Chapter Nine

For the rest of the day, I’m so wound up and on such high alert that I get my daily tasks done in a fraction of the time. That leaves room for me to focus on my painting for a few hours—a novelty I usually only experience late at night.

At six that evening, three knocks sound on my front door. This time they’re not booming or invasive—they sound as though a human made them.

Assuming that Mariketa’s dropping by, which isn’t entirely uncommon, I wipe my paint-stained hands on a rag, walk through the house, and open the door without much forethought.

The pleasant mood that was built in me throughout the last several hours as I painted and spent time with Leisel dissipates. The man standing in my doorway is very clearly a mythic—a shifter from the Rockwell Pack, no doubt.

I feel my jaw clench as I regard him. He’s dressed in semi-casual clothing—as the rest of the pack members have been the few times I’ve glimpsed them—simple beige trousers and a blue shirt with buttons running down the front. I’m sure shifters all dress much differently when they’re in their home territories, likely draping themselves in regal, expensive clothes, the prices of which could feed a human family for a month.

Having no interest in conversing with a shifter—neither Leisel nor I owe them anything—I slam the door in his face.

Or try to. He stops it with a big hand braced in the center of the wood.

“Get off my property,” I say between gritted teeth.

He doesn’t appear angry at my hostility, which is somewhat of a surprise, since shifters are known for short tempers and low tolerance of humans. Then I recall Aspen’s words; I have no wish to harm my future queen. At the time, I was too distracted by the upcoming duel to focus much on them. Now, I recognize the undercurrent of what she said—a loyalty of sorts.

Even though I have no intention of accepting Camden, it looks like being his mate automatically puts me at the top of their hierarchy—right next to him. Which means that the pack members just might automatically afford me some measure of respect.

I don’t like getting things automatically. I prefer earning what I have. I work my ass off to earn a livable, somewhat comfortable life for Leisel and me. I’ve worked for hundreds of hours to hone my painting abilities over the years, making myself a decent artist and enabling me to sell some pieces for extra cash when they’re completed. I bend over backward to make nice with all the villagers to ensure a safe and pleasant environment for Leisel to grow up in.

I haven’t earned, nor do I want respect or loyalty from any mythics—certainly not from shifters and especially not The Rockwell Pack. Being the soulmate to Camden Kent is the epitome of a joke from the fates, not something I want to dwell on.

The shifter polluting my porch hands an envelope to me, wearing a smile. “The King Alpha and Prince Beta request the presence of their mates at dinner in two hours. It’d be an honor if you would dine with the pack.”

I don’t take it and instead let out a snort. “I’d rather starve, thanks for the offer.” My words aren’t even a lie—I’d rather go hungry than sit amongst the creatures that have ruined humanity with their presence on our planet. Besides, I’m more than capable of making dinner for Leisel and me.

His smile falters slightly. “I’m not sure you have a choice.”

A cold niggle of fear moves through my chest. “I’m not sure I give a shit. I won my duel. Leisel’s underage. Neither of us has an obligation to be near you.”

He clears his throat, shifting his weight. “From my understanding, if you don’t come willingly, you’ll be forced to attend.” Then, pasting on his bright smile again, “The warriors guarding your house will escort you. I look forward to seeing you there.” With that, he thrusts the envelope into my hands and walks off my porch—his stride the same confident and self-assured one I presume all mythics have.

I close the door and resist the urge to bang my head against it. The fact of the matter is that shifters can easily force Leisel and me to join them. I’d rather avoid stressing Leisel out even more than she recently has been. Although dinner with shifters will be an overload of anxiety for both of us, it would be better to go without chains.

If the mutts have any expectation of me acting pleasant, cordial, or even putting effort into my appearance, they’re in for a rude awakening. Even if I wanted to dress up for dinner—which I don’t because I have no intention of giving the impression I care what they think about me—I’d have nothing suitable to wear. I only have clothes designated for hunting, farming, mucking out the stables, going into the village, and sleeping.

Walking over to the dinner table with resignation, I tear open the envelope—uncaring that some smudges of paint end up on the expensive-looking paper—and read over the letter.

It’s the same thing the shifter just told me, the only difference being it’s printed in pretty formal script.

