Chapter Thirty-Eight

Iawake at around the same time the sun starts to rise, early in the morning, feeling more satisfied and complete than I ever have. On the tail of the horrific day I experienced yesterday—filled with the pain of losing my father, though his deterioration had made our relationship a lost cause for some time—came the greatest blessing of all; I finally got to have Sierra entirely. I can feel that the bond that connects us has strengthened significantly, though it’s not yet complete. Completion would require complete intimacy on both sides, not just physical or emotional, and I understand that will take quite a bit more work.

I’ve been watching her the last several hours as she sleeps, comfortably nestled in my arms, admiring her skin as the early morning sun bathes her in a golden glow, studying the steady rise and fall of her chest, and marveling at the new depth of the connection between us. She’s mine now, completely and irrevocably. More than knowing she’s mine, I also feel it; I feel a new strength of the connection between us, one that’s soul-deep. I feel slivers of her emotions passing through our bond—faint feelings of contentment and restfulness, ones I somehow know come from her, tickle my chest.

I knew that a blood moon had a lustful effect on witches—there’s a reason I insisted on her staying with me last night—but I didn’t know just the extent of that lust. I didn’t expect her to tear my clothes off or claw at me like a woman possessed, but I’ll admit her actions and reactions delighted me. Every one of them.

The sheer, raw force of her passion was unveiled for the first time, and the result was nothing short of enlightening and addictive. Previously, a mere few touches or feeling her come undone around my tongue and fingers felt close to a religious experience, but last night was nothing short of an epiphany. Being inside her, with her moans in my ear and demands for more, felt like coming home after years away at battle.

I didn’t intend to mark her, per se, but I’m glad I did—with a mark and consummation, our bond is now irreversible. Of course, reversing it before would have required the sort of black magic she has no access to, but the small possibility is now gone. She can’t run from me; the need to return to her mate will now be too strong, too consuming. The weight this knowledge lifts off my shoulders is profound, as I hadn’t realized just how much I continued to worry about her leaving me, even as she’s started to settle into her role in the castle.

Recalling the way she held and soothed me last night, I can’t stop my eyes from dropping to her flat stomach. With our bond marked and physically consummated, she’ll now be able to bear my children—add in the fact that blood moons are hyper-fertile times for witches, and I do believe there may be a new addition to the castle quite soon. I’ve seen her with Leisel, seen her maternal streak front and center, so there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll be the best mother to the children we have.

Sierra blinks her eyes open sleepily, appearing hazy and discombobulated for a moment. She looks up into my face, and upon realizing she’s half-on top of me with my arms around her, she stiffens slightly before shooting up into a sitting position. She looks around the bedroom and I hear her heartbeat speed up when she reaches a hand up to touch the red skin where I marked her, and then turns eyes laced with confusion and fear on me. Then, realizing she’s still naked and my eyes are drawn down to her breasts, she yanks a blanket up to cover herself.

I feel faint echoes of her fear and panic radiating through the bond, and both prickle at my instinct to soothe and calm her. Since I know that touching her right now might only stress her more, I manage to keep myself in place and try to keep my expression calm.

“You…” She trails off, staring at me, more and more fear creeping into her body language and expression. Her hand continues rubbing at her mark, with increasing harshness, until her nails start digging into her skin.

I lean forward to lightly clasp her wrist and lower it from her neck. “Don’t scratch at it, it’ll probably be tender for a while.”

“Camden…what the fuck?” she says, jerking her wrist away from me. “How could you…how could you do that without asking me? I wasn’t—still am not—ready for that!”

As she speaks, she gathers the blanket before standing from the bed and looking around with growing alarm. Right now, she appears like a cornered animal—or witch—and I know I have to approach with caution or risk her incinerating my bedroom.

“I got carried away. Full moons have that effect on wolves,” I tell her with some truth. Sure, I was swept up in the moment, but marking her was, at least in the back of my mind, a goal of last night. We were both swept away by lust, it was an ideal time, and now I have the defense of being in the thrall of the moon to shield myself from her anger.

I don’t think Sierra’s yet caught on that there is literally no length to which I won’t go to keep her. Nothing I won’t do, no line I won’t cross—she is essential to me, and if some light manipulation combined with the moon’s thrall is what it takes to further bind us, that’s what I’ll do. I’m surprised I hadn’t gone to more drastic measures sooner.

Sierra deflates a little. “But…this means permanence.”

This point I can argue. “There was always permanence here, Sierra, from minute one. Marking you was a matter of when, not if, as you damn well know. What’s the issue with it happening sooner rather than later? Besides, you left plenty of your own marks on me.”

