Page 23

And yet there's no way that I'll be able to protect her from what's coming. How could I? I haven't protected any of the former heirs. Not nearly well enough from themselves, or from the Council, or from House Sanguine, or from any of the other houses that would do them harm—Caligo, Tenebrous, Erebus. And yet my mate, the person I've been searching for since I was old enough to want a mate, to need a mate, is going to be doomed to the same fate as all the rest of the House Midnight heirs.

I must manage to sleep somehow. It is fitful, because I wake as sun streams into the stained-glass window fashioned to look like a giant bear roaring up on two hind legs, coloring my room in blues and browns and bright sunshine yellows that are at complete odds with how I feel.

I lie in bed for a moment too long, trying to remember the relief I felt, the ecstasy when I caught her scent and put my jaws around her neck in the way that is reserved for mates, and how it could have turned to such terror had the idea of fully claiming her as mine... Once I was back here, once the enormity and the impossibility of the situation was weighing on me as if I bear the whole house's foundation on my two shoulders.

For a split second, hope warms me like one of the filtered sunbeams through the stained-glass window. Perhaps we will get through the rituals. Perhaps she can fully ascend to the Eternal Society. Perhaps she won't be disgusted by the idea of being mated to a lowly shifter who doesn't have standing within the Eternal Society at all, save for to guard her from those who would happily rid the world of her power.

It's fantasy, though. Once she understands her place in our world and mine, she'll want nothing to do with me—not like that, at least. She'll be friendly, of course. They always are, even when we disagree. They know that the MacTavishes serve, and with honor.

We always have and we always will.

I've never cared so much what one of the heirs thought of me as I do the beautiful Vivienne. Fuck, I don't think I've ever wanted anything so much in my long life as I do the woman who's now hopefully sleeping peacefully in the Head of House's room. I have no doubt the house led her there somehow last night. A part of me deep down inside feels guilty about the fact that I left her to her own devices on what should have been a joyful night of finding my mate, or at least a joyful night of finding the new heir to Midnight House and celebrating what could be the downfall of a corrupt society that's ruled too long. But instead, I stormed off like an idiot boy all because I couldn't handle the idea of biting her.

I groan, forcing myself out of bed. The wood floors are warm under my feet, and I get dressed quickly, avoiding my braid as I quickly run a comb through my unruly waves. It's not something I normally do, brushing my hair, pulling it back out of my face, and I hate that I want her to think that I'm handsome in spite of all my best intentions not to seal a mate bond with her. I never claimed I wasn't vain.

Though it takes me no time at all to walk the familiar halls to the Head of House suite on the first floor. The animal wardens of Midnight House—the daytime deer, a unicorn, hares, and all manner of birds—flit about underneath my feet as if overjoyed to see me again.

"Hello, old friends," I greet them.

I have no idea if they can listen to me or not. None of the former heirs knew either, or if they did, they certainly didn't make a noise about it to me.

"Just a bodyguard," I say.

Finally, I'm face-to-face with Vivienne's bedroom doors, and I can scent her even through the massive, heavy stone arch monstrosity that guards the Head of House suite. I make my hand into a fist and rap my knuckles against the stone three quick times.

I half expect her to come bursting out with a smile on her face or some quick, snappy retort, but she doesn't. And I don't hear any movement inside that she's awake.

I frown. She should be awake. I left early enough last night that if she'd followed me out, she would have gotten plenty of sleep.

"Vivienne!" I raise my voice and knock my knuckles against the door once more.

A snarl forms deep in my chest. The bear in me is distressed. I might not have sealed the bond, but he recognizes our mate even when I won't. I can feel his anger at me, too, for not claiming her immediately, as is the way of our people, though we are few now and he is likely the only one left to judge me.

"Vivienne, we need to wake up. It's time to start your training," I yell through the door again.

Still no sound. My heartbeat picks up. I don't scent her blood. Gods, what if she never left the library? Or what if she went exploring last night untethered, without me by her side to protect her? Surely the house itself wouldn't have sent her to the more dangerous parts... would it? Surely she didn't hurt herself in the library trying to scale one of those rickety old brass ladders?

Fear leaves a bitter tang on my tongue, and I finally push the brass door open, all etiquette and thoughts of being a bodyguard pushed from my mind. Because if she's hurt somewhere, I need to know, and I need to know fast.

The door gives way under my weight, unlocked, which makes me feel even uneasier. I can't think of any Head of House that ever left their door unlocked.

As I enter her room, relief slides through me as her scent grows thicker in my nostrils—clean oat milk and lavender from no doubt last night's bath, and underneath it, the perfect foresty musk that I'll never be able to scent without thinking of her again. She's here. She's safe.

"Fuck." The word rolls out of me on a guttural growl, because not only is Vivienne here and safe, she's naked in bed. One of the blue velvet quilts—some I've never seen, likely changed thanks to the house's knack for fitting rooms to the current Head of House's taste—is on the floor, a pillow next to it, and Vivienne is fast asleep, her little pink mouth open as she breathes, her breasts caressed by the sunlight streaming through her own window.

I tear my gaze away from the perfect curve of her waist, the lush fall of her hip and thigh, the delicious thatch of dark brown curls over her sex, to the stained-glass window that overlooks the Midnight House grounds, the reflecting pool. And the image that was there for the last Head of House is there no longer. The Midnight House has replaced it with another image, this one the same as mine in my room: a bear on his two hind legs, claws outstretched, roaring fiercely.

"Fuck me," I say under my breath, absolutely disgusted at the house's choice of decoration. As if it weren't bad enough, now the fucking house has decided to play matchmaker.

"Can't be done," I tell the house.

Then I turn on my feet and leave the beautiful naked body of my mate behind. I practically break into a jog, my cock's as hard as a rock, and there's only one way I'm going to be able to face her today and not want to bite her immediately.

I jog back to my room, lock the door behind me, and take myself in my hand—roughly, because I don't deserve a gentle caress. I don't deserve the feel of her plush lips around my cock. I don't deserve to sink into her wet, warm folds and knot her as a mate should. It's that thought—the thought of burying myself inside of her, of my knot expanding, growing, trapping us together—that has me coming in hot spurts in mere seconds.

Chest heaving, I look at the wreckage and realize that I am completely fucked.

Nine