19. Weston

Chapter 19

Weston

I settled on: "That you will go on to live a happy life with as many children as you want."

It would do.

For now.

Her smile was intimate and grateful, her eyes open and hopeful. She didn't comment, so I handed her the books, stacking them so high she could barely see over them, and opened the door while she laughed.

"Welcome to your new lodgings." I chuckled as I took all the books so that she could go in first.

"Crap, it's huge."

"I know, but what do you think of the room?"

"Har-har." She paused briefly. "Your dick is huge, though. Not sure I ever mentioned that." She gave me a naughty, heat-soaked look.

"You didn't have to mention it. You were wincing when I first put it in you. Want a ride?"

"Meh." She shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe later."

The bond betrayed her unaffected tone, as it did mine. Another game—this one trying to pretend the other person wasn't affecting them—equally as fun. Who would break first? I wondered.

Her quarters were nowhere near as big as mine, but still lavish for a visitor of mid- to high status, with plenty of space and all the essential furnishings.

"This is what we did to create a makeshift kitchen."

I showed her the large boiling pot over the fire, a setup for pan frying, and a very small wood-fueled oven. Rooms in the castle weren't really outfitted for people to do their individual cooking—we had a fully staffed kitchen for that—but Burt, I mean Sylvester, had come through. He'd rigged this up. It should work for her needs.

I put my hand on a large counter space where lady's maids usually assembled or prepared the breakfast trays, snacks, and other comestibles. Along the back were two blocks of knives and various other gadgets Sylvester said he knew she'd want.

"I had your spices put here. The ones we had in the kitchen were restocked, and anything we didn't have has been ordered. Most we had to order. We did have some that you didn't, however, so I had a second rack installed so that you had everything available. If you find more you need, just let me know."

Her expression was blank as she looked over the new selection. The bond was colored with too many emotions to process, so I moved on, strangely nervous now.

"I didn't know about décor." I motioned to the pillows and various art on the walls. "I guessed your style based on what I saw at your cottage, but you can change anything you want, just let the staff know. They have standing orders to charge anything you require to me. Don't worry about spending too much—it's yours." I stopped at the sliding glass door and looked out at the colorful but small garden with the little iron table sitting on the adjoining terrace. "The staff will keep the flowers alive for you." I grinned at her, but her expression was still unreadable.

In the bedroom, I stood against the wall and cleared my throat. We couldn't derail the tour here. I had one important thing to show her, not to mention she was covered in glass and burns. She needed some medical aid or time to heal before we wrestled in the sheets.

"The bed isn't as big as mine, and neither is the bathtub. This suite is for visiting non-dragons. The sizes are proportioned accordingly."

"Is the bed as soft as yours?" she murmured.

"Yes. Every bit. I made sure of it. Same bed linens, same fluffy pillows. I know you like that."

She looked around. Still, she showed no reaction, though I felt a plethora of emotions in the bond.

"Clothes are coming." I opened the armoire. "There are some things in here that Leala guessed might fit just to tide you over. You're technically a captive, so you don't need fancy dresses yet. It's mostly working attire. Although there really is no telling what Cecil is making. He apparently had a flash of inspiration from you and is working on a wardrobe. Everyone is annoyed because he delayed their orders. We'll get you into the new dressmaker as soon as she has an opening. Right now she's tending to everyone Cecil is shrugging off, but she's curious. That's probably a good thing for you. She'll make time."

I closed the armoire and pointed at the washroom.

"You have the essentials, and I ordered a few extras I thought you might like. You can have Leala change out the fragrances and everything as you see fit. I believe there are a lot of options. I've never really paid attention."

I edged over to the closed, sliding double doors.

"And there's one more thing." I started to sweat a little. "Oh, actually, two things. The bookcase is empty because I thought you'd like to fill it yourself. The library is huge. The fun is in the hunt, right? So you can take out any book as needed as long as you stop throwing them at the king."

Her grin was slight, but it was there.

"Okay, the last thing..." I grabbed the handles on the double doors. "Usually the rooms have more pieces of furniture—armoires, dressers, trunks, that sort of thing. Since you don't currently have much, I figured we could leave this area for..." I pushed open the doors, first one and then the other, stepping back into the bedroom instead of crossing the threshold. "This."

