Chapter 37 Three’s Company
Three’s Company
Sage
An alpha’s purr was proven to have healing and calming qualities, even for strangers with no romantic connection.
But instead of comforting me, all I felt was sick as Victor held me.
When I began to whimper, tears streaming down my cheeks, the purring turned into gentle shushing.
“Sage, darling, I’ve got you.”
Except it wasn’t okay. I’d known that going back to Victor would mean sacrifices, but losing all control… it was too much.
I’d fallen asleep almost immediately after the dark priest’s “sample” of what he could do to me. To how he could make me feel, how I could learn to react to Victor.
My sleep had been deep. Victor could have done anything to me in that time.
He continued trying to soothe me, clearing the hair that had fallen into my face.
“Nothing happened,” he whispered, reading my mind. “Nothing was going to happen. That wasn’t our intent.”
I froze, sniffing as I took note of the way my body felt. I wasn’t sore, and I didn’t smell like… like him.
“What do you mean?”
“This was just about Vorthain’s methods. Showing how you’ll feel once we’re aligned. But I won’t sleep with you until it’s real.”
He sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of me neck and breathing me in.
“I want you, Sage. You say you’re my consolation prize, and I said cruel things out of anger, but they aren’t true.
I… I don’t want you resigned. I don’t want to fuck an empty mannequin, a shell of a woman who’d rather dissociate than be with me. ”
I burst into uncontrollable sobs, and Victor’s grip on me tightened as I rode out the worst of it.
“Then just let me go!” I cried. “I’ll give you my blood if you need it, but please let me live my life away from you. This has never worked between us, and it never will. Don’t you see that?”
“But I can’t,” he hissed, his hand on my abdomen digging into my skin. “You think I haven’t tried? Tried to imagine a future without you by my side?”
He inhaled deeply. “I need you, Sage. My heart, body, my very soul, has already decided that you’re my mate. And Vorthain will help you feel it, too. He’ll help us be happy.”
Happy, he said. Like that was something that could ever have been possible between us.
Even if Vorthain could go back in time to when Victor first scented me at that stupid charity event, before he’d kidnapped me, killed Kaleb and Nellie, forced my parents into hiding, cut my own eggs from my body while I slept and implanted them in another woman’s womb…
It would have been over the moment I’d met Ronan, anyway.
Because even in the short time we’d had together, even as I’d tried to hate him for making a deal to bring me back, and even though he couldn’t name the connection between us, I’d finally felt what it was to have a mate.
I’d been happier and felt safer sitting in his car than I’d ever been with Victor.
Victor held me until I’d cried every last tear my body could produce, and then picked me up and helped me into the shower, cleaning us together with gentle hands.
He kissed every scar on my body, washing between my legs without any sexual touching, the absence of aches and pains confirming he’d told the truth about not fucking me while I’d blacked out.
Considering he was an alpha who regularly gave in to his baser instincts, I supposed I should have been impressed by his tremendous show of restraint.
And yet I only felt numb, despite the tingle of his fingers working shampoo through my hair.
Cold, despite the heat of the water sluicing down my body.
Bruised, despite the lack of coloring on my skin.
He took care of himself afterwards, and then helped me out, drying me off with a large, fluffy towel.
“I’ll have a dress waiting for you once you’re done in here. Just be ready for the meeting in three hours.”
“Meeting?” I asked, my hair dripping on the marble floor.
He gave me a wan smile. “Our first test.”
* * *
My hair was pulled back in a loose bun with a few, curly tendrils left out to frame my face, and I stood in front of the mirror to check the final look.
Victor had chosen a mock neck, long-sleeved, sheer green dress with a slip underneath, the skirt stopping a few inches above my knee. It was tasteful, and did a decent job of hiding my scars, while also showing just enough skin to be alluring.
Gold, diamond-encrusted hoops hung from my ears, and my makeup was light with minimal eyeliner and a pink lip.
Lastly were the ivory shoes I’d found that looked good with the dress—sling-backs with a low heel so I wouldn’t trip. Walking in shoes still felt strange, and the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself.
Even before Victor had taken me, I’d never had much skill in getting dressed up and had often asked Nellie to help me accessorize and do my makeup.
I hoped I looked okay.
