Chapter 41

Rhi

I sleepwith Winnie again that night because I can't be dealing with the quarrel that's likely to ensue if I choose Stone over Renzo, or Renzo over Stone. Not that I do sleep. I'm switching between my body being wracked with worries – about Azlan, about Spencer, about all our other friends out there – and my body being flooded with … well … lust, my mind floating back to what happened in the bathroom and the kitchen today.

I can see there may be some advantages to five mates, even if keeping the peace between them is going to be an ongoing challenge.

Just after midnight, I hear a sound from the ground floor and sit upright in the bed. Pip's migrated from the end of the bed to a position between Winnie and me on the mattress. He's also dressed in a knitted cardigan and what looks like a baby's bonnet. Something Winnie discovered in one of the wardrobes and insisted he needed to wear.

Both he and Winnie are snoozing peacefully, Pip looking comfortable for once, and I decide not to disturb them, tugging a hoodie over my t-shirt and creeping to the door.

On the other side, I can hear Renzo snoring quietly and I pull back the door gently, finding him curled up like a dog on the other side. I step over him and pause at the banister. From below there's the sound of heavy boots, and maybe I'd be sounding the alarm if I didn't recognize those footsteps.

I pad down the staircase and find the man in black in the kitchen, standing by the window, staring blankly out of the dark window.

He turns when I enter and his face is drawn and tired.

"Are you okay?" I ask, striding quickly towards him and resting my hands on his forearms, peering at him for any signs of damage or injury.

"I'm fine, Rhi," he says, pulling me towards him and resting his chin on the crown of my head. He inhales, his chest expanding against my cheek, then blows it away with resignation.

"What's wrong?"

"It's worse than I thought."

"What is?" I gasp. "Spencer?" Tristan?

"Everything. My uncle's grip on the republic is absolute and brutal. And all of it is falling into place so fucking quickly." His words are bitter. "He must have been planning this for years."

"But it won't last, right? The chancellor and the council members, they'll fight–"

"The chancellor hasn't been seen since the night of the attack by the West. And half the members of the council are locked up or dead. The other half have fled. My uncle has always been powerful. And there's no one to stand up to him now. I don't see how his rule can end. Not unless the West attacks again and overthrows him – and even my uncle – cruel and corrupt as he is – is better than that outcome."

"Then all we can do is hope for the best. Maybe life under your uncle's rule will be little different from life under the authorities."

"Tell that to those locked up. To those grieving. He's already restricted liberties – the whole of Los Magicos is under curfew. I don't see it getting any better."

I'm quiet as I take in this information. For me, life under the chancellor and the council was never wonderful – scraping a living, dodging the lowlifes who were after us, evading the authorities. But for many people – people like Winnie and Trent – life wasn't so awful. Now … now Winnie doesn't even know if her grandma is dead or alive.

"How about Spencer? Did you find anything out?"

"To be honest, Rhi, I don't know how accurate my information is. A lot of my sources – allies of the chancellor – are under arrest or have gone to ground. But I did hear one rumor that both he and Tristan are under house arrest in my uncle's home." He sighs. "I'm not sure that sounds particularly likely."

"And Ellie?"

"Home with my father. Safe for now."

"Thank goodness," I mutter.

He squeezes me tight. "Come on, let's get to bed. It's been a long day." He threads his fingers through mine, and leads me up the stairs. At the top, I attempt to pull away and return to my bedroom.

"I'm sleeping with Winnie and Pip again tonight," I whisper.

"No, you're not," he says firmly, clearly bartering no argument. "Tonight, I need you in my bed, Rhianna."

And how could I possibly refuse that?

I let him lead me through to the bedroom on the other side of mine. It contains another four-poster bed, the canopy adorned with faded scarlet drapes and matching curtains covering the large bay windows, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Despite the dust, it may be the most grand bedroom I've ever entered.

Azlan comes to stand behind me, lifting my hoodie over my head, and then the shirt I'm wearing, so I'm left standing in just my panties. There's no fire in this room and the air is frigid, my nipples crinkling and stiffening against the cold. Or is it because of him? His mere presence arouses my body automatically and makes my bond hum with pleasure.

He sweeps my hair over my shoulder and rests his mouth upon the nape of my neck.

"I know no matter what I say, you're going to want to try and save him. No matter how dangerous or foolish I tell you it is. I know you won't be deterred. That's just who you are." I nod. "So let me have tonight, Rhianna. Just the two of us, because, I'm not ashamed to admit it, I'm frightened of what the dawn may bring."

