22. Aurelia

Chapter 22

Aurelia

I felt worlds better after the bath and the pep talks from Hadriel and Leala, who hung around as I soaked. It helped that they told me stories of when the queen was new and giving the king hell. Really helped, actually. I wasn't nearly so bad by comparison.

A knock sounded at the door, and I found myself hoping it was Weston despite the lack of sensation in the bond. Turned out it was Dante, book in hand, annoyance on his face.

"Really?" he asked as he barged in. "You'd rather spend all day blowing yourself up instead of finishing this book? We're halfway in—we need to see what happens!"

Tanix, Sixten, and Nova followed him in, looking around as they entered.

"Sweet place," Sixten said, plopping down on the couch. "It feels like you. Did the beta set this up?"

"Yeah, he decorated and everything." I peeked out the door to make sure no one else was there before I shut it. A maid down the hall saw me and startled, clutched some sort of fabric to her chest, and hurried away.

That couldn't be good.

"He's thoughtful like that," Sixten commented, fluffing a couch pillow.

"Stop." Dante froze, staring at the kitchen, book in hand with thumb in its crack to mark his place. "Stop right there. What is happening?"

"Ooooh." Tanix clapped Dante on the shoulder as he neared, staring at the kitchen. "She's cooking. Good call on barging in, brother. This is officially your best idea."

"She's cooking?" Nova, who'd been busying herself by looking through the opened book on my dining nook table, walked over. While the beef braised—Hadriel had gotten yelled at and chased out of the kitchens for trying to steal some lamb—I'd been doing some necessary research. I had a million ideas racing around my head. "Is there enough for everyone?"

"If not, I'm happy with just a bite." Dante raised his hand. "Just a little morsel would be fine for me."

"There's..." I pursed my lips as I thought over everything. "There'll be enough for an appetizer if we all share. I want to save a plate for Weston, but Hadriel and I can get dinner from the kitchens."

"No, Aurelia." Tanix gave me a stern look. "You're not going to do all this work just to feed everyone else and not yourself. We'll eat from the kitchen."

"No, no, it's really okay. I love cooking—it relaxes me. The castle has plenty of hot food. It'll be great. I have a hankering for cheese, anyway."

Tanix gestured at Nova.

"Cheese, bread, nibbles, on it." She took off out the door.

"No, really?—"

"No, really ." Tanix arched an eyebrow. "It's good. Let's get to reading. Do you have time?"

I glanced at the books on the table. I had plenty to get me started for tomorrow morning, and it had been a long day. I could really use some wind-down time. Besides, people actually wanted to hang out with me when they didn't have to? That was a treat in and of itself.

"Of course. I'm..." I pointed toward the bedroom. "You guys all know I draw, right? It's not a secret?"

"We're not supposed to mention it or speak about it in any way, lest you think we invaded your privacy," Dante said, grunting as he sank into the couch. "But we do know, yes."

"Way to call out the beta, dick." Sixten punched him in the arm.

"She's not stupid, vadge," Dante replied.

"Okay, well.. . While you read, do you mind if I try to paint? I've never had paints and it'll probably be a mess, but I thought I might give it a go."

"All the gold you made for Granny and you never had paints," Dante murmured, shaking his head as he spread open the book.

Sixten rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. Yes, paint, absolutely. Can I try, too, if you don't mind? I suck at it, but it's fun."

"Need help?" Tanix paused in the process of sitting.

"I got it." Sixten waved him away.

"You should take Liron's class," she told me as we entered the bedroom. "Oh shit, good thing Tanix didn't come back here. The beta would lose his shit if that male entered your bedroom."

I led her through to the art area.

"Oh wow, look at this." She nodded as she looked around. "The beta did all this?"

"Yeah," I said sheepishly, gathering the supplies. "He was nervous to tell me about it, as though I wouldn't like it."

"That wolf is thoughtful as shit," she said under her breath.

Butterflies once again fluttered through my belly. My face heated and I shrugged, all warm and tingly inside. "It's probably just the true mate bond," I said to deflect.

"No, girl. No." She shook her head adamantly. "The true mate bond would usually have him moving you into his room and trying to keep you there to best protect you. The true mate bond should have him claiming you the second he had access and killing anyone who looked at you. I've seen lesser wolves, male and female, lose their minds with just a claiming. This?" She gestured around, not just at the art, but the room as a whole. "Allowing you your freedom speaks of the control that he's known for. The art, though? The kitchen? That speaks to the man. You wouldn't know because you haven't been around any decent shifters, but trust me, this ?" Now she gestured specifically at the art space. "This is courting-type stuff. Milk this shit. Milk it for all it is worth, girl. You've clearly got your own control. Use it."