Another point to my defense; she clawed and bit and scratched me like a wild little thing, so in a sense, it’s only fair I bit her back.

She winces at my comment, her eyes running over the scratches on my chest and arms, along with the bite marks on my neck. Marks given from one mate to another are typically called brands among shifters, and brands do not heal with usual shifter speed, for which I’m grateful—I’ll be feeling her claws and bites for at least the next few days, every time I move.

“I didn’t have any control over myself,” she says, frowning a little.

“Neither did I. What happened is set in stone, but it changes nothing.” It changes everything. “You’re mine with or without the claiming mark; now others will know you’re mine from miles away, which will serve as a nice deterrent and garner you even more respect.”

That seems to piss her off more than anything I’ve said so far. Her back snaps ramrod straight. “I want respect on my merits, not on a plan of fate. I don’t want to be revered because I’m your mate. I want to earn my place. This doesn’t exactly help with that.”

“You are earning your place,” I tell her, happy to switch topics and steer away from more dangerous territory. “The proposal you brought to me was masterfully constructed. Wyatt had the entire high court in complete agreement it was the right course of action in the span of a single evening, and the credit for it went to you. Speaking of, I have news from the liaison we sent to the witches.”

That perks her up a little. “Being?”

“We sent a wolf to the coven in charge of witch territories on this side of the globe, The Nightshade Coven, yesterday morning. I got news later in the day that the witches agreed to a tentative negotiation, as long as it includes a welfare check on you and Leisel.”

Sierra blinks. “Welfare check?”

I nod. “You were right in your assumption that witches protect their own; they’ve had to in order to survive. As the strongest magical species, they’ve faced more persecution than even humans.”

Sierra looks to the window, her gaze far away. “People fear what they cannot understand.”

“Precisely. They’ve also had growing concerns about the buildup of vampire clans and their recent attempts of invasions to nearby territories, so your proposal came at a most opportune time. They’ll be here next week for discussions.” As further enticement, I add, “I truly think we have a shot at an alliance and treaty. Considering you were the one to pull it all together, I figured that you, with the assistance of Wyatt, should be in charge of arrangements for negotiations. Write up an official treaty, perfect it, discuss negotiation tactics—everything that happens with them will be your triumph.”

At that, Sierra looks skeptical. “You’d let me take the credit?”

“I want you to take the credit,” I say sincerely. “You deserve it, and shifters deserve to know they have a capable queen looking out for their interests. I don’t need to beat you down so that I can shine; I want you to shine alongside me, if not brighter than me. I’d be happy to bask in your glow.”

I can tell that works. It softens her. She reaches up a hand, again, to rub it over her mark, but this time it’s a softer touch, almost a caress. Then she points a finger at me. “If you think this gets you off the hook, you’re wrong. I’ll still roast your ass over an open flame for your gall, even if you got carried away.”

I smile at that indulgently. “I’ll take your word on it. For now, I believe we both have a great deal of work to do.”

She looks down at herself, and her eyebrows furrow. I feel echoes of her panic return through our bond as she stares at her stomach. “You came inside me last night. Am I at risk for pregnancy?”

I bite my lip, considering my response. If I tell her that there’s a damn near guarantee she’s gotten pregnant, it’ll probably send her running. So, I tell her truthfully, “Not at risk, no.” No risk, only near-certainty that you’re already pregnant. She’ll find that out for herself soon enough.

* * *

An hour or two after Sierra leaves, Wyatt strolls into my chambers. I’m in the main area, seated on the couch before the fireplace—a spot that’s fast becoming my favorite, second only to my bed. It’s here that I’ve shared some of my best moments with Sierra, so I’m drawn back to it repeatedly.

I glance up at Wyatt’s appearance and use a hand to motion to the dining table where there’s the usual breakfast spread laid out. He doesn’t appear to have shared my grief over our fathers death—if anything, I can imagine he probably spent the day yesterday celebrating. When my father still lived in the castle, they butted heads constantly and never quite learned to tolerate each other.

“Care to explain why I saw a mark on Sierra’s neck?” he asks me as he seats himself beside me.

“I took advantage of the blood moon last night. We consummated. I marked her. Odds are, she’ll have conceived. Anything else you’d like to question me on?”

“I’m assuming you told her the repercussions of a mark and sex during a blood moon?” Wyatt asks.

I shake my head. “And have her refuse me? No. I didn’t even tell her of my intent to mark her. I saw an opportunity to bind her to me and took it.”

