11. Aurelia

Chapter 11

Aurelia

T he early morning light filtered through the windows, the sun just cresting the surrounding mountains. Time to get up and get going.

I was halfway out of bed before I remembered my situation. This wasn't my village and I didn't have a job to get to. Granny no longer dictated my time.

Then again, I did have a duty, and I wasn't in the habit of lazing around.

The lock on the door was a standard, double-way affair that wouldn't take much effort to crack—if I had the right tools. I'd had a similar one on the work shed and on my house before Raz went through a spell of stealing my keys and locking me inside.

Luckily, the tower had a plethora of items that could work: a bunch of hairpins, a screwdriver set, cotton swabs with easily removable ends—the options were endless. Why did they bother even locking the thing? Did it actually keep anyone in?

I chose the hairpins, spent a few scant minutes fashioning them into the shapes I needed and picking the lock, then stashed my makeshift tools at the bottom of one of the trunks full of clothes.

Since the room didn't afford me any better options, I'd dressed in my clothes from yesterday. I slipped out the door and headed down the stairs like I was supposed to be there. Sometimes, being left alone required only confidence. At the bottom of the staircase, I waffled for a moment about which direction to turn but then headed down a hall with paintings I thought I remembered passing on the way to the tower. A few servants walked past, most going the same direction as me and all of them giving me double takes. No one commented, though, nor spent too long looking me over.

Near the end of the hall, a very tall, dark-skinned man sauntered in my direction. His face was strikingly handsome, his frame enormous, and his demeanor loose and easy, like he hadn't a care in the world. A sparkly jacket adorned his torso, not unlike something Hadriel would wear, and matching yellow trousers led down to black velvet shoes, the fabric the same as the jacket's lapels.

He noticed me immediately, and I felt like a mouse trapped in a serpent's gaze. Nothing changed about his bearing or his easy stride, but I could tell he was suddenly on point, ready to handle a potential problem. With his size, he'd handle it in no time flat. I stood no chance.

He didn't veer into my path and I didn't veer into his, but we watched each other as we closed the distance. Neither of us pretended we didn't know what was happening here: I was out of my cage, and he would not stand for it.

Within five feet, outside of his arm's reach, I slowed to a stop. He did as well, a partner in this dangerous dance.

"Hello, Captive Lady," he said pleasantly, flashing me a wide, beautiful smile.

"Hi."

"What brings you out and about?"

"The sun came up and I figured, rather than lying in bed, I should be up and about my duties."

"Is that so?" He took a half step and leaned against the wall. Only a fool would think he was letting down his guard.

Tendrils of unease wound through me, and I wondered how fast he could run in those fancy shoes.

"And precisely what duty are you about this early in the morning?" he asked.

"It's dawn, and that's when I usually get up to go to work, but... well, I'm here now."

He nodded. "Right you are. No work for you."

"Well..." I huffed out a deep breath. "I created Granny's empire, and now I need to tear it down. I need to figure out how. And I can't do that if I'm sitting idle."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I heard something about that. I'll be honest, I didn't believe it. A person that makes drugs unlawfully doesn't usually up and change their tune, becoming a model citizen."

"You can take him," my wolf said, obviously delusional. I shushed her.

"I'm not interested in becoming a model citizen. I'm just trying to right some wrongs. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," he repeated, and looked at me for a very long moment, right in my eyes. I could tell he was assessing me, and the scrutiny made me want to babble nonsense just to scare him away.

"Simple. As. That." He pushed off the wall. "Where did you envision going first during your jaunt around the castle?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Fair.

"I thought I'd find the library and see if it contains any books on Moonfire Lilies. I unearthed one yesterday. It should have been sent to the gardeners? I wanted to make sure they rehomed it properly. They are rare flowers—very hard to find. I want to make sure I know how to grow it."

"You don't trust the gardeners?"

I grimaced, worried I'd just been offensive. "I've heard they're skilled, but I don't know them. So I don't know if I should trust their skills just yet."

His lips stretched into a smile. "Fair point, Captive Lady. But I have bad news, I'm afraid. It's too early to use the library. The royals are very protective of it. There are posted hours for non-approved persons."