“Leisel,” I call out, knowing she’s in her room reading and playing with Chip. She appears in the doorway, looking me up and down with her eyebrows raised in question. I give her a grim smile. “Get dressed, sweet girl. We’re dining with mutts tonight.”

***

Leisel’s hand trembles in mine as I help her off Duchess. Two shifters who were sent to “escort” us—in other words, to ensure we attended—dismount their horses ten feet away.

We stand in front of the mansion where shifters rest when traveling through Aesara—a gothic-looking structure, four stories high, as imposing as it is beautiful. It’s comprised entirely of old stone and has an eerie way of holding one’s attention.

I assume that the shifters want to impress us—as evidenced by the deferential treatment we received from our escorts, the polite way they greeted us, and the small talk they attempted to make. Small talk that was met with one-word answers and then silence. I have no interest in speaking with the creatures that have forced humans to the bottom of the proverbial food chain.

Leisel and I are both dressed in the clothes we wear when going into town—worn-down pants and a shirt that’s a few washes away from falling apart for me, and a newer version of a similar getup for Leisel. Since she’s still growing, her clothes are newer and in a better state than mine—I buy her new outfits several times a year, whereas the last time I bought myself clothes was when I was eighteen and stopped growing.

One of our escorts, the same man who extended the command for us to join the pack for dinner, walks up to Leisel and me before gesturing towards the open wooden door of the mansion with a smile. “Please, follow me.”

I glance at Leisel who’s staring at the mansion with wary eyes. I can practically feel her urge to run home and have dinner just the two of us, as always, and it breaks my heart that I can’t accommodate that. This situation makes me feel like I’ve failed in my role as her protector.

Even Chip, curled up on her shoulder, looks slightly unnerved, his small nose sniffing the air for signs of danger.

I reluctantly follow the shifter inside with Leisel in tow, hating everything about our current predicament. Hating that I can’t refuse, even though I won my duel, and therefore have no legal ties to the Rockwell Pack.

The interior of the mansion is also made of stone, lit by dim lamps etched into the walls, with candles providing additional light to the entrance hall.

“You okay?” I murmur to Leisel, peering down at her.

Her big golden eyes turn to me, and she slowly shakes her head. I know the shifters in front of us and behind us can hear me, but they thankfully don’t interfere in the conversation.

“I’ll be right by your side,” I quietly vow. “We’ll leave as soon as we can, alright?”

Her voice trembles when she responds, “Okay. I trust you.”

Our quiet exchange is abruptly cut off as we come to a stop in front of a floor-to-ceiling set of double doors, both of which are open to reveal a formal dining room.

A long gray polished-stone table takes up the majority of the space, with at least thirty shifters seated at it, talking animatedly with each other. I assume that more pack members arrived today since there weren’t nearly as many shifters present at the duel. As soon as my eyes find the elaborate spread of food on the table, rows of overflowing dishes and bowls covering the entire length, my stomach begins to churn with nausea.

As beautiful as the setup is, it’s built on the pain, death, and humiliation of countless human lives. This entire mansion screams of blood money and it makes me sick. The dinner spread alone could feed my entire village for a week—instead, it’s being wasted on the invaders who took our planet from us.

The entire table falls silent, and I suddenly find myself the center of attention under thirty scrutinizing stares. Although a few shifters flick Leisel glances of interest, their primary focus seems to be me. I can’t help the self-consciousness that ignites inside of me, making my cheeks and neck heat. Unfortunately, being a redhead, blushes are impossible to hide.

I lift my chin and run a gaze that I know is brimming with disdain over every person seated at the table before my eyes land on Camden who’s seated at the head. Wyatt is seated to the left of him, and the seat beside Wyatt is vacant, as is the one to the right of Camden.

The Alpha offers me a charming smile that drips with charisma, displaying pearly-white teeth.

He motions to the seat beside him. “Sierra, Leisel,” he purrs, “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation—”

“We weren’t given a choice,” I interject.

He’s not put off, and his smile doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Join us.”

The only way out is through. My father would always tell me that when I was a child. He’d reiterate again and again that whatever obstacle I was facing was the solution—that avoiding difficulties was pointless, whereas overcoming them head-on was the true objective.