I was reflective as we moved the supplies into the front room, setting up to paint as I mulled over what she'd said. No one had explained the difference between the bond and the man. Or even how extreme the bond made some people, and how much Weston wasn't acting on that primal pull. He was holding back, actually, giving me space. Giving me the freedom I'd requested. The freedom to make up my mind. His actions weren't because of the bond—they were despite it.

My belly fluttered, the warmth and affection that had been growing for him since the start of our journey infused within me. He might've noticed the things I liked because of his job and the bond, but he'd gone out of his way to use that knowledge to make a home for me here. He'd held back with me earlier this morning, controlled himself when I hadn't even known up from down...

My lack of knowledge about the bond had made it seem limiting, burdensome. My heart continued to soar as I felt those shackles loosen, cut free. I felt lighter. Released, almost.

A timer dinged, snapping me out of my reverie just as Sixten let Nova back in the room. I stopped to check on the food. The beef was steaming away and the vegetables were ready to go in. Nova had come back with a huge assortment of cheeses and assorted nibbles, including bland chicken wings, little pieces of pork on too-soft bread, and some sort of tomato-cheese thing with the wrong seasonings.

I didn't mention any of my criticisms, of course. Getting used to someone else's cooking was going to be an adjustment. Figuring how to get food I could cook myself from the kitchens was moved to the top of my to-do list.

Dante began reading, and Sixten and I painted. Two chapters later, three quick knocks sounded on the door just before it opened, and Hadriel walked in. "What the fuck is all this?"

Everyone looked up with food in their mouths.

"It is a collection of highly intelligent individuals enjoying a sophisticated read and a bite to eat." Dante gave Hadriel a haughty look. "Now, where was I?"

"You were not going to get to the part where the very interesting villain gets the girl," Tanix said, crossing his arms. "The book is poorer for it."

"Aurelia, love—suck my balls, what is this ?" Hadriel leaned over my shoulder, looking at my painting.

"Yeah." I lowered my brush. "I'm not really getting the hang of mixing the colors. I need to see about Liron's classes, assuming he doesn't invite me to any more orgies. Or see if there is a book on it."

"Do not bother with that cornholing jackass. Or, if you must, spend your time painting dicks in his class. That would be good enough for him. No, love, despite the questionable color choices, this is... fantastic. I love it! Once you figure out the colors, do it again and present it to the king."

"What is it?" Dante lowered the book, and Sixten stopped in her progress to lean around my canvas.

"You knew it was supposed to be the king?" I'd tried to paint him from earlier in the day, when he'd been at his most terrifying. He'd frozen up my wolf at first, appearing as big as the world, blotting out the sun, eclipsing the trees. It seemed as though fire had rolled across his glittering golden scales and the ground had shaken under our feet. Most of that was terror turned imagination, but I'd tried to draw it all, purging the feelings onto the canvas.

What I'd ended up with was an orange-yellow lizard creature with crimson fire and blue trees. Not great.

"Yeah, bro, that's cool." Sixten looked back at her canvas. "I fucking suck at this."

"Lemme see." Hadriel moved to behind her. He patted her shoulder. "Well, it's lucky you have other strengths."

"Oh, fuck off," she grumbled, looking back over at my canvas.

I laughed and got up to shut the door, finding Vemar just down the hall, sauntering toward us.

I paused and pointed within. "Are you coming in here?"

"I would love to, Captive Lady. I just came to make sure you planned to get up early. I don't want to bother you if you want to sleep in."

"I don't really sleep in."

"Neither do I. I'll be waiting for you down the hall first thing in the morning." He glanced into the interior of my room. "Oh! I see we have a party."

He slipped inside, and I finally closed the door.

"Oh no, not you too!" Hadriel exclaimed. "You eat like a fucking horse. Now there'll never be enough."

"Enough of what?" Vemar asked, looking at my painting. "Is this some sort of dreamy landscape or something? That's supposed to be the king, right?"

"Here, look at Sixten's—it makes Aurelia's look better," Dante said, having gotten up to see the paintings.

Sixten twisted to look up at him. "Let's see you do it."

"Can't, I'm afraid. Someone has to read, and only one of us knows how."

"Would you like something to eat?" I pointed at the various options. "I have braised beef and vegetables cooking—they're almost done—and some salad to go with it. I'll have enough salad for everyone, but sadly, the beef will just be a taste."

"It would've been a big meal for four until all you fuckers showed up," Hadriel groused.

