Chapter 37 Three’s Company #2
“I can’t just divorce Accalia,” Victor said with a sad smile, as though he were trying to comfort me. “It would strain relations with Fenmoor.”
Accalia rolled her eyes, looking at her nails as she spoke. “Relations that soured how, again? Oh, that’s right. When you killed my cousin.”
He gritted his teeth, ignoring her as he continued. “And we also have a child together…”
I flinched at the mention of the baby. He hadn’t forced me to interact with Alaric since that one time he’d brought him over, despite his delusion we were some kind of family, and I prayed to Hecara that Alaric’s parentage would be remaining a secret.
I didn’t think I could stomach it if he tried to include me in his son’s upbringing, like, Hecara forbid, a nanny.
“It just wouldn’t be proper to leave her,” he said, holding my hand as he stared daggers at his wife. “No matter how much we’d both prefer it.”
Accalia rolled her eyes, crossing her legs and arms as she growled.
Victor inhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. “And yet,” he continued, “the term ‘Blood Consort’ is too archaic, too shallow to describe our relationship. You are my mate, Sage. A position that demands respect and honor.”
I had to bite the retort on my tongue. As Victor’s mate, the last two things I’d ever felt were “respected” or “honored.”
“We are simply using a system that already existed to explain our… situation. A system that, truth be told, many vampires long to return to.”
I was sure they were. What was it about wealth that made someone desperate to abuse those without any power?
Then he stood, extending his hand towards me. “Are you ready?”
* * *
The drawing room was already buzzing with energy when we entered.
The vampire council members and their partners mingled in clusters in the gaudy, ostentatious room, their laughter haughty and unhurried.
They raised champagne flutes, the liquid inside too dark and thick to be mistaken for anything but blood.
It clung to the glass as they sipped, their smiles baring red-streaked teeth.
I couldn’t help but remember the last time I’d been to a formal vampire event. The night my life as Sage Hexwood officially ended.
I had a feeling something else would be ending tonight, too.
Their attention settled on me the moment Victor guided me inside, appraising and taking careful note of my posture and scent, curiosity curling their lips in amusement.
Their gaze shifted once more when Vorthain entered the room. What had been a jovial atmosphere turned cold, as the vampires failed at deducing exactly what he was, his Magik and designation either something wholly new or so ancient it predated everything we thought we knew about Lundaria.
“Victor,” purred one alpha woman whose face I recognized from the news. She saddled up close to him, her eyes lingering on me hungrily. “It appears you’ve invited some… guests.”
When her long, talon-like fingernail slid down my arm, Victor’s hand snaked further around me, drawing me in close to his side as he bared his fangs.
“No touching,” he hissed.
She laughed off the awkward tension and retreated a step, nodding condescendingly towards Accalia.
I had a feeling Accalia didn’t get along with most of the people in the room.
“Council members,” Victor started. Everyone stopped talking, turning to see and listen to their Premier. “Welcome. I have some introductions to make, for tonight isn’t just another one of our monthly social gatherings.”
Their interest piqued, and those sitting now stood as the rest gathered closer. Eyes shining in the low light, they stared at Victor in rapt attention.
“This is Sage. My mate.”
Shocked gasps sounded, frantic murmurs and whispers following in the wake. Accalia attempted a smile, her eyes pained, as some of the vampires naturally assumed that this meant the end of their marriage while they gave her faint condolences.
The others stared at me with even greater scrutiny. I might never have wanted to be Victor’s mate, but insecurity still ate at me from the inside as I wondered whether I measured up in their eyes.
One of the vampires cleared his throat. “Well, in that case, a heartfelt congratulations is in order, Victor and Sage. Let us praise Sanguiel and Hecara in their wisdom, for the joining of this vampire and witch in—”
Vorthain raised his open hands only a few inches from where they’d been clasped in front of him, silencing everyone. “The gods deserve none of your thanks for this bonding. It’s been broken and weak from the start.”
When Victor didn’t argue, the group grew even more confused, while Vorthain’s identity became even more confusing. Who was this man that could speak for the Premier?
“Because Sage is not really his mate.”
My breath became shallow, cold sweat building at the back of my neck. Victor didn’t say a word in response, facing the council head on, his expression neutral as the dark priest spilled his deepest secrets.
“Victor’s true mate died eight years ago, but her heart beats on inside the witch before you. It was enough for them to recognize each other, and yet not enough for the bond to grow as I’m sure the gods intended.”
Victor lowered his nose to breathe me in, my scent steadying him as our deficiencies were laid bare before the council. A mate bond that didn’t work, and a love that should have never been.
“Mate bonds are real,” Vorthain said. “They are sacred, powerful, and transformative.”
A few heads inclined, already hanging on his every word and gesture. He knew he had them, and I wondered what, if anything, could possibly stop him now.
“But tell me,” he continued softly, “how many among you were chosen? How many were blessed with that singular devotion the gods so freely exalt, and so sparingly bestow?”
The air changed and emotions shifted. The longing and loss for something greater than their money and power could ever obtain now exposed.
Even I was moved by his speech, though for different reasons, as my thoughts landed on Ronan, and how unfair it was that we couldn’t be together.
How even a taste of what a true mate bond felt like would have to sustain us until the end of our days.
“For every bonded pair celebrated in song,” Vorthain said, “there are hundreds who wait. Hundreds who build lives with partners they respect, desire, even care for, and yet will always feel the absence of something promised but never delivered.”
His lips curved faintly, and Accalia’s arms crossed her chest, a defensive move meant to look haughty, his speech hitting her directly.
“But why,” he asked gently, “should devotion be a lottery? Why should compatibility, loyalty, and fulfillment be hoarded as divine favor rather than shared as a right? The gods may call this order, but me?”
He scoffed. “I call it inequity. How many alphas marry for alliances? How many omegas accept security in place of certainty? How many betas live their lives convinced they were never meant to be chosen at all?”
My throat tightened as my mind drifted once more to Ronan. Would he be able to marry someone and find some semblance of happiness without me? The thought of him with anyone else made me sick, but so did the idea that he might spend the rest of his life alone and in mourning.
“The gods created a system that elevates a few and leaves the rest to compromise, and then they have the audacity to call it sacred.”
His voice then softened, almost reverent. “We do not seek to destroy mate bonds. We seek to democratize them.”
The room was quiet, the sermon settling into the cracks Vorthain had secretly split in their minds.
“Forgive me but are you seriously telling us you can… create mate bonds?” asked one of the council members. “And no offense, but who exactly are you?”
His fanged grin gave me goosebumps, and I shivered in Victor’s embrace. “I am no one. Just a humble servant, seeking to right the misguided wrongs of the gods and our forebears.”
“He’s our salvation,” Victor sighed, his teeth scraping along the side of my neck. “We’ve lived too long under the yoke of modern sensibilities and pressure to conform. Vampires have always needed more, have always taken what was rightly won through strength, conquest, and superiority.”
He gestured loosely towards Accalia. “Marriage has its uses,” he said, barely disguising the derision in his tone. “Politics, alliances, and what have you. But this?”
His hand pulled at the collar of my dress, then grabbed my hair and tilted my head back, baring my throat to the room. “This is for love. For the power the gods promised us, yet held tantalizingly out of reach.”
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he asked with a whisper, a question meant only for me.
Before I could answer, his fangs pierced my skin, the bond I had broken with magic strumming back to life in my veins, rebranding me.
A single tear fell down my cheek and I whimpered, falling back against his chest as the room watched, hunger growing in their expressions.
There was no fighting it this time.
I was his.