Outside of the loss of my parents, this is one of the most difficult obstacles I’ve ever faced, a dinner with a room full of shifters.

Knowing that my options are limited, I slowly walk to where Camden is sitting.

Once I’m next to the vacant seat to his right, I ask Leisel, “Would you prefer to sit with me or by the Beta?”

I don’t use beta as an honorific title—I use it to avoid personifying Wyatt, which he catches onto.

With a bristle, he says, “My name is Wyatt.”

I don’t look away from my sister when I respond. “Which is irrelevant to me, but thank you for the information.”

To my surprise, a few laughs sound in the room, and I see Camden’s lips tilt up at the corners. Wyatt, however, glowers at me, clearly not finding my comment amusing. He’ll soon come to understand that I could not give less of a shit what shifters think or don’t think about me.

Leisel, with mirth dancing in her eyes, says, “With you.”

I nod, sink into the seat, and then perch her on my lap. I sift my fingers through her hair, ignoring the shifters surrounding us.

After a moment of tense silence, Camden tells the pack members, “You may begin.”

With that, everyone begins loading food onto their plates and filling silver goblets with assorted drinks. Chatter starts up again, and Camden takes the liberty of sliding an extra plate for Leisel beside mine and loading both dishes with exotic-looking foods; spiced grilled meats and fishes, roasted vegetables, and colorful side dishes I’ve never seen before.

I don’t have any intention of partaking in the offered meal. Even accepting food from Camden could send a signal of acceptance, and that’s the last thing I want. I intend to whip up a proper family meal once Leisel and I are back home, not indulge the Rockwell Pack.

Camden blatantly stares at me, even as he begins to eat. The rest of his pack members are slightly more subtle now—merely sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes rather than facing me head-on the way their Alpha currently is.

I stiffen when he leans towards me over the arm of his chair, and turn to pin him with a stony stare.

He gives me a long, slow perusal with his eyes, making me feel naked and exposed despite being fully clothed. His eyes blaze with lust as he takes in every inch of my body, his gaze turning smoldering. Just like that, warmth ignites in my belly, causing my cheeks to heat even further.

The mate bond is clearly doing its work. I know from my reading that the more time I spend around Camden, the firmer grip the metaphysical bond between us will get on me, and the more I’ll be attracted to him. The thought of something invisible controlling me makes me clench my teeth so hard that my jaw starts to ache.

With a mere look, he’s inspiring more lust in me than I’ve ever felt—aside from when he kissed me last night. To be fair, I can’t exactly pretend to have ever felt lust before, so the mere sensation of being sexually attracted to another being is jarring. There have been a few boys in the village that have caught my eye over the years, granted, but I was too busy raising a child to do anything other than flash a smile.

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Camden questions, sounding amused at the prospect.

I sniff. “I’m not a fan of rhetorical questions.”

He rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw, and I suspect he’s hiding a smile. “Okay,” he drawls. “What are you a fan of?”

His already deep voice drops an octave, gaining a smoky edge that sends heat whipping through me. I know he’s doing this on purpose—trying to exploit the innate physical attraction between us.

So, I say the one thing that I know will stop this conversation from becoming inappropriate—because he’s projecting an untamed need that makes me beyond uncomfortable, mainly because of how deeply it’s affecting me. “Humans. Human men, specifically.”

His gaze turns from smoldering to deeply irritated in a flash. His hands clench and his eyes burn a brighter silver-blue. Somehow, I can tell that his wolf is slinking closer to the surface.

The reading I’ve done on shifters has taught me that they have a dualism to their souls—that their inner animals are separate yet attached entities. If I’m not mistaken, a shifter and their inner animal are often on par with each other, but they both have their own personalities. The animals have a primal way of thinking—I’m willing to bet that Camden’s wolf simply doesn’t understand why I’m being resistant, which angers the animal within. I doubt the wolf is able to grasp the nuances of the situation—in his eyes, I belong to him, and he wants to claim that belonging. I’m sure Camden thinks similarly, though hes capable of assessing the intricacies of our circumstances. It almost makes me want to smile that neither the man nor his wolf are getting what they want, something that’s likely a new experience for both of them.

