Page 156 of Forsaking All Others

“Friends with benefits?” She snaps.

“I am her confidante, her protector,” I retort sharply as I walk away from her and head back towards the parlour and the others, “and her friend. Nothing more.”

“The only thing I can see she might need protection from is the uber-hot psycho she’s married to,” she huffs as she walks fast to keep up with me.

‘Exactly.’

“But from the way they acted, it seems like she can handle him well enough without any aid from a protector.”

Her words, laden with sarcasm, immediately rile me.

“You think you know what it is to live under a shadow,” I snarl, stopping mid-stride and turning back to her, “because you fear your Godfathers? They’re nothing but school-yard bullies compared to those who truly have power. Vampire dynasties have come and gone over the centuries, not due to any human interference. You have no idea what enemies we face or trials we endure.”

“I know about the Free Men,” she retorts, “if that’s who you’re referring to.”

“It is not.”

“But,” she frowns, “you‘re the top of the food chain. You’re royal, you’re immortal, you’re…”

“Still fallible, still able to be killed,” I scowl. “Stop thinking of me as some kind of superhero, Catriona. I’m just a man.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re a vampire.”

“Yes,” I sigh, “I’m a man who drinks blood in order to survive. And yes, I’m stronger than human men, ‘in some regards,’ but I still have enemies, I still have problems, I can still die.”

“And you can still love the wrong woman,” She says quietly, her eyes not leaving mine.

“For what it’s worth, she told me to pick you.”

She laughs without humour, and I grit my teeth.

“I never lied to you,” I hold her gaze. “I told you I wouldn’t love the woman who won The Games.”

“No, you never lied,” she shakes her head, “but you sure as shit withheld some vital information.”

119

I stand beside Thorun, both of us looking spectacular in our white dresses, even if I do say so myself, as we await the commencement of the final ceremony.

We haven’t seen each other for several days now. Once we’d left Jag’s castle we were flown to separate destinations to be fitted for gowns and prepared for tonight’s gala performance.

The culmination of the season.

The choosing of the bride.

Usually, the two potential brides are dressed dissimilarly to highlight their unique qualities, but tonight the costume department has decided to put us in quasi-wedding dresses. Thorun’s features a tight bodice and broad sweeping skirts covered in tiny Swarovski crystals in the shape of little snowflakes. She has a matching crown of diamonds and looks like a fairy princess, and almost child-like, despite her curves. I have no idea who the designer is. If I had to guess, I’d say someone who dresses Björk. Mine is an Yves St. Laurent dream, a creamy white satin sheath that appears pale gold in the light and clings from head to toe, with a more modest trail. I didn’t get a crown, but I kind of feel a little like a movie star, and I know they’ve gone for a Sophia Loren look. It’s stupid, but I also feel strangely triumphant knowing that even if I’m slaughtered tonight, Valentino will never have the satisfaction of knowing I wore such a dress for him.

And I’m pretty sure I am going to be killed tonight.

Jag hadn’t spoken to me on the ride to the airport from his family castle, although he’d been polite enough with Thorun. I’m guessing that he hadn’t anticipated being confronted over his relationship with Lady Dragonspur, and I know that the last thing he wants is emotional turmoil from a future wife in name only.

‘And if she said he should choose me after my conversation with her, it can’t be coming from a good place. For sure he’ll do the opposite.’

Thorun looks sideways at me and smiles, but I can’t return the smile.

Not tonight.

I don’t for a second think Jag made me save her only to have to kill her himself. I don’t know why I agreed to his bargain, and I still don’t know if this is my last night on earth and he actually plans to kill me. All I know is that when he looked into my eyes and asked me to ‘trust’ him, I had to. I did. I believed he had honour.