Dark Alpha: A Fated Mates Novel

23: INEVITABLE

~VANNIE~

He knew.

The King knew about her and Crom, but he wasn't doing anything about it. Why? Why?
And Crom had another person in the Inlands working for him and giving him information? Who was it? Did the King also know who it was?

But what if he didn't actually know that Vannie was involved with his enemies? What if it was just a guilty conscience that was prickling her? It would not do to go into a panic over something she wasn't sure of yet. She should calm down.

She knew the reason for this attack on the Inlands was to make Sin grow closer and protective over her. But as he ushered her into his room, it wasn't the plan that made her follow him. No. Crom had told her to prepare for action, and to be ready to go into the King's embrace when it happened. But Vannie hadn't been expecting a bloody bomb.

It was all too reminiscent of that night her household had gotten attacked. The loud sound of the bomb tonight had sent her back to those moments when Sin's Keepers had come to drag her parents out of their beds to punish them.

And wasn't it funny how she was coming to Sinclair for comfort, over a tragedy he wrought?

He must have noticed her shivering, because he came closer. Unlike when he'd been checking her for bruises, he hesitated over touching her this time. Because he thought she wouldn't welcome him? And she should think the same, except for the very first time since their acquaintanceship, she wanted him to hold her. Her reservations be damned. She wanted him to drag her into his arms and tell her everything would be alright, and that she didn't have to play all these games.

And she hated herself for it.

"Vanylla?"

She shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. "Yeah?"

"If you don't wish to share a bed with me, I'll take the floor."

Yes, she wanted to scream. Stay far away from me and stop making my chest hurt so much. Dear Goddess. But saying that would be counterproductive to Crom's efforts. So she pulled her mouth into something she hoped could pass as a smile and said, "It'd be an honor to rest beside you, Alpha."

His answering growl sounded like one of utter satisfaction. He urged her to sit at the edge of the large bed, then retreated into the washroom after assuring her he'd be back soon.

He emerged moments later with a wet towel and a bottle of oil. And then, without warning, he took her hands from where they were folded on her laps. While she tried to gather herself, he wiped her digits with the towel gently, fussing and rubbing till each one was clean. "You stayed on the floor too long earlier."

"I could have washed those by my—"

He dropped to his knees in front of her. And just as carefully as he'd tended to her hands, he cleaned her feet. Using different sides of the towel to wipe till all the dirt transferred unto it, he remained intent in his ministrations. When that was over, he opened the bottle of oil and poured a portion on her feet.

Vannie, who was still stunned that the King was kneeling before her, gaped even further.

"Alpha—"

"Call me by my name," he interrupted, not stopping the gentle massage of her joints. "Why do you insist on using a honorific?"

Then he stared at her, and everything else fell away. Even on his knees, the King's great height made him taller than her where she sat. They were eye to eye now, and she could clearly see the crest of her mark on his neck.
"Sinclair. . ."

"Yes, my Queen?"

She didn't know why she'd called him. Something was different about tonight, warning her that there was a bigger plan was unfurling in the background that she knew nothing about. And this person was the only one on her side now.

Even though she didn't want it.

"I understand why you killed my Sire. But why did you have to punish my Mam, too?"

Until she'd asked that, she hadn't even known how badly she wanted the answer. The towel dropped from his hands, but he didn't avert his gaze from hers. "Your Mam begged me to punish her alongside your Sire."

Vannie jolted at the words, reconciling them with the image she'd seen from after that day. . .

Ah, yes. It was perfectly believable that her Mam had wanted the same fate as her Sire. They'd planned the rebellion together. They were mates. Even though the mate bond was weaker with her Mam because she wasn't a Werewolf, she wouldn't have survived long with a dead mate, anyway.

"I would have let her go, but she said she'd come back for me if I didn't finish the job, and that she wouldn't fail next time. She would take the Inlands down next time. I wasn't threatened by that, then she said she'd just kill herself. I thought—" he choked. "I thought I was doing her a mercy by sending her along with her mate."

Vannie's eyes stung with unshed tears. He saw them, and the bottle of oil joined the towel on the floor. "Vannie. . ."

He was agitated, maybe a little bit panicked. Like this, she could almost believe this wasn't the same person who had watched her with disdain as he burned her house down. She could pretend that this person hadn't caused her the most pain she'd ever felt in her life.

"No, I'm fine, I'm—" she forced a smile, but the effect must have been ruined by the sniffle that followed. "I've just always wanted to know."

"Vannie, you have to understand that—"

"It was because of the prophecy, I know." Her next smile was ironic. "They used to tell me the story about how iron-fisted you were, but now that I've had space to think about the event, even I know you wouldn't have been so hasty to kill if there wasn't something spiritual to it."

"Don't let me off the hook this easy, my Queen."

Oh, she wasn't. She was still working with his enemies alright. But she could admit the truth when she saw it. "The fates have a way of giving us what we need before we even know what it is."

Gathering all the courage left in her, she brought her hand up to brush hair the color of spun gold away from his forehead. He stiffened, giving her the opportunity to watch his face. The proud arch of his brows, the high points of his cheekbones, the warm rose of his full mouth.

She came forward to press her lips on his forehead. "Goodnight, Sinclair."

His soft shiver was her response. Yes, Crom's plan was working. If she kept touching him like this — and coupled with the tension caused by the mate bond — the King's love and trust was inevitable.