Aidan has been warned about the dangers of being with a human. His people live on the edges of society, in the shadows and alleys. And one day, if he's willing to submit to the birthright ceremony, he'll lead the next generation to continued wealth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My father, as though to prove a point ever since I refused the ceremony, will only ever agree to see me if I've shifted. In my half animal form, my brain doesn't function at the same level, less argumentative, more compliant. His control is maddening, and at some point, I wager we'll be reduced to a physical fight. We don't see eye-to-eye much anymore.
The doors to the throne room are thrown wide, and I prowl in. My father is on the throne and beside him is my mother. As the eldest of four children, I'm the rightful heir to where he's seated. My betrothed from another clan would be beside me. Should have been beside me by now. Turns out, I don't take betrayal well.
"Father," I snarl.
"Son," he says with a small smile. "Your adventures last night were costly. I've got the sheriff tidying up your mess."
"That was Rig and Donovan. I want you to tell them to lay off the human."
"The human?" My mother sits forward. "The one you've been tailing as though your life depends on it? None of us have said anything until now, but this dalliance won't change your course. At some point, you need to forgive and forget where Clara is concerned. She's in your blood, and you're in hers. There's no escaping that connection, no matter how long you want to deny it."
My father glances at her, and there's a silent exchange between them. One I can't access while they sit there and I'm down here. I didn't realize they knew about Emmerson. Should have, I suppose. They've got their fucking fingers in every aspect of clan life. Could dig into my thoughts if they were so inclined. Had they and I didn't notice? If that was true, I'd lost even more in the last year than I realized. The physical weakening is obvious, but the rest is a discovery process.
"Yes," my father says. "You've lost the ability to sense when we're in here."
He doesn't say it out loud, and I curse him out without opening my mouth.
"Give in," he says out loud. "I can have Clara here by morning. At one point, you were very agreeable to this arrangement."
At one point, Clara and I fucked like bunnies. Couldn't get enough of each other. From the moment we met, the connection was mutual and undeniable. If I think about it too much, my blood heats because I can still remember what it felt like to be with her. Hot and slick and eyes rolling back in my head kind of pleasure. A drug. The best high. Can't deny that I miss that, and sometimes I think her loss is what's drawn me to Emmerson. As though I've subconsciously sought someone I can never have to counteract Clara's betrayal.
If I'm meant to sit on that throne, I need someone I trust beside me. That's not Clara. Could never be Clara. While I might have been ready to surrender to my destiny last year, she was not.
"You realize you're doing this to her too," my mother says. "Her parents tell me she also grows weaker. Your twenty-first birthday should have been your ascension to the throne."