The door clicked open, my pulse skyrocketing as Victor entered, looking sharp as usual in his dark wool suit. His eyes softened as he saw me, and he approached me slowly, standing behind me so he could see the both of us together in the mirror.
“You look beautiful,” he nearly whispered, kissing my neck.
I shivered, his touch still doing more to sicken me than excite me, but Victor didn’t know the difference.
“What exactly are we doing, and do I have to say anything? And what… what about Accalia?”
He sighed. “Yes, I think it’s time for us all to get on the same page. Come,” he said, taking my hand and leading me through the door.
We walked into his bedroom, the space double the size of mine and unapologetically palatial, all gold trim and soaring ceilings.
Crystal sconces threw cool light over carved moldings and velvet-draped windows.
It was expensive in the way only someone desperate to be seen as powerful could manage—maximalist, indulgent, and just shy of garish.
Vorthain sat at a table, drinking his tea, while Accalia sat across from him, her back straight and expression strained.
Our eyes met, and the silent look she gave me said what words couldn’t.
We don’t know each other.
“So.” She stood up and straightened her suit dress. “This is the woman you’ve been cheating on me with?”
I bristled, even with knowing she was putting on an act. Accalia still exuded power and elegance, two qualities I wouldn’t use to describe myself in a million years. The question was directed to Victor, but she was doing a good job at including me as the target of her barely restrained rage.
Victor growled in response, tucking me a step behind him as Vorthain cleared his throat. “Madam Corvane, I understand you’re upset. But she is his mate. We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, yes, how romantic,” she sneered. “His mate that he’s kept hidden from the world, even as he met me at the altar of his god and vowed to cherish and honor me above all others.”
“I never gave you any illusions that this was anything other than a political arrangement, so spare us the spurned wife act. It’s beneath you.”
Accalia growled, her finger nails growing into vicious claws sharp enough to rip out a Magik’s heart when Vorthain raised his hands. “Please, these petty squabbles are beneath all of us.”
They shut their mouths, but the resentment between them filled the room with an oppressive cloud, making it difficult to breathe.
The hood of Vorthain’s cloak still covered the top half of his face, but I could feel it the moment his eyes landed on me. “Sage, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
This dark priest, this “Arch-Hierophant,” had power unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Power that could even control Victor, one of the strongest Magiks in Lundaria.
His insertion into the Premier’s home and life was troubling, and I couldn’t believe Victor was allowing it.
He said he wanted to learn about fixing mate bonds, and that Victor’s and my corrupted bond was the one he wanted to experiment on, but mate bonds were the work of gods.
So who exactly did he serve?
“Victor, why don’t you tell Sage what she can expect from this evening?”
The request was an order, and Victor swallowed before obeying, leading me to a couch. We all sat down, the lingering anger between Victor and Accalia still simmering between us.
“Sage, darling,” he started. I caught the way Accalia flinched at the term of endearment. “Tonight, we’re hosting a dinner with the Noctis council members, and I’ll be announcing you to them as my mate.”
I turned towards Accalia, but she didn’t look at me, her eyes focused elsewhere. “But… does that mean you’re getting…”
“Divorced?” she asked, filling in the blank. Then she scoffed, laughing darkly and muttering under her breath. “If only.”
The confusion must have been quite clear on my face. How could you claim a mate and still be married to someone else? I mean, I knew how Victor could do that, since our mate bond wasn’t real, but how would other Magiks accept this arrangement?
“Have you ever heard of a ‘Blood Consort?’”
My cheeks paled, my hand instinctively covering my neck as I gave a shallow nod.
Long ago, before the non-cits of Noctis paid tithes in blood to live here, vampires obtained the blood they needed to survive in three different ways—first was through hunting, attacking other Magiks wherever they could find them.
The second was to pay a willing—or trafficked, as was often the case—“volunteer” at a Blood Brothel.
The third option was reserved for the wealthiest vampires.
Blood Consorts—half consort, half personal blood bank—used to be the ultimate status symbol in Noctis.
Omegas from around Lundaria were kidnapped or sold to become thralls to their vampire masters, sources of blood, pleasure, manual labor, and whatever else they could offer until they were walking husks, shells of their former selves to be discarded once they’d fulfilled their purpose.
The Premiers had outlawed the practice over a century ago when they’d codified the Lundaria Omega Protection Act.