BONUS CHAPTER
PRINCE ODHRAN
In order to preserve the mate bond, it is required for both parties to verbally reject each other as mates in order to sever the connection. Partial rejection creates a scar. Complete rejection is irreparable.
The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper
Shadows fade around us as I tesser her away from her home, and so does her grip on my arm. The gentle flex of her fingers against my skin is the only sign of alarm she’s willing to show me, and now it’s gone.
Credited to my utter lack of rationality, I’ve brought her straight to my room instead of the guest suite.
I’ve lost my fucking mind. What was I thinking?
I should have left her there like I planned, but not after Eamon set his eyes on her.
Rather the curse of my company than the infliction of the court’s cruelty.
The girl is quiet, rigid and frozen in place like a living statue. If only she’d stayed away, I could have spared her this. I should have just compelled her to remain in her room. Fuck!
“You’re a guest in my home, not a prisoner.
I’ll be right down the passage to your left if you need me.
” She says nothing, not even attempting to look in my general direction.
The same blank stare she had fixed on her face when she walked away from the ginger-haired boy is still there.
I knew this would happen. I fucking knew it.
“You should’ve stayed away like I told you to.
If you did, none of this would have been necessary.
” I shrug out of my coat and throw it onto the bed, desiring nothing more than to break everything in my path.
Finally, she turns to face me. Fire occupies the vacancy in her eyes when she looks at me.
“So, it’s my fault, is it? I am the one who bound and gagged innocent people like pigs for the slaughter?
I am the one with ominous, empty fucking threats and creepy black mist spewing from my fingertips.
I AM THE FUCKING MONSTER WHO FORCED ME TO brEAK MY ONLY FRIEND’S HEART? ”
“I did warn you.” My hands ball into fists at my side, digging my lengthening nails into my palms. Of all the things I could say, I chose I told you so. I really am out of practice where social skills are concerned. “Hate me. It’s nothing I’m not accustomed to.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” It wasn’t a question. “What are you going to do with me? Kill me?”
“And dirty my room? I think not.” I huff an unamused laugh, aimed more at myself than her. What the fuck is wrong with me? Sloan would love to witness this failure at civility.
“So rather outside? Like a farm animal in the dirt? Noted.” I may be an idiot, but I’m not a fool.
She winces as she unclasps her cloak, hanging it over the backrest of my desk chair with muttered curses.
It’s no secret that she wishes for nothing more than to be rid of me when she turns away, giving me her back.
My eyes catch on the small specks of red that seep through the light grey bodice of her dress, and my hunger catches me off guard, burning down my throat.
I’ve gone too long without feeding, which is another mistake.
I allow my nails to pierce my palms, distracting me before I inhale a deep breath, closing the distance between us, reaching for the line of small pearl buttons running down her spine.
Mate. My mate. That word, that one cruel word, is nothing but a wicked curse.
The irony, really, bonding me with a human.
Two races doomed to feed off one another for the sake of longevity.
We will be each other’s demise. Rather poetic, to be honest. The gods do have a sense of humour after all.
She tenses instantly as my fingers brush against the pearl-like buttons along her spine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she exclaims, stepping away from me.
The accelerated beat of her heart is immediately reflected in my own.
Her fluttering pulse is visible through the soft skin in the crook of her neck.
As cold as ice, my eyes darken, spreading to the rest of my face.
I catch her arm to keep her still. To keep her from seeing me and my monstrous self. To keep control.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say as calmly as possible, but the words are more of a hiss through clenched teeth.
“How do you expect me to believe you after… after what happened? After what you did?”
Hunger thickens in my throat, but I don’t release her. Logic and desire are at war within me, fighting a battle between selfishness and what’s right.
“I won’t have you bleeding onto my belongings.
I told you once, and I will tell you again.
You are a guest in my home. I won’t harm you as long as you abide by my rules.
” I don’t give her the opportunity to turn as I slowly unbutton the first pearl with my left hand, then the second, third.
Arousal builds within me, and I hate myself all the more for it.
Here she is, my human mate, bleeding, and all I can think of is her smell… the way she would taste.
Giving in to my urges, I lean close enough to whisper against her ear.
“Besides, if I were going to hurt you, Slìbhìn, I would’ve done it by now.
” She smells of lavender and oranges and honey.
“Gods know you’ve given me a million reasons to, and I would be just in my ruling.
” I continue unbuttoning as I listen to her shallow breathing, the way she swallows to keep from answering me in some sardonic way.
Reaching the last button below the small of her back, I slacken my grip on her arm.
War generals like blood; I, on the other hand, love it.
It makes us strong and keeps ageing and deterioration at bay.
“Why didn’t you?” she whispers, turning to study me. My breath catches, uncertain of what she’ll see. There’s no sign of fear, not even apprehension, only a look of hardened resolve that says this is the end of her, why not go out with a bang.
“Can we have this little heart-to-heart later? Perhaps when you aren’t bleeding through your dress?” And killing me on the inside while you’re at it. Leaving her in the middle of the room, I head to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath, staying away until everything is done and ready.
Her bath is drawn, complete with more than a few drops of my blood for the sole purpose of healing her wounds.
Thankfully, it’s unnoticeable through the herbs and flowers drifting on the surface, so I return to the room.
She’s still fully dressed, curled onto her side atop the blankets covering my bed.
Agitation boils deep within me, not aimed at her, but at everyone and everything else.