"You thought you had a nice little secret, didn't you?" Dante told him. "You didn't mention the kitchen to anyone. Very sneaky."

"That wasn't my secret." Hadriel put his hand on his chest. "That information is between her and the beta. What's the beta going to eat now?"

"Oh, he'll have his full meal, don't you worry." Tanix clapped a hand on Hadriel's shoulder, making him jump. "You, however?—"

"I would advise you to remove your hand from my little buddy," Vemar said, darkening the room with his building rage.

"Okay, okay." I put up my hands. "Let's all mind our manners. If you guys want, I can cook a big stew tomorrow and we can all have some. Or, if you can somehow procure a pig, I can roast it in the ground early tomorrow morning and we can have a small feast tomorrow night for dinner. I have all these new spices to try, so I'm happy to make enough for everyone."

Everyone looked around at each other. "Pig," Sixten and Tanix said together.

"Pig," Dante repeated, nodding.

"Definitely the pig." Hadriel clapped. "I'm on it." He turned to go.

"Wait, who was the fourth?" I called.

He paused. "Anyone who wandered in, smelled what was up, and stayed for dinner."

"Smart," Sixten murmured, back to her painting.

Once the beef was done, I set aside a plate for Weston and handed out portions to everyone. The new spices I'd used were a little off and my critique of it made everyone angry, so I used my new journal to write down how I'd prepared it and make notes of things I would change for the next time.

After everyone had eaten their bites and cleared the trays Nova had brought, Dante put a placeholder in the book, put it in my bookcase, and everyone said their goodbyes. The glow of their company lingered in the silence of their wake. This evening had been truly exceptional. The food had been decent at best and the painting was a mess, but the friendship and camaraderie would be cherished for the rest of my life.

I checked the fire in the stove. It was slowly dying, the oven losing its temperature. Soon Weston's food would go cold.

Full night had fallen. Bedtime was close. He would've come by now if he'd planned to.

"Go to him," my wolf pushed, anxious to be in the vicinity of her mate again.

I rested my hand on the door, thinking about it. But honestly, he had never been shy about stopping in when he wanted to see me. He'd had long days since he'd gotten back. He was probably tired.

I slid my hand away, feeling a strange hollowness inside that he hadn't come. I didn't like it. Gods, what if he was meeting with another woman? What if?—

Panic seized me, along with anger, and I spun for the door again. Only when it was halfway open did I pause, breathe, and slowly unwrap my fingers from the handle.

What he did in his free time was none of my business. I'd been the one to create distance between us. We were lovers. We'd been forced into proximity on the trip, but now we had our own lives, our own struggles. I couldn't stop him from finding a mate. I shouldn't. It wasn't fair.

"You're his mate, you fuzzy-minded cow," my wolf barked at me. " You are his mate. The human wants you. Go to him."

The human was giving me my freedom. I couldn't, in turn, strip away his.

I closed the door slowly, heart lodged in my throat, fighting against my instincts. Fighting against my wolf.

Through deep breath after deep breath, I put everything in the kitchen back in order before tucking away my art supplies. I placed my journal back on my desk and wrote a quick entry about what I was feeling: missing Weston, wanting to be with him, kicking myself for this frustrated fear of being trapped into a life I hadn't expressly chosen. At the end I put in a memory of my mom, and then spoke directly to her, wishing she was here to give me advice. Wishing she was here to meet the man that didn't exactly fit the fairytale mold, but would if the villain could turn into the good guy.

When I was finished, I straightened my desk, pushing a stray container back to its place, and noticed a slip of paper sticking out from under it. Pulling it out to put it away properly, I noticed what was on it.

Weston's neat writing filled the page.

If you need anything, even just a warm body to sleep next to, come to me. Anytime. X marks the spot.

A smile stretched across my lips.

X marks the spot?

I looked around my art room but knew there was no X in here. I would've noticed—just like I'd noticed his cleverly hidden note under the thing he'd moved, knowing I wouldn't be able to relax until I'd put it back in its correct place. Nothing in the front room, either; I'd been through there.

In my bedroom, I looked around my bed, creased from when I'd sat on it earlier. My wardrobe was closed. My shades had been drawn by Leala, who'd gotten things ready for bed before being released for the evening. Near the back corner, though, I found a piece of paper taped to a panel next to the stone hearth. After peeling it off, I found a tiny indent, nothing more than a compressed part of the wood.

Frowning, I scratched it, and then pushed, trying to figure out why X marked this spot.

Pushing did the trick.

A click sounded from behind the panel and it popped open.

"No way..." I said softly, pulling the panel open and peering in. A small stone tunnel ran along the back of my room, clearly a secret passageway. "This castle just keeps getting better. Dragons and a secret passageway?"