I spin in his arms to face him. "I'm not frightened when I'm with you." I never have been. And isn't that strange, because he's one of the most terrifying men I've ever met? But ever since that moment in the forest when I killed that man and saved him, I've known our lives would be irreversibly linked, long before I understood about the bond and fate's intentions. I always knew he'd keep me safe.

"You're so beautiful, Rhianna," he says, brushing his knuckles down my face. "So irresistible." And if to prove his point, he walks me backwards towards the bed and pushes me down into the mattress. Then he reaches behind his head and yanks off his t-shirt, shedding his pants next, and then he's lying on top of me as I part my legs for him. And I'm not cold anymore. His body is warm pressed against mine and I love the feel of his skin. I comb my fingers through his dark hair, peering up into those midnight eyes.

"Thank you," I tell him, as he rests his forearms either side of my head, caging me with his body.

"What for?" he says, searching my eyes,

"For what you did today. I know it was a risk and I know you did it for me."

"I'd take a million risks for you, Rhianna." He kisses my mouth, then grinds his way inside me. "And whatever happens next," he says, "whatever fate may throw our way, you know I love you."

The way he makes love to me is more gentle than it ever has been before. Usually, he pounds me into the mattress, making me scream until my throat is raw. But tonight he's slower, taking his time with me, kissing my mouth, and my throat, my shoulder and my breasts, his hands all over me too, caressing my waist, stroking my thighs, touching my face.

I feel like I'm being worshiped, like he's committing every part of me to memory, and our magic spins in the air, curling around us in an embrace of its own.

I come, clinging on to him, whispering that I love him too, and he keeps grinding inside me, so that I'm lifted right up to the heavens themselves, as if I leave my body all together and am somewhere lost among the canopy of the bed, watching the two of us, entwined and moving together like we're one being and not two.

I come a second time and he follows right after, releasing a long drawn-out groan as he sinks into me.

"I liked it that way," I say, combing my fingers through his hair again and kissing his cheek.

It felt special and maybe he feels the same way, because he doesn't let me go and we fall asleep with him still buried inside me.

The monster is stilland unmoving. I try to rouse him, try to shake him awake. But he's cold. His heart silent.

Terror grips me – like before in the academy. I feel my mind unwind and I'm lost in the dark. Unable to reach him. Trapped and alone and frightened.

Why am I alone? Where are my mates? Where are the men destined to protect me?

I cry out but no sound leaves my throat and there's no magic. There's no magic.

"Wake up,"a firm hand shakes my shoulder. "Rhianna, wake up."

I open my eyes and stare up into the concerned face of Azlan.

It takes a moment – a moment for me to come back to myself – and then I fling my arms around Azlan's neck, clinging to him for salvation.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he says, rocking me in his arms, my body damp with sweat. "You're all right. It was just a dream."

"It was so real though, Azlan. So real. It felt like I was there, really there."

I gulp, tears racing down my face and into my mouth.

"What did you see?" he asks me gently, "what did you see?"

I screw shut my eyes and the image springs in front of me. I don't want to look. I don't want to be back there. "The monster was dead."

"The monster? What monster?" he says. "Was it the beast – Spencer – the one you're meant to save?"

"I don't know," I say, inhaling his scent, trying to focus in on the feel of his strong arms, on the here and now. "I couldn't see his face. I couldn't see who – or what it was. I just know it was dead." A sob wracks my body. "What if we're too late, Azlan? What if Spencer is already dead?"

"He's not, Rhi. It was just a dream. If he were dead, you'd know it, you'd feel it."

I shake my head. "We're not bonded."

"It doesn't matter. I still think you'd know."

"What if this is my way of knowing?" I cry.

He takes my head in his hands and wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. "We'll formulate a plan. First thing in the morning. No more delays. We're going to rescue him, Rhi. We're going to get him out of there."

I sniff and nod. I want to believe him, I want to believe that we can. That we're not too late, that there is a way. I don't want to believe in bad dreams and nightmares.

"Okay?" he says, examining my face.

I feel my racing heart rate settle, my ragged breathing return to normal.

"Okay," I say at last.

"Try to get some more sleep, sweetheart," he says, dragging me back down onto the mattress with him. "Everything will seem better, brighter in the morning, and we'll find a way."

I snuggle into his embrace, his heart beating right below my ear, his arms wrapped around me, his hands stroking along my spine.

A way. We'll find a way.

If there is one.