“A word of advice, Sierra,” Camden rumbles. “Tread very, very carefully when talking about other men.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why? You have no right to control me—I won my duel. I don’t owe you or your fellow shifters anything. I don’t belong to you.”

I realize that the table has once again fallen silent, everyone watching my exchange with their Alpha, riveted.

A growl sounds low in Camden’s throat. “Incorrect. You’re the other half of my soul—you belong to me in every goddamn way, whether you like it or not.”

My temper—something I normally have solid control over—snaps.

“If you think a royal meal will change my hatred of you, think again.” I motion to the table in disgust. “Ask yourself this: why wouldn’t I prefer humans over you? mythics—shifters specifically—forced humans to go back to a miserable way of living. You stole our resources. Destroyed our technology because it didn’t suit your needs or whims. You caused billions of deaths. You consistently steal the lives of your mates, giving them no option but to submit to your disgusting ways. Standing with you is akin to accepting the horrors you have put us through, and I will never accept that. Likewise, I will never accept you.”

Disbelief, anger, and fury flicker over Camden’s face. I enjoy every one of the emotions, because I want to see him suffer as he has made humans suffer, and I’m now in the prime position to incite that torment within him.

“We’ve been laden with the consequences of your rule for over a century. We’ve had to fight for survival on a planet that was ours to begin with. We’ve bled because you didn’t care enough to protect us. You’ve all but destroyed the human race, and yet you seek my allegiance?”

With a mask of determination on his features, Camden tells me in a quiet yet steely voice, “But you’re not human either, are you, Sierra?”

I really wish I hadn’t let the secret of my magic slip.

“My kind was on this planet long before yours,” I shoot back. “Those with earthly magic, along with humans, have rights to Earth. Whereas you have nothing but a long history of causing pain and death to those weaker than you.” I inhale and exhale deeply, willing myself to gain some calm. I whisper in Leisel’s ear, “Ready to go, sweet girl?”

She’s stiff on my lap, but when she looks at me, there isn’t a hint of fear in her eyes. No, there’s an anger that almost matches mine. My impassioned rant seems to have riled her up—which wasn’t my intention. Leisel is kind, sweet, and the very definition of wholesome. I have no right to corrupt that with my anger. She nods, the motion jerky with rage.

“If you stand up from my table right now, you’ll pay the price,” Camden says, every syllable dripping with danger.

Ignoring his threat, I help Leisel up and then stand. Locking eyes with my so-called mate, I declare, “You have no jurisdiction over either of us. Leisel is too young to be mated, and I won my duel. I have no interest in dining with you or spending a moment in your company. So, I’ll kindly ask you to stay out of my life.”

Before I can blink, Camden’s on his feet and has a hand wrapped around my arm. His stern unyielding expression—as well as his blurring speed—startles me, but I don’t let that show. Instead, I try to jerk out of his hold. Unfortunately, that achieves nothing because his strength undoubtedly exceeds mine.

He addresses the pack though his eyes never leave me. “Please, continue with your meal. I need to have a word with our future queen.” Then ever so briefly glancing at Wyatt, “Watch your mate in my absence.”

Those words feel like a bucket of cold water thrown on my anger, replacing it with a soul-deep fear. I instinctively reach out for Leisel’s hand, but Camden’s already dragging me away, his stride none too gentle.

“Stop!” I demand. “You can’t take me away from her!” I do my absolute best to escape his grip, but my efforts are perfectly futile. Within seconds, he has me out of the dining room and continues forcibly pulling me away from the one person in my life I truly care about.

“Fucking stop!You can’t do this!” I practically shriek, feeling tears start to well in my eyes at the thought of little Leisel left in a room of wolves.

I can’t stop Wyatt from doing anything, since I’m not there to protect her.

When I stumble and almost fall flat on the ground, Camden sweeps me up into his arms, holding me tight against the muscled expanse of his body. The close contact incites a new, stronger lust within me, but my fear for Leisel overshadows it, and I try to wriggle out of his hold.

“Don’t fight me,” he bites out. “Not fucking now. You have no goddamn idea how close I am to sinking my teeth into your neck and permanently marking you as mine.”