Wyatt’s face drains of all color as he takes in the information, which is not the most appropriate reaction from someone who should be my greatest supporter. I’d expect him, of all people, to be ecstatic that I’ve fully consummated my bond and at a time when Sierra’s most fertile too. He shouldn’t suddenly appear as pale as marble.

Wyatt’s wide eyes meet mine, and he breathes, “Camden, what have you done? You didn’t tell her that she could get pregnant once she’s marked and mated?”

“No, I didn’t tell her and risk rejection.” Though I doubt she would have rejected me in the state she was in last night, regardless of what I’d said. “We lost a royal, now the odds are that we’ll gain one,” I snap with irritation. “An heir who will guarantee more power and stability to the crown, not to mention assure Sierra never even contemplates leaving.”

I could’ve told Sierra when she asked this morning, but I didn’t want to ruin her mood just yet. She’ll figure it out soon and I can deal with repercussions when she does.

Wyatt shakes his head slowly, reaching one hand up to stab his fingers through his hair, looking as distraught as I’ve ever seen him. “This is why grieving shifters shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions.”

“I’m hardly grieving,” I retort, “We both knew it was only a matter of time before Father died; he’s been too weak to leave his home for the better part of a year. I was distraught last night, the news came as a shock to my system, but I grieved a man who’s been dead for some time—who died when Mother did. Being with Sierra helped wipe much of my sorrow away.”

Growing more irate, Wyatt snaps, “You let your emotions take the wheel, and now, you’ve very possibly permanently fucked yourself over with your mate!”

That statement does not sit well with me at all. The idea that I’ve done something wrong when every morsel of my being is screaming that I’ve taken the exact right steps to secure a future, shakes me—especially coming from my brother, whose judgment I trust.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarl.

“The fact that this is something she’ll rightfully see as a blatant betrayal!” Wyatt snaps. “You marked and mated her during a blood moon, without informing her of the risks. What do you think will happen when she finds out she’s pregnant, hmm? You think she’ll just accept it?”

“I think that she has the strongest maternal instincts I’ve ever seen,” I growl.

“Fucking exactly!” Wyatt shouts. “How could you thinkshe’d bring a child into the world after being manipulated into it, especially while we’re about to enter an all-out war with the vampires? You want to know what I think she’ll do? Everything in her power to abort it! Then she’ll take her sister and get away from shifters because you tried to entrap her! Any trust built between you, gone. Any progress I’ve made with Leisel, gone. We just lost our father, which I imagine was a blow for you, and now you’ve set us on a path to lose our mates too! So, I repeat, what the fuck have you done?”

My blood runs cold as I process Wyatt’s words, forced to come to terms with the very grim truth of them. He’s right, not telling Sierra the full scope of the situation last night and lying this morning will most likely come around to bite me in the ass. I don’t think she’d ever try to end a life of a child, but then…I can’t say that with certainty. What I do know is she has a vengeful streak a mile wide and could respond to her situation on principle. If she finds out I tried to trap her permanently, she’ll try to escape. The smart thing to do would be to get rid of anything that could inhibit that escape, such as a life that binds us together.

Fuck.

My thoughts race at a million miles a second as I try to think through my next steps. My grief and sorrow got the best of me, causing me to act rashly. There’s no going back now; all I can do is plan contingencies for the future.

I lock gazes with Wyatt, and tell him, “Nobody breathes a word of this to Sierra. She will not find out she’s pregnant until the child is formed enough that she wouldn’t have the heart to get rid of it. Anyone in the castle who dares tell her the truth will be executed for treason.”

If possible, my brothers eyes bulge even more. His mouth falls agape, and he looks lost for words. Finally, he demands, “Are you fucking insane?”

“It’s the only way to ensure my heir is carried to term!” I yell.

Wyatt shakes his head. “No. No, I won’t be part of deceiving my Alpha female and our queen. She deserves the truth.”

“You tell her, and I’ll lock you in the dungeons to keep you away from Leisel for the next fucking year,” I tell my brother clearly. “Don’t test me, Wyatt. You know I will.”

Wyatt deflates and fear replaces the anger in his expression. His posture slumps, and he gives me a look of such pain and betrayal that it tugs on my chest. I’ve always been my brother’s protector; outside of play-fighting, sparring, and the occasional healthy duel between siblings, I’ve never threatened him. I don’t think either of us can believe it in this scenario, but I can’t be rational now. Not with what’s at stake.

Wyatt stands slowly from the couch, trembling with a mixture of rage and pain. He says, “Maybe Sierra was right about us, Camden. At least there’s no fucking doubt that you’re a monster.”

With that, he turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.