Chapter 57
"Lord Easterlin," Nickolas calls, his voice commanding attention as he swiftly moves to stand in front of me, effectively blocking me from Lord Easterlin's view.
"Your Majesty," Lord Easterlin responds, the color gradually returning to his face after having paled while staring at me. Shit! I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not good. Not good at all.
"What has brought you here?"
"I have urgent matters to discuss," Lord Easterlin says, tilting his head to the side, trying to get another glimpse of me.
"Wait for me in my office. I will meet you there in a few minutes."
"As you wish, Your Majesty." He bows and turns to leave, but not before sneaking one last peek at me over Nickolas's shoulder.
I bite my nails, my mind racing with the possibilities of what would happen now that he saw my eyes and noticed the change in my scent. Lycans already whisper about my uncanny resemblance to the late Queen. After what Lord Easterlin just witnessed, it would only take a second for him to put the pieces together, to realize what I truly am. This is bad! This is bad!
Panic claws at my throat. This is bad. Really, really bad. I was lucky Nickolas didn't try to use me to resurrect his father, but Lord Easterlin... he might not be so kind. What if he tries to drain me dry, to use my blood for his own gain? No, I can't let that happen. I need to hide, to run, to get as far away from here as possible.
I try to move my feet, but they're rooted to the spot, frozen with fear.
NICKOLAS
I steal a glance from the road, my eyes drawn to Amelia as she sits silently in the passenger seat of my sleek Bentley. Strands of her damp hair cling to her porcelain face, still wet from the rushed shower I had insisted she take. My own hair is barely dried, dark locks plastered against my forehead. I know she must be starving, her stomach hollow with hunger. But all of that has to wait. Her safety is the only thing that matters now.
She turns to look at me, baby blue eyes wide and searching as my fingers reach out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. Those eyes tug at my heart, begging me to explain why I pulled her from the castle and now speed her away to some unknown destination. Sighing, I pull my hand back, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. As much as it pains me to keep her in the dark, to see the confusion and hint of fear swirling in her gaze, I know it’s for the best. She can’t know where we’re going or why. Not yet.
The Bentley purrs to a stop in the driveway of a stately two-story mansion. I climb out, and Amelia follows, her eyes growing even wider as she takes in the unfamiliar house looming before her, elegant and imposing. Grasping her small hand in mine, I lead her to the grand mahogany front doors and knock, the sound echoing through the quiet air.
A maid, close to Beatrice in age, opens the door, her welcoming smile faltering as she notices Amelia at my side, no doubt sensing the young werewolf’s presence. Without a word, she steps aside, pulling the door open wider in silent invitation. She understands. A witch herself, she knows I would only dare bring Amelia here, to this place, if the situation was truly dire.
“Where are they?” I ask brusquely as we step into the foyer.
“The living room,” the maid replies softly before turning to walk away.
I tighten my grip on Amelia’s hand, feeling her pulse flutter against my palm as I guide her to the living room. I sense her gaze on our joined hands and glance over to see her transfixed by the sight. Mere months ago, you would have literally had to cut off my hand if you wished to join them with hers. But now, I find myself loathe to let go as we walk, craving her touch, her closeness.
We enter the living room to find Aunt Ava and Uncle Leo on the couch, the flickering light of the TV playing across their faces. Amelia stiffens beside me, her grip on my hand becoming almost painful. I snake an arm around her slender waist and lean in close, my breath stirring the fine hairs by her ear.
“She won’t lay a finger on you. Not while I’m here,” I murmur, my voice low and fierce. I pull back to meet her eyes, willing her to see the truth, the promise in my words.
“Junior,” Aunt Ava says, drawing my attention. I see the smile on her lips quickly fade as her eyes land on Amelia.
“Hello, Uncle, Aunt Ava.” Uncle Leo looks away from the TV at the sound of my voice, his brow furrowing as he notices my unlikely companion.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, switching off the television and focusing his full attention on us. My unannounced arrival with Amelia makes the gravity of the situation clear.
“Let’s speak in your office.”
“Of course, you know the way,” Uncle Leo replies, rising from the couch. I turn to Amelia, grasping her shoulders gently.
“I need to talk to them, but I’ll be right back,” I assure her, guiding her to sit on the sofa. She nods, accepting but uneasy.
I start to follow my aunt and uncle from the room when I feel a tug on my shirt. Glancing back, I see Amelia’s fingers twisted in the fabric, her blue eyes round and imploring.
“Please don’t be long,” she whispers, her voice small and vulnerable.
Bending down, I press a tender kiss to her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her freshly washed skin. “I promise.”
"Amelia." Nickolas's voice cuts through the haze of terror, his hand gripping my arm. I lift my eyes to meet his, and the grim understanding I see there only confirms my worst fears. Nothing good can come from Lord Easterlin knowing my true identity. I'm doomed.
"I'm doomed," I whisper, my bottom lip quivering as tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision. The weight of the realization crashes over me, stealing the breath from my lungs.
"No, you're not," Nickolas says firmly, his gaze intense as it locks with mine. There's a fierceness there, a determination that catches me off guard.
Desperation claws at my throat, and I grab onto his shirt, my fingers twisting in the fabric. "Please don't let him use me. I'll die if he does. Please don't let that happen," I plead, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. Tears slip down my cheeks, hot and stinging.
I know Nickolas doesn't care about me, not really. If Lord Easterlin requests to use me for my gift, Nickolas won't refuse. He can't. And Lord Easterlin... he'll drain every last drop of blood from my body. The thought sends icy tendrils of fear curling through my veins.
"Amelia, what did I tell you yesterday?" Nickolas asks, his voice cutting through the haze of panic.
"Yesterday?" I repeat, my brow furrowing as I try to focus, to remember. How can something he said then possibly matter now in the face of this nightmare?
"I promised you that any fucking person that dares to lay a finger on you will face my wrath," he reminds me, his words slow and deliberate.
"Yes, you did," I acknowledge with a sniffle, searching his face, trying to understand where he's going with this.
Nickolas reaches out, cupping my face in his warm palm. The touch is gentle grounding. "Now I'm going to make you another promise."
"What promise?" I ask, my heart stuttering in my chest.
"I will never use you for your gift or let any motherfucker do so," he vows.
Shock ripples through me, stealing my breath. "Really?" I whisper.
"I mean it, Amelia. No one and I mean no fucking person on this Earth, is taking a single drop of blood from you while I still breathe."
I suck in a shaky breath as his words sink in, as the full weight of his promise settles over me. I search his eyes, looking for any hint of a lie, but I find only sincerity burning bright. It's the same look he had yesterday when he made his first vow.
Wow. I can hardly reconcile this Nickolas with the one who barked at me to call him 'Your Majesty' just minutes ago. It's like they're two different people. The whiplash is dizzying.
"Come on, we're done for today," he says, taking my hand and leading me back towards the castle.
I walk beside him, my mind reeling as I try to make sense of it all, of these promises that feel so real, so binding. What does it mean for us, for this strange, complicated thing between us?
Are we still enemies, or something more? The lines are blurring, shifting beneath my feet, and I'm not sure anymore where we stand. But one thing is crystal clear - Nickolas's promises are not empty words.