Lycan sighed into Seath’s neck, hating how he needed reassurance, but craving it just the same.
“I trust you Seath, it’s just . . .” Lycan trailed off, searching for the words he couldn’t find easily. “This whole thing, Taured, Donovan, it…” he didn’t know how to describe it. It hurt, to be honest. It tugged his mind and hurt his body. It drained him like nothing else did, making spots swim before his eyes if he thought too long or too hard about it. Thankfully, he could shift and heal from those effects. But, this morning had been difficult, as if the mind-magic wanted to weigh him down, to pull him through sand. Nothing good would come of worrying Seath, though.
No, Seath had enough on his mind without Lycan’s fear and his physical barriers. So, Lycan forced a smile.
“I trust you, Seath. But, thank you for understanding how difficult this is for me. I’m going to go spend some time with my wolf. If not, I’m about to rub myself all over you so you smell very pungently like a mated Alpha.”
Seath smiled, smelling content with that answer.
“Go. I’ll come to bed as soon as I can.” He kissed his mate deeply. “You can make me smell like you all you want tonight.”
Greene, Seath and Caine, along with Briar and Teller, made their way over to Brightwater in the pack vehicles, despite how close it was to the Pack House.
The old home had a very large downstairs area, and that was used to make the introductions of the small group Seath and Greene had intentionally put together. The contingent from Taured was much bigger and Seath had hoped it would put Tremon at ease for them to arrive outnumbered.
Tremon kept them waiting, of course, and then strode into the room with far too many guards, managing not to signal his fear, but a certain distrust of the Northwest Pack.
Greene and Seath were announced, and then Tremon and Donovan. As Greene and Tremon walked over to chairs and couches that had been placed in the large drawing room for their informal meeting that night, Seath noticed Donovan for the first time.
He was beautiful, that was no doubt. Slim and pretty, but he never spoke, never looked up, hardly. If anything, Prince Donovan seemed cowed or simply shy, perhaps. It was hard to tell.
There was something familiar about him, but Seath didn’t want to stare, lest it be taken quite the wrong way by the people in the room. He could be Lycan’s cousin, with the similar coloring and look.` One thing for sure was the complete lack of draw to the man. The complete lack of spark for anything.
The opposite of his beautiful, smart, capable mate waiting for him at home.
Greene’s low rumble finally got them down to business, after pleasantries that Tremon barely acknowledged. Greene made sure that everyone had tea, and dessert, although the group would have already been fed when they arrived. This was no state dinner, of course, but it was prime fare, nicely done and plentiful, since Tremon seemed to have mostly brought his soldiers. Or at least people who looked to be big men and women with big appetites.
“Yes, well, the arrangements are suitable,” Tremon said waspishly. “As well as could be expected here.”
“If there is anything—“
Tremon shook his hair, not blond but not quite brown, either, staring down a long nose.
“Anything? We should not be here except for a union of Seath and Donovan. We all know that to be the case. I won’t plead our case to you, but that is the long and short of it. These comforts you offer fall short because we should not be here in the first place.”
Teller stepped closer to Greene, and Seath could see an almost imperceptible shake of Greene’s head to the bodyguard.
“I know this situation is not ideal. But it is what it is, Tremon. The mating mark has been made and has held. There is no denying that. For whatever reason, the betrothal was not well taken from the beginning.”
Tremon’s gaze became hard, dark eyes glittering dangerously in his face and Seath could smell the burning tinge of magic, as if Tremon was trying to reach for it. He couldn’t, of course, not with the threshold wards over the house.
“I will agree to no such conclusions. You violated a sacred oath, as did your Legate. And you intend to do so without consequence. It will not stand.”
“And what about the prince?” Seath interjected. As it was, the man still had not seemed moved.
Tremon’s focus changed. His precise, daggered look to Seath morphed to almost a glazed look at Donovan.
“You have no right to speak to the prince or of him, shifter,” Tremon spit out.
Greene sighed, knowing any further offer of hospitality would be met similarly. He gestured to Seath, and they stood to go. They had done their duty, had met with Tremon and offered the best they could in the situation.
Seath’s gaze landed back on the prince. Something was off about the man, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe something about his features, but his mind couldn’t place what it was, exactly.
“I appreciate your travels and the effort to do so, please let the Brightwater staff know if anything can be done to make your stay more comfortable.”
With that, Greene stood to leave, and Seath followed. Caine unfolded himself from the armchair he had settled in, and walked in step with Seath.
On the way out, Donovan’s gaze didn’t even drift to him. But, the light shifted in the room as the threshold let in a bit more of the evening glow from outside and cast a strange shadow across Donovan’s face. Seath almost stumbled, unable to put his finger on what he saw in Donovan’s face, but still being taken aback by it.
