Chapter Twenty
CHEV
I DON’T KNOW how to answer Vanessa. I refuse to repeat the words.
She stares up at me, waiting. I’m beginning to panic. I’m not going to repeat the lies and assumptions. They will do no good.
Her phone is sitting on her lap, and without thinking, I snatch it up and crumple it in my fist.
I’m mildly aware this might scare her, but instead of fear, I see only defeat in her reaction. She knows why I did that, and her chest expands with breath before she slowly lets it out.
“I see.” Her voice is quiet. “Would you like to come inside?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa climbs out of her golf cart, and I quickly follow. This is the first time my mate has invited me inside her house, but I feel only dread. She’s inviting me inside because she thinks I need more time to tell her what’s being said. I have no intention of doing so.
It doesn’t matter what people are saying.
Vanessa unlocks her front door and steps inside.
“Sorry about the mess,” she says, moving to the side and gesturing for me to enter.
I’m still in disbelief that she’s invited me into her home, and a tiny thread of excitement weaves through me as I step inside and look around. This place smells so strongly of her, and I fight with my bear when he threatens to make his mating noises again.
Now is not the time.
“I see no mess,” I say.
The place is spotless, and I find the few items lying about endearing. Her breakfast dishes are scattered around the kitchen, and a smile spreads over my lips as I imagine her rushing around cooking something delicious to eat. Sometimes she dances when she cooks, and I wonder if she did so this morning.
Vanessa shuts her front door, but she doesn’t lock it as she usually does. She doesn’t fully trust me, not yet, and she probably wants to keep an easy escape from me. I try not to let it hurt my feelings, and I stick close to the wall and try to make myself small. This is her home, her space of comfort and safety, and I don’t want to ruin it.
She brushes past me, her pace fast as she grabs and throws her dirty dishes into the sink. I want to help her, but I don’t think she’d appreciate me drawing attention to the small mess. She’s clearly embarrassed.
Instead, I take a seat on her couch.
I can’t tell if she’s genuinely anxious about the slightly dirty state of her home or if she’s trying to prolong our conversation, but I remain patient either way. I still don’t know what to say to her, and I use this time to find the most delicate words. I won’t go into detail. I refuse, and I will destroy every device in her home if I need to.
After several minutes, Vanessa finally meanders to the couch. Her hands are clasped tightly behind her back, and she scans me head to toe before taking a seat on my left. I’m not too fond of the distance between us, and I stare at the gap between our thighs before turning my upper body toward her. She copies me, and I take her hands.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
I can’t tell if her thundering heart is due to discomfort with our touching or just general anxiety. Vanessa glances at our connected hands before giving a jerky nod.
“What are they saying, Chev?” she asks.
I will not lie to her, but I won’t give details. They’re saying we’re not a good match because she’s not physically strong, and they assume I’m devastated by the fact that she’s my mate. They’re talking about how important physical intimacy is for shifters, and how disappointed I must be to have a mate who’s been taken before. I read one article that said I probably regret saving myself. It’s not true.
Their words make me sick.
“People are not being kind,” I admit.
Vanessa’s hands shake.
“But they’re wrong,” I assure her. “I’m so grateful for you, and I’m proud to be your mate. I’m happy with you, Vanessa. You’re enough. You’re always going to be enough—more than enough.”
Vanessa’s eyes grow wet. Why is she crying? I slide my hand down her arm, wanting to comfort her but unsure how. I usually wait for her to initiate our contact, but when tears begin to streak down her cheeks, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against my chest.
She folds into me, her cheek resting against my skin as she returns my hug. I slide my hand up and down her back, beyond pleased she’s letting this happen.
“Is there anything else?” she asks.
I hate this.
“They’re making assumptions about our level of intimacy,” I say.
Vanessa stiffens, but I’m not surprised. I had a feeling this was going to be the thing that hurt her most—mainly because the rumors are true. She and I are not intimate, and there are no plans for that to change.
I release Vanessa and kneel on the ground between her thighs. I want to hug her tightly, and I think that will be better done when I’m below her. She peers down at me as I wrap my arms around her torso. This position brings my face close to her breasts, but I pretend I don’t notice as she buries her face into the hair on top of my head.
Her body relaxes as my scent fills her lungs, which pleases my bear. Loud noises begin to pour from my chest, and Vanessa giggles when she hears them. It’s not the mating call my bear usually makes, this one deeper and slower. He’s trying to comfort her the only way he knows how, and it seems to be working as Vanessa turns to putty in my arms.
It’s lulling her to sleep.
I’m lulling my mate to sleep.
It’s the best feeling that exists, and I continue running a soothing hand up and down her back as she gradually goes limp. The mate bond hums between us, beyond content. It’s making me sleepy, too, but I force myself to remain awake.
