15. The Sting Of Rejection
CHAPTER 15
The Sting Of Rejection
Melinda Mayweather
Both Fenrir and Ares move to block my view of the approaching angry man and his posse of equally pissed-off followers. My heart decides now’s a great time to audition for a drum solo, pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape. I open my mouth, ready to protest, but snap it shut just as quickly. They’re not just blocking my view–they’re concealing me. Sneaking a peek between them, I catch sight of the advancing figures, and every instinct I have screams danger.
My little tattoo goes into overdrive, swirling around my wrist like it’s having its own personal mosh pit. Kellan? My gaze darts across the room, landing on him. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest like he’s posing for a “Brooding Heroes Monthly” cover shoot. But his face. Wow, he looks pissed. At me? Except me being here isn’t my fault.
I take a step toward him, only to be cut off by Fenrir’s quick sidestep. Smooth moves, big guy.
“We don’t want that narcissistic noxious nightmare noticing you anytime soon.”
I slap a hand over my mouth, desperately trying not to snort-laugh.
Fenrir flashes me a grin before turning his attention back to the room. The extremely well-dressed nightmare guy, is now standing in front of Hawke and his parents. His entourage hangs back, all flowing robes and haughty glares. There’s some outwardly civil words exchanged, but the undercurrent of hostility is so thick you’d need a broadsword to cut it.
“Who is this guy?” I ask in a half-whisper. “Why is Kellan giving me the death glare?”
Fenrir’s leans in close, his eyes darting around like he’s afraid the walls have ears. “That is Julius Darkwood. He’s on the High Council. And Kellan is not mad at you—he’s pissed at us. He’s trying to shield you from their scrutiny, milady.”
A young beautiful woman approaches Darkwood’s right side. He smiles down at her like a proud papa bear, and she speaks to Hawke. Touches his arm with a familiarity that makes my stomach do a very unpleasant flip. She’s all over him like he’s the last cookie in the jar, running her hand up his bicep and to his chest.
Panic and anger smack me in the face hard and I scramble to regain control of the magick threatening to explode out of me like a shaken soda can. The guilt is suffocating, a relentless voice whispering that I’m evil and dangerous and that I don’t belong here.
“Fuck.” Fenrir groans, doubling over. Ares doesn’t say anything, but the tension in his posture tells me he’s in pain too. And it’s my fault.
Shit. Oh shit. No. No. No. I breathe deeply, trying to rein in the magick pouring out of me, like I’m a busted faucet.
A moment later Kellan is next to me. His hands, warm and grounding, hold mine, pulling me back from the edge. “Look at me, Domina .”
I meet his eyes, green and mesmerizing like he’s trying to mind trick me into calming down. And you know what? It’s working. The connection stands into place between us, stronger and easier to find this time, like the world’s most soothing Wi-Fi signal.
Everything relaxes. Fenrir and Ares both loosen up, but neither turn to look at me. If anything, they stand taller, attempting to hide Kellan behind them. Which, given his size, is like trying to hide a sequoia behind a couple of oak trees.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Kellan squeezes my hands reassuringly. He shakes his head with the conviction of a man who’s never been wrong in his life. “She should not be touching your mate, Domina. There is nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t lash out on purpose.” His words resonate, echoing in the caverns of my heart. I want to believe him. Desperately.
My mate. The term hangs in the air, heavy with meaning. Hawke, my mate–it’s a notion that feels both surreal and predestined, like finding out you’re secretly a long-lost princess. It sounds like something straight out of a fantasy novel—except I’m literally living inside one. There are dragons and fae and castles and… for the first time in my entire life, I feel like I might be in the right place.
Mate. Is this magnetic pull towards him, this need, more than just emotional? Is our connection laced with the same magick that courses through this world? A flicker of joy sparks inside me, bright and thrilling and terrifying in its intensity. For a single heartbeat, I allow myself to revel in the possibility, to bask in the glow of a connection that transcends the ordinary.
But as swiftly as hope rises, it's eclipsed by the dark reminder of my curse. A cold shiver slides through me, drowning the warmth of my momentary happiness. He can’t be with me. We can’t be together. There’s no happily ever after for us, only death and sorrow and me losing everyone I love. I’m cursed. And I will not put that curse on anyone else ever again.
Even though the thought of him with someone else slices through me with a sharpness that leaves me breathless. This other woman is his real chance for a future.
“Why are you all still standing around? The children have been found.” Darkwood is walking toward us now. They all are. The whole room is focused on our shadowed little corner.
Kellan tucks me behind his and Ares’ backs where I’m not able to see anyone.
“Your excuse for not showing in the Hall of Grievances for your fealty swearing is gone.” His voice snaps like a whip and I stare hard at the surface of the shiny marble floor and my reflection in it. Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let the magick out of the box.