Inside waited various stands and easels, racks for paints and charcoals, colored pencils and pastels. Containers held instruments with which to draw, and blank canvases leaned up against the wall. A desk in the corner had her new journal, opened to the first blank page, a quill and pot of ink beside it. It was how the writing station in her cottage had been set up.

A few of her renderings from the village were set out on the stands to show her how that would work, and a couple I'd had framed. They leaned against the far wall, out of the way.

"I thought maybe..." I wiped my brow, still so unbearably nervous. I wanted to make this perfect for her. To give her the makings of a home, a comfortable place where she could rest and relax. I wanted to impress her. To please her. "I know you said your art was private, but I'd already had it packed up and brought with us before you said that. No one looked through it, though, after loading it up, I promise."

"Why?" The word was so faint I barely heard it. I turned to look at her then. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. "Why did you bring it?"

My chest tightened with something like dread. "This work, and your cooking, seemed like passions of yours. I thought... I just thought..." I cleared my throat again. I was sweating like some sort of farm animal. "I thought that maybe you'd want them with you. If I had created such beautiful art—if I had put the amount of passion and heart into them that you have—I would want to keep it."

"But you thought I was evil, a killer. You were taking me captive. To kill me. Why go through the trouble?"

I searched for something to say but came up blank. "I-I don't know. It just... felt right, I guess."

"Because of the true mate bond."

"Likely. Should I have it removed? This room is intended to be dressing chambers. If you don't like it, I can bring back the furniture I had removed. We can get you those dresses, if you want, and we can have dinners in our rooms or out in the garden..."

I realized I was basically babbling and stopped the onslaught of words.

She looked at her work on the stands and then skirted along the perimeter of the room, running her finger across one surface and then another. Only once did she push something back a little, just that tiny bit out of place, until she reached one of the containers on the desk. I'd left that one obviously and wildly out of place on purpose. I watched her ear lift, a smile, before she slid it in line with the others. She'd caught the joke.

Finally at the framed pictures, she turned and pointed, eyebrows raised.

I needed to stop clearing my throat. "Those were my favorites. I'd already looked through everything, so I figured the damage was done. It was to show you the framing options for any of the finished pieces you'd like to preserve."

She turned back to them, four in all, pulling one of the frames away to look at the work behind.

"If it's too much, I can have it all removed, Aurelia. Just say the word."

Her emotions were still too frenzied to read. She turned and finally faced me, her lips quivering.

"You organized it all just how I like it. You knew."

The tension in my shoulders eased a little, though I was beginning to feel a bit sheepish. "Yes. Except the bedroom. I know you prefer a little more chaos there, but, well, that's kind of hard to stage. It needs to be used, lived in, for the sort of chaos you like."

She laughed a little, and her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't even know that about myself. Did you do all this?"

"Yes. Well, no. Sylvester basically put the kitchen together. I didn't know how to go about that. The garden was there. I wouldn't have a clue on how to deal with that. Liron, the painting instructor here, helped me with the things you were likely to need. The bed was just ordering the right stuff from the laundry?—"

"No, I mean..." She licked her lips as a single tear spilled down one cheek. She wiped it away. "No one else went through my cottage in Granny's village to help you piece all this together?"

"Helped a little, maybe, but no one was allowed to peruse. They took what I told them to grab and they got out. I didn't let anyone else snoop, Aurelia, I promise."

She shook her head. I still didn't understand; I couldn't tell if she was angry or happy or sad. "You hated everything I stood for, yet you took the time and effort to bring with me the things that meant the most to me in the world."

"Not technically. I'm sure there were gifts from Granny I missed."

"You know me so"—her lower lip trembled—"so, so well. You've tried so hard to know me and you've"—more tears fell—"you've nailed it. This is the"—she choked back a sob—"the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. Ever. It's the most... perfect, most magical space I've ever had. In a dragon castle, no less." She laughed through her tears. "My mom would..." She choked back another sob. "My mom would be so happy for me," she whispered, trying to get a hold of herself. "I could die tomorrow, with nothing else in the world, and I would be happy that I could recount all this to my mom."

