Chapter 179 – Private Negotiations
Eli
Ronan hasn’t stopped pacing since we came in. He walks the length of the carpet and back again silently, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
We all tense when three measured taps sound at the door. There’s nothing tentative about it. Definitely not a servant.
Mara’s already in front of the door, dagger in hand. “Who is it?”
“Your host,” Alaric answers, voice muffled by carved oak and still somehow acerbic.
“I found I have a request. It will aid me greatly in coming to a decision about your proposal.”
I feel Ronan’s anger hit the bond like a hammer on a bell. It vibrates down my spine, bright and dangerous. I touch the back of his wrist without looking at him and he stills.
Mara opens the door.
Alaric glides in with two guards who stop at the threshold and pretend to be stone. He doesn’t look at anyone else first. His eyes come to me and stay there.
“I hope your quarters are adequate,” he says lightly, as if he hasn’t spent the last hour poisoning the air with politeness. “Silvercrest prides itself on hospitality.”
“We’re very impressed,” Mara says dryly. She moves aside but not far.
Ronan doesn’t bow. “What do you want, Alaric?”
Alaric’s smile widens as if this is all terribly charming.
“A small request. I find decisions of consequence require focus. Your… petition, deserves careful thought. I’d like to borrow your Omega for the evening.”
His glance drags over me like a hand that hasn’t learned manners.
The room shrinks. The fire cracks. Ronan’s breath roughens and the muscles in his neck cord with strain.
“No,” he says.
It isn’t loud. It doesn’t have to be. The word lands and the air freezes around it.
Alaric’s eyebrows lift, pleased. “Is refusal the custom in Blackthorn when a host requests the simplest courtesy? How do you propose we share him if you can’t let him go for a single evening?”
“He’s not a courtesy,” Ronan says. “He’s mine.”
Alaric looks delighted. “You declare mate at my table, now mine in my hall. How romantic.”
His gaze returns to me, glittering in warning. “Still, I prefer to hear from the subject himself. Little omega, do you object to a few hours of conversation with your host?”
Ronan moves before I even process the words. Sliding his body in front of mine and hiding me from view. I can’t let this all go to hell now.
I press my palm between his shoulder blades, a touch small enough that only he will feel the command in it. He stops, but his spine is a rod under my hand.
I step past him and keep my eyes lowered, the way an obedient creature should. “If it pleases you, Alpha, I will attend.” My voice is smooth, gentle, utterly harmless.
Ronan’s breath hits the back of my neck in a violent exhale. “Eli-”
“It’s all right,” I say softly, without turning. “It’s the least I can do for our pack. And of course, our gracious host”
Alaric folds his hands, all patience. “How civil.”
I keep my head bowed. “I would like to be clear on one point. We will only talk, there won’t be any touching. Not before you and Ronan reach an agreement.”
A flash of something mean crosses his face and is gone even faster than it appeared. “I swear,” he says, mild as milk.
Ronan’s laugh is a sound made of broken glass. “Your word is not exactly known to mean much.”
“Careful Ronan. Insulting me may not be your wisest course of action,” Alaric replies, eyes still on me.
I take a deep breath so I can feel the collar pressing against my skin. Drawing strength from leather and the memory of the night Ronan gave it to me, until the shaking in my hands becomes stillness.
Ronan’s voice scrapes low. “If you harm a single hair on his head, I will pull your keep down stone by stone.”
“Such a passionate champion for your omega. It’s no wonder he thinks you’re powerful,” Alaric says pleasantly. He tilts his head graciously. “I’ll give you five minutes to reassure your owner, Omega. Then you’ll come to me and we’ll talk of peace.”
He steps back toward the door and before he leaves, his gaze flicks to Kieran. “Sleep well, son. Tomorrow will be a very busy day.”
When the door closes, the room exhales like lungs that nearly forgot how.
Ronan turns on me. He doesn’t bare his teeth. He doesn’t need to. The fury in him is a living thing pressed down hard beneath iron.
“You’re not going.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “I am. I have to.”
He paces two strides to spend his rage on the wall, then comes back with his knuckles bleeding and not calmer. “You don’t understand what he’ll do.”
“I do,” I say, taking his hands and pressing my lips to them until the wounds are healed.
“He’ll make a show of kindness and try to humiliate me. It’s his favorite sport. But he has no idea who I really am. He only sees an omega and assumes weakness. If he tries anything, I’ll take care of it.”
Ronan shakes his head. “He has guards surrounding him, Eli.”
“I’m going,” I say, and finally look up into his eyes. The pain there almost takes me under, but I manage to keep my voice level.
“It’s my choice. And I won’t be the reason you set the Voice loose in a hallway and then you’re forced to use it repeatedly. Doing exactly what you swore not to. It’s my turn to protect you.”
He closes his eyes, and the strongest man I know looks, for one breath, like someone trying not to bleed words.
“You shouldn’t have to,” he whispers.
“I want to,” I retort.
His jaw works and the muscles in his throat jump. He catches my wrist and brings it to his mouth, not a kiss so much as a vow he needs his lips on. When he lets go, his voice is raw. “Scream if you need me. I’ll be listening.”
When a single, soft knock falls on the door, he steps back because he has to. I keep my hands loose and my head down because I have to.
Mara opens the door and a slim young man bows so low his spine might crack. “My lord awaits,” he says to me. “If it pleases you.”
I follow the servant out without another word.
The air in the corridor has cooled, the lamps turned down low. Our footsteps ghost along the stone in a way I don’t like.
The servant keeps his eyes on the floor. I keep mine on the collar of his tunic and on the way his shoulders flinch at nothing. No guards trail us. At least not any that I can see.
I breathe the scent of Ronan that rises from my clothes and remind myself that he’s always with me. His essence embedded in the mark at my throat, his name in the place under my tongue where it lives.
The servant stops before a pair of tall doors banded with thin sheets of silver, polished to a high shine.
He gestures without meeting my eyes. “The mirror chamber. My lord is waiting for you inside.”
I turn my head just enough to align my body with obedience. I let my mouth soften into polite lines, let my eyes lower, let my hands slide open at my sides. The picture of a quiet, pliant, harmless omega.
The door opens on Alaric’s smile and a room full of my own reflection.
“Come in,” he commands, pleased with his own arrangement of glass and cruelty.
I bow my head. “As you wish, Alpha.”
And then I step inside.