Chapter 40 Loosening the Leash

Chapter 40 Loosening the Leash
Varek

I rub my jaw, considering it. "They're cousins?"

"Probably. I don't think there are any other lords down that way… why?"

My hands clench. This had to be what Cara hadn't wanted her husband to tell me in the hallway. She had been in Caldara when I had been in the battle where I'd met Dante. It must have been a good day when she arrived at her husband's castle and met him. 

The memory cut through my mind. His eyes had been devoid of hesitation or feeling when he attacked me. Back then, his shifted form was only slightly smaller than I am now. I learned much later that he was much younger than me and nearly untried. He had been relentless, and it wasn't until a white flag had been flown in the distance that he stopped.

We had been on opposite sides as support then, and I knew just from the few blows we'd traded that there was a chance I would have lost my life. The thought of him here, in my halls, at my table, sets me on edge, especially with his connection to Cara, who had nothing but resentment in her heart for me.

Would she plot against me? I can't put it past her. If Dante is just a cousin, he has to be a lord of some sort, perhaps lord over the little port that Cara's husband had once ruled. 

"Why would he come?" I ask. "He can't have the resources to compete with the likes of Hyath, no matter what he rules over now."

Ronan shrugs. "Maybe one of the courtesans? Or one of the daughters that came."

I nod. That seems reasonable, but not quite true. "See if you can figure anything out. Maybe the sisters have similar tastes." I smirk. "You're more to her liking than her husband, I'm sure."

He smirks. "You're the worst, but I'm not opposed. Cara was always sweeter."

Ronan leaves me to the silence of my office, and I sit, turning over everyone who had come, the stores of food that might just stretch, and the tentative plans I have to auction Fiona off. My mind keeps drifting from all of that to the gnawing unease in my chest. 

Fiona's ability to resist my compulsion, the suspicion that Liora is forming a bond with her, and now the arrival of Cara made it feel like the control I had been crafting for years is slipping through my fingers and crumbling bit by bit.

I grind my teeth, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. The fire pops, spitting sparks. How had this all become so precarious? She should have been easy to break, easy enough to sell off. If I was going to get through this, I needed to change tactics. I had to admit, at least to myself, that breaking and controlling her was going to be more complicated. I'd have to apply a harder hand to her since my usual methods and physical confinement had done nothing. Threats were nothing if I didn't follow through on one, and she would have to cross another line to warrant it. She is the type of person to punch at a wall in hopes of making footholds to climb it if it meant even a chance at freedom.

Now, she knows that I'm running low on options.  She's so damn irritating. I get to my feet. 

Where is she? I go to the door. 

"Where's the captive?" I ask the guard down the hall.

"In her quarters, I believe, Your Majesty."

I turn and head down the hallway. The sound of so many heartbeats in the castle, the influx of unfamiliar scents in the air irritates me, but I walk the corridors toward the room I placed Fiona in. It's not so far from the royal family's quarters, but it's not so close that her scent should ever reach my bedroom.

My wolf huffs in disappointment, and I try to ignore him. He's more than settled in the fact that I want her. Every moment of defiance and every loss that should infuriate us both only makes him hungrier for her, a scrap of anything from her. It's maddening, and if I dare to be honest with myself, it's been this way since I brought her to Caldara. The scent of her lingers in my mind, stirring heat in my gut. Then, I realize that it's not a memory. I've reached the corridor leading to her chambers. I take a deep breath and try to ignore the way my body heats, and I breathe deeper, just trying to take more of her scent in. 

I walk to the window, looking out the frosted glass and into the dark night on the mountain, lit only by the moonlight on miles of white snow. I could not go in there the way I have been. I cannot compel her, so I have to outmaneuver her. I needed patience, despite the ticking clock.

She has the advantage of a secret I didn't want her to have, but she's still trapped here. She will bargain with me to get out of here faster, even if that's just on my terms. 

I won't give her a choice. I'll have to bait her into a match that serves me. She's sensible enough to know that one way or another, she was fated to end up choosing a husband. At least, if she chooses the one I want, she should know she'll be safe, much safer than if her father had chosen her husband. 

No one will ever stand against Caldara. 

I needed to start bringing her around to my way of seeing things, bringing her to heel through persuasion. She has to sit at the table, willing to let suitors size her up and bid on her. She has to want to smile when I tell her to, wear what I tell her to, and keep her tongue silent until I say she can speak.

I have to make her want to give me that control. I think of the dream again and consider it. She had told me to just ask. I couldn't ask her to obey me, but maybe giving a little, just a little, is the key. It had worked with Liora all these years. It has to work with Fiona.

I just needed to figure out how to loosen her leash without losing control or letting her gnaw on it. I nod at the guard at the door and push it open. Fiona is there, sitting in a chair, and Tamsin sits on the edge of her bed. The serving girl from earlier comes out of the bathroom with wide eyes before shrinking back into the bathroom, bowing her head. 

The fire crackles in the hearth, and she looks at me through the mirror. 

“You’re early,” she says. "I expected you closer to the dinner hour since you seem not to know how much time things take." 

The amusement in her voice scrapes and scratches my calm. She turns, resting her head on her arm on the back of the chair. 

“Here to do my hair or choose which dress I’ll wear for your guests?"

The urge to discipline her, a firm hand on her backside or just my hand in her hair, cracks my composure for a moment. My hand tightens around the edge of the door frame until the wood groans. She waits, watching me. Her lips are still lifted in amusement, but her eyes are calculating, scanning me, sizing me up the way I size her up. 

I breathe deeply. "You smell too Caldaran." I look at the servant. "Go to Beta Ronan and get the box from Solara."

She bobs her head and darts past me out the door. Fiona’s gaze never leaves mine. They don't narrow, but she's stiffer than she had been a moment before. I glance over the dresses, noting the colors more than anything. 

"The grey one will do. Take the others back, Tamsin."

"As you wish," she says, glancing between the two of us.

She gathers all but the grey dress and leaves. I tell the guards to distance themselves from the door before closing it behind me. When the latch clicks, something in the room tilts. The air between me and Fiona compresses and burns, humming with tension. My wolf rumbles, watching her closely and soaking in her scent. I search for some flicker of desire in her eyes, but her eyes are placid. Her expression is neutral.

She's hiding her emotions disturbingly well. I can't even smell a hint of desire on her, though I probably reek of it. 

I move to stand by the hearth. “You think this is a game,” I say. “It's not." I let my gaze sweep over her. "I am not your father. Unlike him, whoever I sell you to, will never consider harming you. It's more than many women in your position can ask for. It's in your best interest to cooperate with me, Fiona." She tilts her head. "So, what is it going to take for you to cooperate?"

Then, she smiles, and I know I've got her where I want her.