I pointed at my chest. "I'm not approved, I take it."

He mimicked my movement. "No, you are not."

I braced my hands on my hips, thinking. He went back to leaning on the wall patiently. Servants came and went around us, giving us a wide berth. He was the protection, I was the enemy, and they were just trying to do their jobs.

"How about the gardens, then?" I thought out loud, then bit my lip. "No, there really is no point unless I have something intelligent to offer. How about my stuff? If I can have my appliances and access to a few plants— Oh! My journals. That's a better use of my time. I need to finish up going through those and gathering information. That's something I can do in the tower. That way everyone can rest easy. Can I have my journals?"

He was back to watching me, but I could tell he was paying attention to my body language. I had no idea what he was reading.

"I can't get your journals," he said. "All of your things have been taken to the royals to look over."

"You can definitely take him. Lure him to a dark corner, knock him out, tie him up, and go find the library. This is doable. He's in the way."

I looked off to the side with one raised eyebrow and a deadpan stare and hoped she could feel it. That ridiculous plan didn't even warrant a vocal response. Tie him up? I didn't have any rope, and I doubted the servants would search out any for me, especially when they realized this man was nowhere in sight.

"What'd I miss?" the man asked, clearly seeing my expression.

I shook my head. "My wolf has delusions of grandeur. I haven't known her for long."

She growled within me.

"I heard. Let me save your wolf some trouble—a wolf can't take a dragon in animal form. It'll never happen. A wolf's strength is in pack unity?—"

I blinked up at him with wide, wonder-filled eyes and a smile. "You're a dragon?"

He paused with his mouth open. "Yes."

"That's so cool! What color are you? Do you glitter? Is your stomach a different color than your body? I just saw one like that and had never known that was a thing. Do you know the phoenix? What's he like?"

"You finally got to the babbling, I see," my wolf said dryly. "Much better than my plan, yes. Not at all embarrassing."

I snapped my mouth closed and was thankful to see him grinning.

"Come on, Captive Lady." He jerked his head in the opposite direction of the tower. "I know what we can do to pass the time."

I followed him like a little lamb, a habit from the village I couldn't seem to shake. Then again, it was better than being chased by him.

"My dragon is blue, and in the sun, yes, he glitters," the man said. "His stomach is a little lighter. He's preening to hear how excited you are about him."

"Do people ride on dragons?" I asked softly.

"Typically, no. For you, though, I feel like my dragon would find a way to make that happen."

I crossed my fingers. I really wanted to fly.

"Yesterday was my first time seeing a dragon," I said. "They are really fucking cool. I mean, you are, I guess. And big. I half hoped to be one, but I've been told I am a wolf."

"It would not be easy for a male wolf to fuck a dragon, so be happy you are a wolf like our mate," my animal said.

"You are definitely not a dragon, no," the man said. "Much too... calm, we'll say. You have this way about you—you make me feel very comfortable just now, even though you're obviously dangerous."

I chuckled. "I'm flattered, but I'm not dangerous. To you, I mean. Well... probably to anyone." I shrugged. "I've never had any training."

He looked down at me as he stuck out his arm, nearly the same length as my damn leg. I'd thought Weston was big, but this guy was fucking enormous.

Up ahead someone crested the flight of stairs onto the landing. Once they were out of the way, the man retracted his arm so we could pass the landing within the hallway.

"I think you lack confidence," he finally said. "As I said, in a solo match, a wolf will not beat a dragon. But we are humans. Maybe you don't know it yet, Captive Lady, but you are dangerous. It's in the way you walk, in your fearlessness. Let Weston guide you. He's the best non-dragon I have ever known. He'll bring out the ferocity that I saw furled within you as you approached me a moment ago. It made me nervous."

My middle warmed and I smiled, but my eyes got watery, and it made me frustrated because I had told myself the crying was over.

The man stopped at a closed door, his hand on the handle. "Are you laughing or crying? I can't tell."

"Nothing. Both? Neither. I don't know. It's just... Everyone in your pack has been so nice. That's not normally the case for me. It makes me a little sappy."