I want to enjoy every second of this.
I hold Vanessa until long after the sky has grown dark. This is the best day of my life, and I bury my face in her hair and smell her for hours. My back aches from being in the same position for so long, and I grimace as I finally work up the strength to pull away and stretch my spine. The movement doesn’t wake Vanessa, but I’m sure that has to do with our bond. My scent has surrounded her, and she unconsciously feels safe.
I stare at her sleeping form, hesitating, before lifting her into my arms and carrying her upstairs.
Her bedroom smells so strongly of her, and I allow myself to enjoy it as I pull back her sheets and lay her down. I love how her nose scrunches when I finally pull away, and I hurry back as she cracks open an eye and peers up at me.
I don’t want her to be scared of me, and I slouch my shoulders as she looks around the room. It was a bad idea to bring her up here. This is her private space, and I shouldn’t have intruded.
To my complete surprise, though, Vanessa blows out a tuft of air and rolls away. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relief, and despite how badly I want to stay here and watch, I remember Charlie’s advice and leave.
My mate likes privacy, and I need to give her space.
I don’t want to go, and I make sure to lock all of Vanessa’s doors and windows before shifting into my bear and returning to Aziel’s home. Silas is waiting for me.
“Where were you?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I am an adult, and the time I spend with my mate is of no concern to him.
“You have an interview tomorrow morning. The crew will be at your office at six sharp,” Silas continues, following me through the house. “Aziel said you wish to discuss the rumors of you and Vanessa, but you’ll have to tell the reporters what topics are off-limits.”
“Nothing is off-limits,” I say.
I wish to clear every rumor spreading about Vanessa and me.
Silas clears his throat. “Are you sure? They’re going to—”
“I’m sure.” I turn into my bedroom and shut the door in his face.
Vanessa is sure to find a way to look herself up tomorrow morning, and I want my interview to be the first thing she sees. Everybody will be talking about it, and I want to clutter the feeds so Vanessa can’t find the cruel articles already written about her.
If I could, I’d have Silas scrub the articles from the internet, but I fear upsetting the balance. Things are working well for us right now, and I don’t want to give Mammon a reason to speak out against us. Controlling the media is a sure way to do that.
I go to bed, and I wake up and dress before the sun rises. My interview isn’t for several more hours, and I sit at the kitchen island and prepare myself for every possible question that will be thrown at me.
The house gradually begins to stir, and when I hear tiny feet pattering in my direction, I get up and begin pulling food out of Aziel’s fridge. The shadows typically cook all our meals, but the children wake early—and hungry.
“Uncle Chev!”
I hum and turn toward the tiny demon standing at my feet. Valeria holds the stuffed bear I gave her for her birthday last year, her sticky fingers curled around its throat as she drags it behind her. It’s a very ominous hold, but I suppose I should be complimented by how much she likes my gift.
It looks just like me.
Gray says she sleeps with it every night, and I smile before picking her up and setting her on the kitchen counter.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. I already know the answer.
Valeria nods, and I listen to see if any of her parents are awake before pouring her a bowl of cereal and milk. I should make her something nutritious, but I lack patience this morning. Plus, her parents don’t let her eat sugary foods for breakfast, and I’m not above breaking the rules to win her affection.
I want the tiny fate to like me.
“Are you excited to start school next week?” I ask, leading her to the table.
She beams, and I resist the urge to laugh when she sets her stuffed bear on the seat beside her. I put the cereal in front of her, beyond proud of myself as she begins to scarf it down.
“Daddy A’s taking me shopping for new dresses today,” she says, her chin held high. “He said I can pick out five.”
I sit across from her and steal one of the marshmallow bits from her bowl.
“Do you know how many Cassia is getting?” she continues.
I shake my head. “How many?”
“None, because she’s not going to school because she’s still a baby.”
I can’t contain my laughter, and I press a hand to my lips to stifle it. Cassia hates being called a “baby,” and the young wrath resorts to screaming whenever the word is uttered in her direction.
Valeria rambles about all the things Aziel has promised to buy her for school, her voice growing louder as the man in question wanders into the room. He rubs his eyes and nods in my direction before plopping down at the head of the table.
“You look like shit,” he says.
He purses his lips and glances at Valeria, clear nervousness written across his features. He’s not supposed to swear in front of her. She repeats everything he says.
He turns back to me. “Did you sleep?”
“No.”
It’s about time for me to leave, and I pat Valeria on the head and make my way to the portal before I get scolded for feeding her sugar. I haven’t been to the headquarters in weeks, and I mentally prepare for it before turning on the portal and stepping through.
Noise assaults my ears, and I linger by the portal for a moment before heading toward my office. Echo is already waiting inside, her eyes narrowed on the three men setting up interview equipment—cameras, lighting, everything I hate.
