Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
It took me a moment to process what he’d said, the words replaying in my mind as I tried to make sense of them.
My belly whooshed. “What did you say?” I put out my hand, catching his sequined sleeve. “I’m his what?”
Cecil’s eyes rounded. “Oh yes, I heard.” He grinned. “I also heard that I wasn’t supposed to tell her that she was his true mate. What did you hear? Something different?”
“What’s a . . . a true mate?” I asked as tingles danced along my spine.
“What we are,” my wolf told me. “You feel it. That is a mate.”
I replayed her words: you feel it.
Feel it.
My mind replayed that night on the path, the very first time I touched him. I’d felt the pull of him. Thought he could never be real, not with how good everything felt. How perfect.
Even when we argued, fought, I couldn’t help but close the distance to him. I couldn’t help the desire to wrap my body around his and lose myself in the moment until its climax. I’d hated him in the beginning, hated him, and yet I’d still craved him in an unnatural way.
A primal way.
“What is a true mate?” I said more urgently, the butterflies in my belly turning ravenous. “I’ve never heard that term.”
“Something humans make up to explain a mate.”
My wolf had known Weston’s wolf was her mate right away. She’d felt the pull, like I had. They—we—seemed like two halves of a whole, fitting together seamlessly. Perfectly.
Weston’s growling declaration flashed through my memories.
You are mine.
“Can someone have more than one true mate?” I asked in a shaky voice, the enormity of this revelation seeping in.
“Just the one, Captive Lady,” Vemar said, watching me closely. “Finding one’s true mate is really quite rare.”
The room started to spin as my world was tipped on its axis yet again.
Why hadn’t Weston told me this from the beginning?
Then again, what would’ve been the point? I wouldn’t have understood what it meant. I might’ve even held it against him, been angry at the pull I felt no control over. I would’ve blamed him when it wasn’t his fault. I wouldn’t have understood that it was fate, especially since I’d been so sure I hadn’t had magic.
But why hadn’t he told me after I got my animal?
I thought I knew the answer to that, too, though. He hadn’t had the time. I’d climbed him like a tree the moment my wolf came roaring out, and then sulked about the four-way bond. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell me then, either.
I let out a shaky breath.
I wasn’t sure what to think. How to react. This sounded, well, special. Rare. I should feel privileged to have a true mate, not confused. Not kind of . . . let down.
Because a big part of me realized I hardly knew him. Certainly not well enough to consciously choose him. Part of me wanted to date for the first time. Wanted to meet new people and fall in love.
Being handed a mate—nature essentially assigning me one—felt like a cop-out, especially in our fucked-up situation. It felt disingenuous. I felt like I was being robbed of a choice, yet again.
I needed to think about this. I needed more details.
I needed all these revelations to just stop for a fucking second so I could catch my breath.
Vemar was still studying me. When my eyes met his, I knew he could tell how rattled I was. He nodded once in response.
“I just wanted to know if you were genuine, Captive Lady. I hope you understand. Given all we’ve learned in the last few years, nothing about you made any sense. I heard the head of the organization was cunning and cutthroat, with a way about her. That her people were good at lying, stealing, and cheating for her. You seem kind and genuine. Too naïve to be a renowned drugmaker. The feelings I get when I’m around you don’t make sense, either. I was in the demon dungeons. I know a mind-fuck when I feel it, and you, Captive Lady, are mind-fucking me.”
Cecil’s mouth clicked shut and mine dropped open. The people in this fucking kingdom! If they weren’t accusing me of one thing, they were accusing me of another. The Granny thing—fine. Eventually, I got the picture. Now it was mind-fucking? Was this guy serious?
“Get him,” my wolf growled. The accompanying surge of power was so potent that it blotted out all reason.
I ducked around him, registering his slow turn in response. From my bubble of adrenaline and anger, I registered he didn’t put up his hands to defend himself, an action I found odd. I scooped up a pair of old-looking scissors, noting the hint of rust meant they were probably dull, and figured that would be good enough. I dipped back the way I’d come, rolled, stood up at his back . . . and wondered what in the holy fuck I was actually doing. Was I going to stab a guy for saying words I didn’t like? Kill a guy who wasn’t attacking me or putting me in any harm?