Another note waited on the ground featuring an arrow to point me in the right direction.

Hurrying now, I ran back inside the room and grabbed Weston's food and the leftover bottle of wine from dinner then sped into the passageway, leaving the panel open just in case. Little tunnels led away from this one, each lined with alcoves that must have led to other rooms throughout the castle. At every intersection I came to, there was another note with an arrow. Two notes up and the arrow pointed right. I stopped in front of the alcove with a note taped on, the arrow pointing to a little keyhole. There was no key.

Giggling to myself, I set his food down and retraced my steps back to my room, finding tools that would work in no time. I closed my panel, finding such a keyhole on the backside and marveling that you couldn't see it from the front. At his door, I made short work of the lock and pushed my way inside, stopping to grab the food and closing the door behind me.

In any other situation, I would've been worried this was a trick; a woman had to be wary of randomly being lured into someone else's bedchamber. I knew, though, without a doubt, that this was Weston. No one else would know I'd find those clues, as subtle as they were, as perfectly placed.

In his huge bedroom, his bed had been turned down and the curtains drawn. Soft indigo light, now reminding me of Calia's eyes, glowed from atop a trunk at the far side of the bed. He'd retrieved my lantern. He must've had her turn it on for him.

Shadows from candles in the candelabra flickered throughout the space. I thought back to our conversation the previous day and warmed at the thought he'd paid attention to what I said. I took several steps toward the front room and spotted Weston. He was sitting in his well-worn chair, dressed in loose, comfortable pants and a plain, snug shirt, feet propped up on an ottoman. A soft light glowed from behind him, illuminating the book in his hands.

He glanced up when he saw me, eyes creasing at the corners with the beginnings of a smile.

"Hey, baby," he said affectionately, no note of surprise that I'd come. He noticed the items in my hands. "What've you got there?"

I released my breath into a smile and walked forward. "A lukewarm dinner with an odd use of spices that has probably been sitting too long. A few of the pack members from our journey stopped by. Hadriel was upset that he only got to eat just a few bites rather than the full dinner he thought he'd stolen. The others gave him a lot of shit for it, too."

Weston smiled and put down his book. "I heard the commotion as I passed by. I figured you were having a good time."

"Why didn't you stop in?" On impulse, I walked directly to him and waited for him to set his feet on the floor. I sat on his lap and pulled the cloche off the serving tray to show him the meal. "Crap, I forgot a fork."

"It's okay." He leaned back and settled one of his hands on my lower back. "Fingers are fine." He dropped the other hand to my knee. "I didn't want to ruin the fun."

I hesitated. "Are you not hungry?"

"On the contrary. I am very hungry." He waited expectantly.

My stomach fluttered with the desire to feed him. It felt more intimate than a kiss, somehow. More poignant than verbalizing my growing feelings. More sensual than eating usually would. I wanted to take care of him, to nurture him maybe, as he had done for me. Creating a home had been his way. Making him dinner, and now feeding him, was mine.

I hesitantly plucked a potato from the plate, never having done this before. As when he'd washed me that time in the port city, I was strangely nervous, unsure what to do. I put it to my lips for a moment to test the temperature before reaching it out. His eyes bored into mine. He wrapped his lips around it, grazing my fingers in the process, before chewing.

"Mmm," he said, his thumb stroking my knee. "Delicious."

"You people have no taste buds," I murmured, grabbing a carrot this time.

He smiled. "Maybe we aren't as fussy as you are."

"You should be. Good food is one of life's great pleasures."

"So it seems."

"Here." I grabbed his hand and shoved the plate into it as heat dripped down into my core. "You need to be the table so I can use both hands for the meat."

His eyes were so intense. He did as I said, eating whatever I gave him, even closing his eyes at one point to savor the taste. After trying the bland chicken from the kitchen earlier, I understood why people would think even incorrectly used spices were a treat. He finished every bite and pulled me closer for a kiss when he was done.

"That was delicious, baby. Thank you. Do you need help cleaning your place up?"

"No, that's all done. Listen... I know you give the pack room so that they can relax, but maybe... Can you hang out more and show them that when you're not on duty, you're a little more chill?"

He took the plate from my hands and set it on the side table. He pulled me closer, tucking me against his body. I curled my legs into his lap.

"It doesn't really work like that. I can relax with the royals to an extent because we all understand each other. I know my place, and they never have to worry about me forgetting it. Hadriel and Vemar, who are a bit removed from everything with the pack, are fine. Everyone else, including the dragons, tend to forget themselves at times. They might get too drunk, feel my power, and want to take me on just to see how it would go. They might get too friendly and think they don't have to treat me as a commander, wanting allowances for friendship. There are a great many ways things can break down when in my position, and it is safer for everyone if we maintain the status quo."