I greet her. “Good morning.”
I’m not in the mood to hear her lecture, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t give one.
“Can I sit in on your interview?”
I nod, and she takes a seat along the right wall. I settle in at my desk, unused to being here. My office is familiar, but it no longer brings me the comfort it once did. I’m only comfortable with Vanessa.
The three men shoot me continual nervous glances as they prepare for the interview. I openly stare at them. It’s no secret that shifter males are protective of their mates, and these men work for an organization that publicly insulted mine. They should be nervous.
Another man enters the room. I recognize him. He’s a reporter, one I often see in front of the camera. He himself insulted my mate. I read the transcript of his broadcast last night. I read every fucking word of it.
I’m surprised Aziel organized my interview with him.
My office door opens again, and I bite back a smile as Charlie, Aziel, Gray, and Silas step inside. The children are nowhere to be seen, but I assume they’re wreaking havoc somewhere in the building. My heart soars. My friends are here to support me.
“It’s time,” I say, glancing at my computer.
Vanessa will be awake in one hour and thirty minutes, and I fully intend to be at her house when she does.
My interviewer clears his throat and glances at his notes. He’s a tiny man. Easy to crush.
“Yes,” he mumbles. “I suppose it is.”
His voice shakes, and I share a look with Aziel. He sucks his cheeks into his mouth, visibly holding back laughter. This interviewer spoke quite bluntly when he could hide behind his screen, but he’s afraid to talk to me directly. It’s humorous.
There’s a moment of silence as the man operating the camera finishes some last-minute touches, getting the angle perfect. The man interviewing me takes a seat opposite my desk. His hands are shaking. I love to see it.
We begin.
“Is it true that your mate is Vanessa Bryne?”
I resist the urge to sigh. This is going to be a long hour.
“Yes.”
“And is it true she’s a nymph?”
His eyes narrow, and I know he’s trying to read my reaction. He’s hoping to see me flinch or show embarrassment, but I won’t. I’m not embarrassed by my mate. I never will be.
“She is,” I confirm.
The interviewer’s cheeks turn pink, and I glance at Gray.
His lust fills the room. Why is he doing this? The man stumbles over his next question, and I bite the inside of my cheek as he glances at Echo. He’s giving her eyes. Why? Echo smiles, and I fight not to react when she presses her elbows together and leans forward.
That whore.
They’ve planned this.
“My mate is Vanessa Byrne,” I repeat. “And I would like to clear up some things.”
The interviewer is too distracted by Echo to lead our conversation, and I happily take advantage of this as I talk about my mate.
“Several rumors are going around about us, most of which are untrue. Echo hired Vanessa several months ago as a facility manager, and we didn’t discover we were mates until her second week here. She was hired on her own merit, and she’s made several improvements within the Wrath facility. I will tell you them all now.”
I discuss the classes she’s encouraged the women inside the facility to partake in and the impressive successes they’ve been. I’m practically beaming with pride while I talk, and I have to pause several times to calm before continuing.
“Vanessa is passionate about her work,” I continue, “and her resilience is something I greatly admire.”
Her history with the ogres remains private, and the information is safely stored in our protected files. I will never share her personal business with others.
My heart pounds, and I clear my throat before beginning to discuss my next topic. This will ruin my career.
I share my wrongdoings. I admit to the mistakes I made when we met, going into detail so people understand why she ran from me. I’m not the good man they think I am, and I want them to know that. They once defended Vanessa, but enough time has passed that they’ve forgotten what I did to her. I make sure they remember.
The small man interviewing me continues to stare at my sister. He does this for the entire hour, hardly getting a question in. I don’t mind. I have a lot to say.
“We are finished now,” I say when the hour ends.
The man puts the camera down, and the lights blinding me are turned off.
Gray’s lust gradually dissipates, and he shivers before grabbing Silas and Charlie and disappearing from the room. I’m hardly paying them any attention, though. My sister is still pushing her breasts out, and I glare at the side of her head as she stands and saunters out of the room. She’s proud of herself. I’m going to smack her with a stick later, and then I’m going to tell Dad what she did.
I don’t need her fighting my battles.
My interviewer turns back to me, and he puffs up his cheeks as he shifts his attention to his notes. I’m sure there were plenty of questions he wanted to get to, but he was too distracted by Echo to ask them. I did a lot of speaking, but not a lot of answering.
He’ll likely be fired for this. I never give interviews, and this was a good opportunity.
Aziel approaches my desk.
“Would you like me to take you to Vanessa’s?” he asks.
Of course. I stand and hold out my arm, waving it in his direction. He snorts, and I’m staring at my mate’s front door a second later.