I went to her. "You'll have many more stories to tell her, baby. I promise. But not for a long, long time. She'll wait for you, happily."

She put her hands on my chest. "I don't know you well enough to pull off something like this, and I feel awful about it. Why don't I have the same instincts with the bond that you do? Why doesn't it hurt me when someone mentions you're in pain the way the bond hurts you?"

"She's too locked in her logic," my wolf said. "Her wolf is frustrated by it, but I think you're right—it's a coping mechanism. She's trying to limit her wolf's influence so she doesn't do things like crawl out second-story windows. But it's stifling the true mate bond."

He wasn't wrong, but I understood. "She's always used logic. Her feelings—and her magic—were locked away. It's how she survived Granny. She won't submit to me simply because her primal urges tell her to; she'll submit to me because she loves me, all on her own. This space was the first step in showing her how perfect we are together. We now have more time than we thought we would. We just need to keep at it until she finally sees what we've known."

In answer to her questions, I smiled down on her. "I had to read your journals, remember? We had to hash out your life. I looked through your things and remembered what I saw out of duty; I was on the job, and I'm damn good at it. You're just playing catch-up. You organized my whole room but left my books alone, right? You clearly knew I didn't like those messed with."

The wheels turned behind those beautiful, glistening eyes.

"And you would've withheld from the royals that I let you escape on our journey, even though the king threatened to make you talk." I kissed her nose. "You didn't feel hurt because you planned to take the pain instead of letting them go after me. Give yourself a break, Little Wolf. This is all new to you. Take it slow."

"Patience," she breathed, using the word I had with her earlier. She looked at my lips. "I have to pick out some glass, but then I want—no, need —you to take me slow."

I kissed her, long and languidly, afraid to run my hands over her lest I make it that much harder to take out the shards of glass. I couldn't imagine having glass sticking out of me and just leaving it there because I knew the healing process would inevitably force it out. I couldn't imagine ignoring pain of that magnitude.

"She'll be dangerous to herself in battle," my wolf said. "Her wolf won't feel pain like other shifters and has an incredible drive for action and violence. I think she wants to make up for all the memories of the abuse she suffered in human form when she was suppressed and had no choice but to take it."

"You know all about that."

"Many years of experience have taught me to temper it, same as you. She is fully grown, with a lot of power. She's going to be a handful."

"That's your problem. I look after the human, you look after the wolf."

His growl made me smile.

"What?" she murmured against my lips as a knock sounded at the exterior door.

"Expecting someone?" we asked together, and she laughed.

"Obviously I wasn't. I didn't even know where I lived." She pulled out of my arms and, with one last longing look at her new artsy sanctuary, headed for the door. "I'll need food to cook. Oh! I need to get some books on baking. I used to love bak?—"

Her words cut off, and I saw why. Hannon waited at the door in a smart dress shirt that showed off his broad shoulders. His snug pants showcased his powerful legs. He didn't have my stature, but he was no slouch.

My wolf prowled restlessly, but only recognition came through the bond. Her smile was friendly. I tempered the urge to rush forward and throw him out of here on his ass.

"Hey." Hannon's smile was intimate. "Arleth would like to plant that Moonfire Lily, and asked that you come and give your insight. I believe you have some time before your first shift?"

He looked at me then for confirmation. There were no obvious traces of rivalry, but he was clearly paying no mind to my primal true mate claim. It was a dangerous line to walk in the shifter world.

"Oh..." Aurelia glanced back at me, traces of guilt in the bond, looking suddenly unsure.

"Go." I stopped beside her, my hard eyes on Hannon, and bent to kiss her head. "Have fun, baby. I'll see you later. Stay safe—no more glass explosions."

She laughed, relieved, watching me go. "See you later."

I winked at her. Outwardly, I remained unaffected by another male vying for her attention. I didn't want her to think I was trying to cage her as Granny had done. If she needed to flirt and see what was out there, I'd endure it for her sake.

Inwardly I wanted to rip his pretty face off and shove it up his ass before killing him again, and again, and again, waiting for him to come back to life each time before re-teaching the lesson: do not fuck around with my mate. Touch her and you will fucking die .