Chapter Twenty-One

Half an hour later, I’m knocking firmly on the door to Sierra’s suite. I hear footsteps approaching before the door opens to reveal my fiery mate. She’s holding an ancient-looking book in her hand with a cracked tattered leather binding, and her expression is one part focus, one part anger, and one part exhaustion.

Before I can speak, she sets the book on a side table in her room, and says, “I just got done warding Leisel’s and my rooms against intruders, so it’s time for us to chat.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that Sierra’s already taken action, but it does. It’s been less than an hour since she killed the vampire, but she didn’t take any time to calm herself down—the color is high in her cheeks, her eyes are sparkling with malice, and she looks ready to incinerate the next person who even mildly irritates her.

Unfortunately, that person will be me. Despite my reservations about angering an exceptionally powerful witch, I can feel that my mate’s soul is heavy and burdened—I sensed that the moment I met her. One of the reasons we’re a perfect match. We’re both damaged, we both have our own set of demons. Maybe if I can draw hers to the surface, I’ll find that they match mine in their own twisted way.

“Thank you,” I say.

She blinks, as if surprised at my words. That makes me pause to think.

I’ve yet to show Sierra—verbally or otherwise—just how much she means to me. I’ve given her little reason to see that she is the most important figure in my life. That’s something I’ll have to change.

It’s been a long time since pretty words were thrown around my family. Almost twenty years. When my mother was alive, she never let any of the Kents forget that she loved us—through word and deed. When she died, that changed. My father turned somber, solemn, stoic, and eventually cruel, which rubbed off on both of his sons. Me more so than Wyatt.

My father.He no longer lives in the castle—he has his own property not far away—but I’ll need to send word of what happened here soon. His health has been declining quickly as of late and I haven’t wanted to bother him, but he deserves to know when something happens of the magnitude of what occurred during dinner tonight.

Suspiciously, Sierra says, “You’re welcome. Leisel just fell asleep, so we can’t talk here—I won’t risk waking her after the night she’s had.”

My heart warms. Sierra will be a wonderful mother—she already is. She treats her younger sister like one would a daughter, which stands to reason considering she raised Leisel.

Though I don’t see us having children anytime soon, it will happen eventually, and when it does, I know I’ll never need to worry about their safety—Sierra will protect them as fiercely as she does Leisel. Even so, I’ll be just as protective, and I can already see just how much I’ll adore any of our offspring. Whether they be earthly witchlings or shifter wolf pups.

“Let’s go to the sitting parlor on the second floor,” I offer. “It has a fully stocked bar, and you look like you could use a drink.”

She looks at me warily for a beat, before letting out a soft puff of laughter, her shoulders slouching. “It’s that obvious?”

She sounds incredibly…tired. Exhausted not just in body but in mind. Everything within me demands that I take her into my arms and soothe her, but I resist the urge, clenching my fists to keep myself from reaching for her. “Follow me.”

“One moment,” she mutters.

She pulls a knife out of her pocket—the same one I recall her sharpening when we were camping for the night while en route to the Kinrith—and flicks open the blade before I can blink.

Is she going to try to stab me?The last time she hurt me with lethal intent, I delivered a punishment that I have no wish to repeat. I tense, preparing to defend myself and disarm her, but find doing so unnecessary when she pricks her thumb with the blade.

I know enough about magic to understand that magical blood bolsters spells exponentially, especially if it’s powerful—and Sierra’s blood is very powerful. Claude echoed my suspicion earlier. Nevertheless, seeing her blood drawn makes my wolf slink closer to the surface. He despises the scent of it and the fact that she’s injured—no matter how small that injury might be or the fact that it’s self-inflicted in service of magical protection.

She walks up to Leisel’s door and uses her bloodied finger to draw a small symbol at the base of it, repeating the same gesture on hers. Then she pockets her blade and straightens.

I grit my teeth against the questions wanting to spill forth, knowing that she won’t be keen to give me answers. Also knowing that my real objective—no matter how much I may not like it—is to piss her off enough to make her control slip. Something that may well be detrimental.

We walk through the halls and down sets of stairs in silence. As soon as I lead her into the sitting parlor—one of many in the castle, but my personal favorite—she pauses for a moment to examine it. Her eyes run over the polished wooden walls adorned with paintings of past royal families. She takes in a bookshelf in the corner of the room before her gaze rises to the orbs of brightness hovering by the ceiling and casting light about the room. It lowers to examine the ornate marble-carved fireplace with a settee before it and finally flicks over to the carved stone bar in the far corner of the room. I watch as her eyes take on a glimmer of curiosity with each new item she examines and follow the path of her gaze with my own, feeling like I’m seeing everything through new eyes.

