Chapter 5 Sam #4
My jaw tightens involuntarily. “I’ll protect her. Always. With everything I have.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her voice grows gentle but insistent as she picks a sprig of something fragrant from her basket, rolling it between weathered fingers. “When a wolf mates, it’s for life, isn’t it? That’s the foundation of everything you believe about love and loyalty.”
“Yes.” The word comes out rougher than I intended.
“And if that life spans centuries?” Her gaze becomes penetrating, almost uncomfortable in its intensity.
“Fae live a very long time, Samuel. Longer than most mortals can comprehend, longer than shifters even. My daughter is half-fae, which means her lifespan could be measured in centuries rather than decades. Have you considered what that means for your future together?”
The question hits me like a physical blow, driving air from my lungs.
Of course I hadn’t considered it, couldn’t have, when I didn’t know what she truly was.
But now the implications ripple through me like stones thrown into still water.
Will I age and wither while she remains young and vibrant?
Will I leave her alone after promising her forever?
Will I become nothing more than a brief chapter in a life that stretches beyond anything I can imagine?
“I see you haven’t,” Cashira observes, and her voice softens with something that might be sympathy.
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. There are ways, of course.
Paths that might align your lifespans, rituals that could extend your years to match hers.
But they come with prices, as everything in Vanir does. Magic always demands payment.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Tell me.”
“In time.” She glances toward the tree line where shadows still cling to the massive trunks.
“For now, you should know that Locke Erron isn’t just any fae soldier sent to fetch royal bastards.
He’s the son of General Erron, the king’s right hand and most trusted advisor.
If he’s been personally dispatched to escort Esme, it means King Ayla is taking no chances with her safety.
It also means her presence at court is about to shake the foundations of everything the Night Court believes about power and legitimacy. ”
My wolf growls at the mere mention of Locke’s name.
There’s something about that arrogant bastard that sets every territorial instinct I have on fire.
It goes beyond the usual dominance bullshit that comes with being an Alpha, it’s the way he looks at Esme, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that belongs to him.
Like he has some claim I can’t understand.
“He’s dangerous,” I mutter, hands clenching into fists.
“All fae are dangerous,” Cashira replies matter-of-factly, tucking herbs into the deep pockets of her apron.
“But Locke Erron is loyal to a fault, it’s been bred into his bones through generations of military service.
If the king has commanded him to protect Esme, he’ll do it with his life if necessary.
That doesn’t mean you should trust him blindly.
Just that you might find yourself fighting alongside him rather than against him. ”
The very thought makes my skin crawl. Working with someone who clearly wants my mate, pretending alliance while every instinct screams at me to rip his throat out.
“Great,” I say flatly.
Her smile holds dark amusement. “The Night Court operates on power plays and shifting alliances, politics as warfare by other means. You’ll need to learn quickly if you want to survive there, let alone protect Esme.
” She pauses, studying me carefully. “Wolves aren’t common in Vanir, but they are respected for their strength and unwavering loyalty.
Use that to your advantage. Be the steady force in a world of chaos. ”
I’m about to respond when a familiar scent catches on the morning breeze, God damn night-blooming jasmine mixed with steel and something darker. Locke. He’s approaching from the east, moving through the trees with that unnatural grace that marks him as something other than mortal.
“He’s here,” I growl in frustration.
Cashira nods calmly. “Wake Esme. It’s time to face whatever comes next.”
I slip back into the cottage and make my way to our small room where my mate lies curled on her side like a cat in sunlight.
Her silver-white hair spills across the pillow in waves that seem to catch light even in the dim interior.
For a long moment, I just watch her, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips part slightly in sleep.
Everything’s about to change again, our fragile peace shattered by royal summons and political necessity.
I need this moment of calm to anchor me through whatever storm we’re about to enter.
“Angel,” I murmur, brushing my fingers along the sharp line of her jaw. Her skin is warm and soft, and I can feel the steady pulse of life beneath it. “It’s dawn.”
Her eyes flutter open, revealing those stunning silver-gray irises flecked with light like captured star fire. For a heartbeat, she seems disoriented, lost between sleep and waking. Then recognition floods her features along with the weight of everything waiting outside these walls.
“Sam.” She reaches for me automatically, and I catch her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. Her fingers are still warm from sleep, and a slight tremor betrays her nerves.
“He’s back,” I say quietly, not wanting to shatter the moment but knowing I have to.
She nods, sitting up and running her free hand through tangled hair. “Okay.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s nervous, terrified, if I’m being honest, though she’d never admit it aloud.
I catch her face between my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze directly. “Hey. Look at me.”
She does, those extraordinary eyes searching mine for reassurance I hope I can provide.
“Whatever happens at court, whatever we learn about your father or the politics of this place, it doesn’t change us,” I say firmly. “You and me. We’re solid. That’s not negotiable.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, some of the tension leaving her frame. “Promise?”
“With everything I am.” I press my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent; cotton candy, morning rain and something uniquely hers that will always mean home to me. “You’re stuck with me, Angel. For as long as you’ll have me. Hell, probably longer than that.”
She kisses me then, soft and sweet and desperate, and I pour every ounce of love and determination I possess into it. When we break apart, there’s new steel in her eyes, the kind of resolve that carried her through everything else life has thrown at us.
“Let’s go meet a king,” I say as I pull away and hold out my hand to my mate.
Esme puts her hand in mine and smiles up at me confidently. “Let’s.”