More people are coming closer. I can hear the footsteps. Feel the tension.
Ares steps closer, closing the gap between him and Kellan completely.
“I don’t know why you bother to hide your whores, Ares.” Darkwood’s tone edges toward viciousness. “Everyone knows you run through women like a stallion in rut. No one wants to see her.”
Kellan vibrates in front of me. My tattoo writhes on my wrist. His rage is like a swirling hurricane about to make landfall. I place a hand on his back and silently beg him to stay calm the way he helped me only moments ago. I do the same to Ares, placing my other hand against the back of his arm.
“You can fuck off, Darkwood. We’ll be there when our fifth arrives. Until then, go sit your decorative ass down on your makeshift throne.” Ares’ anger is palpable. The drive to fight or cause pain fills the air with a sickly-sweet lure.
“How dare you?” The older man growls.
“Take it up with dear old dad . I bow the knee because it’s required, but I don’t have to like it or you.” Ares makes a tsk sound and takes a step forward, but Kellan shifts his stance and whatever he does stops Ares.
“Father, he’s just trying to rile you. He’s not worth your time.” A female voice speaks this time, thick with venom and spite. “The troublemaker doesn’t deserve the seat the World Tree gave him.”
I almost try to look up and look between the two men, but I stop myself, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. Is it her? The one that touched Hawke. Father? The woman really is this high councilman’s daughter…
“Find your fifth. Now. And put your whore in your bed on her back where she belongs.” The darkness of his voice, the malice in it thickens the air with an oily hatred. “I don’t want to see her again, is that clear?”
Ares’ body vibrates under my palm. The power he’s holding back is immense. His control is admirable, but limited. Darkwood needs to move on soon or this is going to turn into a supernatural smackdown.
Don’t look up. Don’t look up. I keep staring at the shiny white floor. At the boots of the men surrounding me. Protecting me. Taking insults they don’t deserve on my behalf.
“I’ll find Boaz and meet you in the Hall of Grievances,” Hawke says, his voice strained but mostly normal.”
Lightweight footsteps trail away from our area. Then heavier ones.
I push between Kellan and Ares, stepping into the light and toward Hawke. I look up and meet his gaze, his eyes are bright with a golden shimmer I’ve seen so often in my mother’s eyes. She was Fae. Just like Hawke. Or at least part Fae. Which means I must be part Fae. Except why would Kellan say he didn’t recognize my magick?
“Hawke, what’s going on?” Hawke’s mother and father are approaching from across the hall. “Everything is fine now with the children. Shouldn’t you and the other Knights be headed to the fealty swearing?” His father’s voice is thick with concern and irritation.
Before Hawke has a chance to answer his mother interrupts, causing me to lose my control and look up.
“Hawke, who is the woman with Ares?” Her gaze meets mine for a split second before I look back at the floor and step behind Kellan, letting the hooded cloak and their massive bodies hide me from view once more.
It’d felt like she’d seen all the way into my soul. Like she was looking for what makes me who I am. I don’t even know, lady, so good luck.
“Get her out of here. Now.” Hawke’s words bite like blades of ice across my soul. “I have to find Boaz and nobody can know she’s here or what she is. You shouldn’t have brought her to the Hall.” He whirls on his heel and greets his father, but I can’t hear the words through the pounding pulse in my ears.
What she is… He doesn’t want me here. He knows I’m dangerous. Whatever he thought about this mate stuff, doesn’t matter. The real world for him is this political pit of vipers and a wildcard like me that can’t stop from hurting people isn’t the best ally.
But it still hurts. My soul mourns for what could have been. If I wasn’t cursed, I would fight harder to be the mate he deserves.
“Come, Domina . Ignore the stupid male. He’ll come to his senses later and beg you for forgiveness. You need to withhold it and make him earn your affection.” He slips an arm around my back, putting a big warm palm between my shoulder blades. “You’ll feel better after some food and a nice hot bath.”
“Thank you.” I whisper, letting him lead me out of the Hall. The tattoo on my wrist isn’t twirling about like an animal with the zoomies. It’s still and calm. “Does the councilman hate everyone or am I just special?”
Kellan makes a very male grunting sound. “The Council formed and stole power from the Knights of the Round Table. They don’t particularly like any of the knights. Mostly because they represent a threat to their tenuous control.”
I grin to myself under the cover of my oversized hood. Knights of the Round Table . They’re real. Next thing you know, someone will let it slip that Merlin runs a magick school somewhere. “Hawke is a Knight?”
Kellan blows out a slow breath. “Yes, and all the men he left you with are Knights, except his brother Destrien.”
“So is the story of King Arthur real?”