Sierra’s inquisitiveness and interest in things that are menial and commonplace to me serves to incite my own curiosity, giving me the chance to look upon my surroundings with a new perspective.

Once she’s done thoroughly cataloguing the room, she rounds on me. “How did the vampire get in tonight? Why weren’t there preternatural security measures in place to prevent something like this?”

I close the door behind me and calmly walk over to the bar in the corner. Selecting a bottle of wine and another of aged whiskey, I tell her, “There were. Kyron had an accomplice—a vampire hybrid with magic. The accomplice took down the barrier surrounding the castle, which kept out intruders and allowed Kyron to teleport inside.”

She doesn’t pause before questioning, “Was Kyron a hybrid too? Is that how he could teleport?”

I shake my head, grabbing a corkscrew from the counter and getting to work opening the bottle of wine. “No. Members of certain species, even those who don’t inherently have magic, occasionally develop a single magical power—a twist of fate, so to speak. Kyron was one of those individuals. He was also the youngest member of the vampire’s royal and ruling family, so his death will not go unnoticed or unavenged.”

Sierra pauses as she takes in the new information, turning her gaze to the fireplace with a contemplative expression. That contemplation quickly gives way to a solemnness edged with disgust as she looks back at me. “Leisel told me about the witch doctor who examined me when I passed out. Is he the one who put up the barrier?”

Walking over to the sofa in front of the grand fireplace, I set both our drinks on the table in front of it before motioning for her to join me. As expected, she doesn’t, so I remain standing. “Yes,” I respond.

“So, his magic is weak to have been overpowered by another,” she concludes.

“Not weak,” I correct, “but not as powerful as yours.”

Sierra lets out a bitter laugh. “And I suppose you expect me to put up a new barrier that’ll hold against powerful intruders?” She adds with a mutter, “Using me for all my worth, typical of your kind.”

Seeing my chance, I demand, “Why is it you seem to despise all mythics?”

She looks at me like I’m slow, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I want to know why you look like you’d happily kill me every time we’re in the same room together. I want to know why you fight against us being mates so vehemently.”

Sierra blinks slowly, her cheeks starting to heat. “You ask as if I haven’t already told you. Do you not remember or do you just not care? Please tell me you’re not so stupid that you can’t figure out why I have a distinct distaste for all mythics, especially shifters. Tell me you’re not that blind to what your kind has done to this world.”

“We cleansed it of pollution and the many plagues humans brought to it,” I point out, which is an entirely true statement. In the two centuries since shifters have overtaken the Earth, it’s gone from a planet on the brink of collapse to a beautiful world, lush with greenery, nature, and the magic that stems from nature.

Her fists clench. “You fucking ruined it!”

I’m almost certain Sierra wants to take that knife out of her pocket and chop me into pieces, but I press on. If getting her mad is the only way to get her to talk, I’ll do it. I’ve already proven I’m not above playing dirty to get what I want. “Go on,” I encourage, my tone intentionally condescending—even though condescension is the last thing I feel right now—as I stalk closer to her.

In reality, I understand her frustration and anger. I want to help her work towards her goals, whatever they might be. I wish for us to be on the same team, but I can’t do that if she blocks me out at every turn.

“I’m not having this conversation,” she snaps. “Get out of my face—I’m sure you have plenty of Alpha duties to be going about. I’ll help ward the castle tomorrow—”

“No,” I interject. “You were on quite the roll as to why you hate shifters—don’t let me stop you.” Her eyes start to shine, and it feels like someone’s twisting a blade in my chest, but I persevere. “Tell the truth, Sierra. Exactly why do I get the sense you want to see all of us dead?”

My taunt works. Her face and neck flush a deep red with anger, and she loses the tight control she always keeps on herself. “Because I wouldn’t have had to become an adult at fourteen if it wasn’t for you stuck-up piles of goat-shit invading!” she shouts. “Because I would’ve still had a family! You might know a thing or two about responsibilities, but you know nothing of having to work around the clock just to stay afloat.” For a change of beat, she steps into my personal space, hands twitching like she wants to wrap them around my throat. “You don’t know what it’s like to get up at the crack of dawn every morning to run a damn farm. You don’t know exactly what goes into it—at least ten fucking hours of hard labor every single day. You don’t know what it’s like mucking out horse stalls, plowing, planting, harvesting the land, hunting for meat, and raising a baby on top of it.