I know what she’s feeling all too well. I knew bringing her here would be a mistake.
I also knew leaving her there would be even worse.
I know what it is to live amongst those who abuse their rank…
to look into their eyes and be helpless.
I know what it is to be hurt, powerless to stop my aggressor.
Stopping beside the bed, I look down at her. “Ready?” I clear my throat.
“Go away.” There’s a slight quiver in her voice. Is she crying? I don’t do well with crying. I don’t do well with emotions in general. Fucking great.
“Not an option. Try another response, perhaps.”
She doesn’t answer me. Seconds stretch to a minute, then two. I didn’t expect her to actually love the boy. She didn’t want to commit to him at the market and flat-out lied to him about her family not approving. But now… I didn’t expect this. “Come,” I tell her, straightening my posture.
“No.” She tucks her knees into her chest, and I notice her bare feet. She isn’t wearing boots. She didn’t put on her boots because I didn’t give her the time to. I bite down on my teeth until my head aches with tension. Her foot is cut, bleeding a pool of crimson onto my bed.
“You can’t be that heavy. If you don’t come willingly, you’ll give me no other choice but to carry you.” She shoots a glare over her shoulder that serves to ease my anger. Such a wicked little thing.
“You won’t.” Her eyes narrow at me, her lashes wet with tears, making me despise the boy and myself, even more.
“You want to test that theory?” I raise a brow, offering her a hand. She stands, refusing my assistance.
“You must find me terribly predictable.” Loathing coats her every word as she saunters past me, despite her limp.
“I said humans generally are. I never said that you are.” Groaning, I shove my hands into my pockets, following her to the bathroom as I stare down at her bloody footprints. She stops, sensing me behind her.
“What are you doing?” She turns on her heel, widening her eyes. She’s sceptical, and perhaps even nervous, but without a doubt, she’s warning me. Every line on her face screams to ward me off, and I love it.
“Being a good host.” I shrug.
“Well… don’t. I can take care of myself.” She closes the door separating my bathroom from the bedroom, slamming it in my face. Agitation burns through me for a second.
“Doubtful,” I mumble to myself, but she hears me anyway. She may have looked after herself for years, but it doesn’t necessarily make her good at the job, or even make that job entirely necessary. “Where are your shoes, Miss Ashglo? Are humans not susceptible to the cold? Or cuts?”
“You’re really making it easy to hate you.” Even her nose wrinkles when she glares at me. Good.
“My life’s mission.” It may not always be an intentional mission of mine, but it’s one I do well.
I pause on the other side of the door, opening it by a sliver, listening to the swoosh of water as she lowers herself into the large oval bath.
Realising that she’ll need something to sleep in, I collect a shirt from my closet.
Warm water spills from the edge of the bath the moment I step inside the steam-filled space.
Her knees are held to her chest in an attempt to cover herself.
“What the fuck?” she exclaims. “Are you insane? Get out!”
“You aren’t the first woman I’ve seen naked, Ashglo.” I’m fully aware of how arrogant I sound. Her back is covered in bruises and lacerations, causing me to grit my teeth so hard I fear they may snap. “Besides, you need my help. Suck it up.”
She says nothing when I place the white shirt on the green velvet ottoman beside her.
The bathroom is aglow with warm candlelight, glinting against the tall stained-glass window opposite the bath.
Kneeling behind her, I roll up my sleeves above my elbows, accidentally brushing against the leaves of a large fern in the corner.
“Hand me the sponge.” I point to its location, and to my surprise, she complies. She winces when I press the waterlogged sponge to her back, clearing her wounds of blood, one by one. We’re both quiet for a long while.
“I still hate you,” she hisses between clenched teeth when I dab the last one.
Water runs down her back in pink rivers, her blood mixing with mine.
Her wounds are still fresh, some still bleeding.
As much as it pains me to be around blood when I’ve gone months without, it angers me more when I notice the many scars on her skin, healed from years of abuse.
This wasn’t a one-time occurrence. I don’t regret ending her governess’s life, wishing I’d drawn out the process.
“That’s fine, as long as you hate the assholes who did this more.”
“You added lavender to the water,” she says after a long moment, pressing her cheek against her knee.
“And thyme,” I add.
“It’s nice.” Her words slur as if she’s fighting a losing battle against fatigue.
“I’m not your enemy, Slìbhìn,” I say softly, running my fingers through her long black hair, removing each pin from her braid. Their metal burns like embers etched into my fingertips. My mate. Pain and beauty wrapped into one perfect vessel.
“I like lavender.” Her words are spoken so tenderly that a single movement in the water almost drowns them out completely. She looks so peaceful. Her hair curls and falls recklessly over her forehead and shoulder to drift in the water.
“You need to get dressed and into bed. You’re going to fall asleep right here if you don’t.
” I rinse her arms, shoulders, and back.
Even though all the wounds have been cleaned, I bite the pad of my index finger and watch a bead of dark red bloom.
Line after line, I trace that finger along her broken skin, watching it re-graft itself.
For the first time, I truly understand why they harvested our kind as I see the effects for myself.
Only faint pink lines remain where open gashes were moments ago.
Faint pink lines that should heal without so much as a scar.
“Mo Stóirín, you are safe with me. Always.”
She hums in response, remaining completely still. Unclipping her pendant necklace, I carefully place it beside the bath, glamouring her to forget that I ever cared for her at all.