His eyes softened and he pulled his hand from the door, sticking it out for me to shake. "I'm Vemar. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. I'm Aurelia."

"Yes, I heard. Come on, Hadriel said you liked his jackets. Let's get you one so that you and he match. It will drive him crazy. It's endless fun."

"Oh..." I blew out a breath but followed him anyway, unsure about the whole jacket situation. This guy wasn't immediately bold and crass with the sexual talk, so that was something.

The room was an explosion of color with fabric everywhere, piled on chairs and heaping on tables. Some slid off into a bright puddle onto the ground, the early light catching the sequins and shooting flares of colored reflections across the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" A middle-aged man with a rounded belly stepped back from a human-shaped dress form half draped in a red sash. He had an accent, but I didn't know enough about the world to know where it might've come from. "Oh, it's you. Did we have an appointment? Who is this with you? You don't want your night to end? I don't care. She is much too small for you. Your peen would split her in two."

I froze on the spot. Vemar bumped into the back of me.

"It's fine." He patted my shoulder. "He says outlandish things all the time. Don't worry about it."

The man scoffed in indignation. "That is not outlandish. Look at you! You're twice her size!"

"Honestly, it's a lot nicer when Hadriel comes and distracts him," Vemar murmured, stepping around me and gesturing toward the man. "Aurelia, this is Cecil, the seamster. Cecil, she's our captive. Haven't you heard? She's the beta's true mate."

It took me a moment to process what he'd said, the words replaying in my mind as I tried to make sense of them.

My belly whooshed. "What did you say?" I put out my hand, catching his sequined sleeve. "I'm his what ?"

Cecil's eyes rounded. "Oh yes, I heard." He grinned. "I also heard that I wasn't supposed to tell her that she was his true mate. What did you hear? Something different?"

"What's a... a true mate?" I asked as tingles danced along my spine.

"What we are," my wolf told me. "You feel it. That is a mate."

I replayed her words: you feel it.

Feel it.

My mind replayed that night on the path, the very first time I touched him. I'd felt the pull of him. Thought he could never be real, not with how good everything felt. How perfect.

Even when we argued, fought, I couldn't help but close the distance to him. I couldn't help the desire to wrap my body around his and lose myself in the moment until its climax. I'd hated him in the beginning, hated him, and yet I'd still craved him in an unnatural way.

A primal way.

"What is a true mate?" I said more urgently, the butterflies in my belly turning ravenous. "I've never heard that term."

"Something humans make up to explain a mate."

My wolf had known Weston's wolf was her mate right away. She'd felt the pull, like I had. They—we—seemed like two halves of a whole, fitting together seamlessly. Perfectly.

Weston's growling declaration flashed through my memories.

You are mine.

"Can someone have more than one true mate?" I asked in a shaky voice, the enormity of this revelation seeping in.

"Just the one, Captive Lady," Vemar said, watching me closely. "Finding one's true mate is really quite rare."

The room started to spin as my world was tipped on its axis yet again.

Why hadn't Weston told me this from the beginning?

Then again, what would've been the point? I wouldn't have understood what it meant. I might've even held it against him, been angry at the pull I felt no control over. I would've blamed him when it wasn't his fault. I wouldn't have understood that it was fate, especially since I'd been so sure I hadn't had magic.

But why hadn't he told me after I got my animal?

I thought I knew the answer to that, too, though. He hadn't had the time. I'd climbed him like a tree the moment my wolf came roaring out, and then sulked about the four-way bond. I wouldn't have wanted to tell me then, either.

I let out a shaky breath.

I wasn't sure what to think. How to react. This sounded, well, special. Rare. I should feel privileged to have a true mate, not confused. Not kind of... let down.

Because a big part of me realized I hardly knew him. Certainly not well enough to consciously choose him. Part of me wanted to date for the first time. Wanted to meet new people and fall in love.

Being handed a mate—nature essentially assigning me one—felt like a cop-out, especially in our fucked-up situation. It felt disingenuous. I felt like I was being robbed of a choice, yet again.

I needed to think about this. I needed more details.

