asked an idiotic question. "You know, the possessiveness Erasthais experience right after the consummation of the bond? The one where they act insane when they haven’t gotten their desires tickled in a long time?" He blinked in that eerie, scholarly manner. "Are you sex deprived, my Prince?"
I didn’t even want to think about it.
I had gone last during the consummation. I’d gotten the fewest hours with her, as opposed to the days the others had. Then she had run from me for weeks. The desperate, stolen moments in the parking lot and the jet hadn’t been nearly enough. She hadn’t touched me the way I needed. Hadn’t let me bury myself so deep inside her that she forgot every other man existed.
She was mine.
The word echoed in my blood like a vow carved into bone.
I wanted her every single night. Every morning. I wanted her scent soaked into my skin, her taste on my tongue, her moans branded into my memory. I wanted to mark her so thoroughly that no other male would dare breathe in her direction.
But she wouldn’t even touch me. Maisie didn’t initiate touch often with me. I suppose I had myself to blame for being a dick. Maybe if I was as nice as Jericho, she would curl up against me and sleep. Or maybe if I was deeply troubled like Mercer, she would let me wash her hair and shit. Or maybe if I was as unhinged as Quinlan was, she would let me tie her to my bedpost.
She didn’t like me anymore. Why didn’t she like me anymore—fuck me. I was irritated all over again.
"Fuck you, Alden."
He blinked. "A flattering offer, really, but I am fairly certain I am not your type."
"Get out of my study."
He didn’t. He tapped the scroll. "Consider this for a moment longer when you are calmer. It could be a good opportunity."
"She killed my mother," I said vehemently. "And she wants my aunt dead."
She wanted a whole bunch of other things, too. Like the Exile on the Hunts lifted and their statuses reinstated. She also wanted Maisie crowned the second my aunt was... dead. She wanted the highest seat on my council.
She, too, wanted to control me. No. Not me. Maisie.
Hatred burned in my gut and I wanted nothing more than to toss the scroll in the hearth and watch it burn.
"We do not have to like our allies," he said as a matter-of-fact. "We just need them when it is necessary to get the job done. Plus, terms can always be negotiated. I doubt she expects you to agree to everything."
A knock rasped against the door, and I raised my gaze at it creaked.
Vincent, one of the many guards who remained out of sight on the estate grounds, stepped inside, lowering his head. "There’s a guest downstairs, sir." A pause. "The Queen’s physician is here."