“I was fourteen when my mother died—bleeding out from birthing little Leisel because there were no damn doctors to help her. I didn’t have any time to grieve her death—instead, I became the mother. I became the provider. I became the man of the house when my biggest worry should’ve been studies and boys!” She pauses, flushed and breathing hard. Then, she walks away from me, prowling to the other side of the room. “Scratch that, I grew up when my father died because I couldn’t bear to have my pregnant mother miscarrying due to overworking herself.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and she swipes at it angrily. “The day I first held Leisel in my arms, the day I lost my mother, I was fourteen. I’d just gotten my period.” Her voice is wobbly now—heart-wrenchingly vulnerable. For a moment, she looks the same way I suspect she did the day she lost her mother—like a lost afraid girl. Her eyes are wide, her lips are trembling, and her chin is wobbling. It’s only through sheer power of will that I force myself to stay in place instead of going to her to try to comfort her. Protecting her from everything—even her own inner difficulties and turmoil, which I know she won’t let me do any time soon.

In a small voice, she continues, looking at the floor. “I wanted to die, that day. In the few minutes between my mother breathing her last breath and a nurse handing me Leisel, I saw no reason for living.” I’m quite sure that, at this point, our bond is the only thing keeping her talking; subconsciously pushing her to open up because it knows I’ll do my very best to be there for her. I can only hope she’ll let me. “In that moment, I forgot about everything—the farm, my new-born sister, and my parents’ wish for me to have a fruitful life. I wanted to go to the river in the forest behind my home and allow myself to drown.” A sad smile touches her lips, and I know she’s currently lost to the memories of that day. “Like Ophelia in Hamlet, who succumbed to her difficulties. That idea was fascinatingly symbolic and so incredibly enticing.”

Her eyes harden with determination, her posture straightens, and I get the sense that she’s moved on from that dark memory. It relieves me on a fundamental level because I’m a hairbreadth away from disregarding common sense, crossing the distance between us, and kissing her pain away.

“I think the nurse washing and bundling Leisel in blankets could see that I was on the precipice of giving up entirely. One second I was staring at my mother’s corpse, and the next second the nurse handed me my sister, asking what her name was for the birth certificate. I looked at Leisel—her infant self as tiny and vulnerable as I felt—and saw a reason to live. She’d been crying, but as soon as her golden eyes met mine, she quieted. Then, after less than a heartbeat of studying me, she smiled. I saw my future in that smile. I saw her growing up under my care, on the farm. I saw thousands of her smiles at different stages in our lives. I saw myself wiping her tears and holding her when she was upset. I saw myself annihilating anyone or anything that dared upset her. And I knew then I’d do anything—anything—to keep her safe and happy. So, I survived for her. After a few months, I began living again. The most precious gift I’ve ever received was her existence because it point-blank saved me. And tonight, the last living member of my family was put in jeopardy because of your kind!” She wraps her arms around her waist, shrinking into herself. “I couldn’t survive if she was gone. I wouldn’t want to. And it’s because of your presence in my life that a vampire held up a black fucking claw to her neck. So excuse me for detesting the very sight of you, Camden, but surely you’ll understand why there’s a surplus of bad blood between your kind and mine.

“Any duties I carry out or help I lend will always be in the interest of humans and my little sister, not in you. I will never accept you. I will never care for you. The only reason I’ll tolerate you is for the sake of others.”

I let out a deep breath, stunned into silence. I knew Sierra had by no means led an easy life, but I didn’t know the depth of her turmoil before. Now, I’m at a complete loss for how to approach her or how to overcome the barriers between us, especially since she doesn’t want them overcome. In fact, she’ll be actively working against my efforts.

Sierra walks to the table with our drinks, gulps down her wine, and then looks me right in the eyes. Calmly, she says, “The next time you provoke me, I will begin burning things down. This beautiful castle of yours will only take a few licks of my flame to disappear. Tread very carefully, Alpha. Fate might have played a cosmic trick by pairing us, but I only adhere to the wishes of myself and my sister.”

With that, she sets down her glass. “I’ll speak with your witch doctor in the morning and set about making a sturdy barrier tomorrow. If you could stay the fuck out of my way while I work to protect Leisel, it’d be much appreciated. I warn you now that my mood is foul, and whenever that happens, things tend to burn.”

I narrow my eyes. At this point, there’s only one play I can make; one guaranteed sensation I can spark within Sierra. Arousal.

Before she can walk away, I snake my arm around her waist, pull her against me, and slant my lips over hers.