I needed all these revelations to just stop for a fucking second so I could catch my breath.

Vemar was still studying me. When my eyes met his, I knew he could tell how rattled I was. He nodded once in response.

"I just wanted to know if you were genuine, Captive Lady. I hope you understand. Given all we've learned in the last few years, nothing about you made any sense. I heard the head of the organization was cunning and cutthroat, with a way about her. That her people were good at lying, stealing, and cheating for her. You seem kind and genuine. Too na?ve to be a renowned drugmaker. The feelings I get when I'm around you don't make sense, either. I was in the demon dungeons. I know a mind-fuck when I feel it, and you, Captive Lady, are mind-fucking me."

Cecil's mouth clicked shut and mine dropped open. The people in this fucking kingdom! If they weren't accusing me of one thing, they were accusing me of another. The Granny thing—fine. Eventually, I got the picture. Now it was mind-fucking? Was this guy serious?

"Get him," my wolf growled. The accompanying surge of power was so potent that it blotted out all reason.

I ducked around him, registering his slow turn in response. From my bubble of adrenaline and anger, I registered he didn't put up his hands to defend himself, an action I found odd. I scooped up a pair of old-looking scissors, noting the hint of rust meant they were probably dull, and figured that would be good enough. I dipped back the way I'd come, rolled, stood up at his back... and wondered what in the holy fuck I was actually doing. Was I going to stab a guy for saying words I didn't like? Kill a guy who wasn't attacking me or putting me in any harm?

"What in the crap is wrong with you?" I yelled at my animal.

It took me a moment to realize my voice was reverberating against the walls, not an inward yell at all—and that I'd thrown the scissors in frustration.

"Oh my gods, I am so sorry!" The scissors were lodged in the back of Vemar's thigh. He'd frozen, his hands held high, not engaging. I'd stabbed an innocent guy for no fucking reason. "Fuck! Gods . . . Help! Help! Don't... move, probably? Don't move. I'm so sorry, I meant to throw them, but I wasn't aiming. I just— Don't—let's— Cecil, what do we do?"

"Enjoy the show, that is what I am doing," Cecil said, very unhelpfully.

"What? No! No, Vemar, don't move!" I pointed at Vemar because I didn't know what else to do. "Don't move. You have scissors stuck in your leg."

"Yes. And you put them there. Who are you hoping will help you, Captive Lady? Someone to take me down or bind me up?" He turned with a manic smile and started laughing. "That was refreshing. You're fierce when you lose track of yourself."

Hadriel was right. Dragons were crazy.

"I don't..." I was breathing heavily. I swiped my hair away. "It's fine. You're a shifter. You'll heal, right? So we need to pull them out."

He reached around, took hold of the scissors, and yanked.

I swayed and fanned my face. I suddenly felt a little faint.

"Whoops, here we go." Cecil directed me to sit in a chair. His smiling face filled my vision. "New animal, yes? Fun. Do not worry, he is the mad dragon. He don't care about a scissors. Dicks on a jacket, scissors... He don't care."

The door ripped open and Weston rushed in wearing boxer briefs and a glistening, sweaty chest, probably from the run here. His eyes were wild, sighting in on Vemar immediately.

Vemar put up his hands again. "I didn't touch her, boss. She stabbed me . I did not engage."

"It was my fault." I stood, swayed again, felt stupid for my reaction because this was all my fault, and then took a deep breath to try to steady myself. "It's fine. Sorry. I—" It all came out in a torrent of words. "I was okay but then my wolf threw power at me and then I was fighting her over scissors and I realized that was dumb so I threw them in a huff and..."

"I'm only bleeding a little," Vemar said, such a good sport.

"A little? He's bleeding all over my floor," Cecil grumbled, not as good a sport.

"Why are you out of your tower?" Weston stalked toward me, reaching me and cupping my face in his large, gentle hands. I swayed now for a different reason, soaking in the deliciousness of his proximity, drunk on his scent. His gaze slid over me and he stroked his thumb softly along my cheek, assessing for damage. I closed my eyes and basked in the exquisite hum of him.

True mate, the feeling whispered.