"So you can't ever hang out with me when I'm with them?"

"I can hang out when everyone is minding their manners. I have to excuse myself if things start to get rowdy."

I traced my fingers along his neck and then his chin, feeling the rough stubble. He ran his palm along my back.

"That life sounds lonely," I whispered.

"It's the job, and I love my job. I handle the setbacks in order to do it."

I pushed up so that my face was even with his, sucking in his bottom lip. "Do you want me to get more wine so that you have someone to get drunk and rowdy with? I might feel your power and want to take you on, but that usually ends in a real nice time."

He smiled against my lips. "Not tonight. I promised I'd take you slow, and I intend to."

He held me close as he deepened the kiss, lightly cupping my jaw. I fell into the warmth against my skin, the warmth within my heart. He stood with me in his arms, stopping by the candles to blow them out before walking me into his room.

"Fire hazard," he murmured, his lips curling against mine.

He let me drift down his body until my feet hit the floor, then used both hands to cup my face, his kiss languid and soft, gentle and full of feeling.

Something moved within me, way down deep. The warmth from a moment ago started to blossom, spilling into my body, out through my lips. I was high on it, enveloped within it, connecting with him now in a way I hadn't before.

I pushed up his shirt, needing to feel more of him. He yanked the fabric over his head quickly so that he could return to our kiss. I pushed down his pants as he lifted my shirt over my head. By the time I'd stripped it off, he had his pants on the floor and was working my trousers off.

"Weston," I murmured urgently, a plea, a feeling, my hands all over him as he guided me backward onto the bed.

He kissed me as he slid onto the bed with me, his lips never far from mine. I groaned as his hands ran up my chest, over my skin, between my thighs, his tongue chasing mine.

I gripped his shoulders as he settled between my legs, fisted his hair when I wrapped my legs around him, closed my eyes in ecstasy as his cock found its home deep within me.

"Weston..." I said again reverently. Needing him. Wanting him. On the verge of choosing him. I just needed a push. A way to get around my fear of giving my heart to another after it had been trampled on so thoroughly.

He moved within me, his kiss so deep, his body in mine deeper.

"Aurelia," he whispered against my lips, his fingers threading through mine, his strokes long and slow.

I whimpered, writhing under him, feeling his raw emotion through the bond. His honesty. His devotion.

Tears caught in my lashes with the sweetness of his lovemaking, genuine, unapologetic. I opened myself to it, to him, soaking in the sensations, expressing the emotions.

His lips still touching mine, he breathed heavily as he stroked, our bodies working to get closer, climb higher.

"Oh gods, Aurelia..." His moan sounded like a victory.

I clutched him now, digging in my fingers, not wanting to let go of the moment. Of him. Maybe ever. He wrapped his arms around me, his lips never leaving mine, sharing our passion. He reached one hand down to the swell of my butt, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders, holding me put as his knot butted against me.

"Gods, yes," I breathed, lifting my head to get at his lips.

He thrust himself in fully, his movements getting smaller so he'd stay lodged inside, his arm around my shoulders shifting to cup the back of my head.

He pulled back a little now, his beautiful gray eyes looking down at me, into me. I met his gaze, opening up just that little bit more, finding myself at a precipice but scared to teeter over.

A little smile curved his full lips. His nod was slight yet confident. He clearly knew what I felt. He didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

He kissed me again. All-consuming, pulling at my soul until he could entwine it with his own. My world unraveled until this moment consisted of only him and me, our bodies, our hearts.

"I'm scared," I admitted, knowing he would understand what I meant.

"I know. Don't rush it. Let it come naturally." He nipped at my lips. "Just feel it."

And I did. With him guiding me as his wolf guided mine, I gave myself over to the emotions coursing through the bond. Through my soul. I allowed them to sweep me away, trusting he would keep me tethered.

His movements became faster, his kiss deeper. His arms wrapped tightly around me like he wouldn't ever let me go. I lost myself in his embrace and the delicious friction our bodies created and hit a high that stole my breath.

I cried out, shaking against him. His answering shudder echoed through my body, and the admissions I'd made earlier in the day came rushing back to me. Some had been in the heat of the moment.

All had been true.

Another shock of desire coursed through me, and I gripped him tightly. As I continued to rock against him, I knew I might not be totally ready yet, but I was almost there. I knew it wouldn't take much until I was lost forever.