"Why are you fighting, Little Wolf?" His deep voice rumbled through his chest.

I struggled against the tide of his heat, the magnitude of my want.

I took a deep breath, wrapped my hands around his wrists, and fought the urge to run them up to his shoulders and down his chest, pushing him away instead. I was the logical one in my human/wolf pair. I owed it to both of us to learn more about this situation before allowing her to push us to act on it. I owed it to myself, maybe my future. I was just so confused about it all. About my wolf, about that burst of power—hell, I was still a captive, possibly facing a death sentence. How the fuck would a true mate situation even work?

"What happened?" Weston asked. "Why are you out of the tower?" he repeated.

"It was dawn," I said, sitting again. "I wanted to get to work. I picked the lock and Vemar found me in the hall. He said it wasn't okay for me to wander but decided it would be okay to run errands, so he brought me here. And was rewarded with scissors in his leg."

"Why did you stick scissors in his leg?" Weston demanded, delicately curling a lock of hair behind my ear. I shivered, wanting to stand up and work my way into his arms. But was that me, or just the bond?

Did it matter?

I took a deep breath, miserable with this confusion.

"Stop thinking so much. This is the way things should be," my wolf said.

"What do you know? You've been in the world for less than a day. "

"I stuck scissors in his leg because I think my animal is unhinged. Maybe I should just get a jacket covered in winged dicks so that I'll fit in with this crazy place—I don't know. Everyone seems a little off-kilter. If you can't beat 'em..."

"Let your mate destroy him," my wolf said. I nearly lost my shit again.

"She's on my last fucking nerve," I said to the room. "I'm about to shift just so Vemar's dragon can temper her a little."

"Hey." Weston's palm smoothed across my cheek. "We'll deal with this soon, okay? I promise. We'll get you shifting, and my wolf can help temper these primal surges. It's not uncommon—you have a lot of power and no idea what to do with it. Mistakes happen."

I nodded, unable to stop myself from leaning into his palm.

"Do you have time for her?" Weston asked Cecil, and his tone was much, much different. It was clear he wasn't being an alpha with me a moment ago.

"Yes, I do. I have the big dragon and now the little wolf. Dick jackets with wings for all." Cecil moved around, gathering fabric.

"Do you really have fabric with dicks with wings on it?" I asked in bewilderment.

"I have all the dick and a little vagine."

Weston kissed my forehead. "You don't need to keep Granny's hours," he murmured. "You're not under her influence anymore."

"I am, though. It's a race. I need to unravel her company before the dragons kill me or she captures me again. This is not a vacation, Weston. I have no excuse to rest. I will win this battle between us, even though it will crush me to do so. She will not keep this enterprise alive."

His plush lips thinned a little, but he didn't respond. His thumb glided down my cheek before he pulled away.

"Stay out of trouble," he told me seriously. "You were lucky it was Vemar. Any other dragon would've lost their head and reciprocated."

"Other dragon would not have put up hands, and would now be dead," Cecil said. "Lucky he only got it in leg, I think."

Weston didn't spare Cecil a glance, instead turning and sticking out his hand for Vemar. "Sorry about that. She's learning."

Vemar took it but shook his head. "She's beyond learning. She's starting to live. I'm here for it."

Confusion filtered through the bond, but then Weston was gone, closing the door with a last look at me before he did.

I turned and noticed Vemar staring at me. "You didn't tell him I told you he was your true mate."

"I figured that might've gotten you in trouble. I'm not interested in causing more problems. Besides, I want to get some more information before..."

Before what? He told Weston I knew? Gave in to it? Rejected it?

I didn't know.

"I just want to keep my head down and get my job done—" I cut off as Cecil tried to strip me. "Whoa, no." I pushed him away. "Really? You don't have a slip or something?"

Cecil stared at me. "I have slip. I have lots of slips. I have no idea where they are. You shifter, yes? You get nude a lot. I've seen all the boobs. Too many boobs. I don't care about boobs. Vagines, peens, I don't care. I just need measurements."

"Do you need some scissors?" Vemar asked me, his eyes sparkling again.

Cecil put up a finger. "I find slip."