Another sigh. “And it’s a wonder she didn’t faint sooner. Those with magical blood are strong of body and soul—able to tolerate pain and hardship well—but their greatest vulnerability is emotion. Stress and anxiety often have physical effects on witches, especially young ones.”
I think back to the immense stress Sierra’s been under since meeting me and feel shame. I had no idea that anxiety prompted by meeting me and a change of scene would affect her well-being since I’m not very well-versed on witches. I also didn’t take her lack of sleep as seriously as I should have—shifters can go up to a week without sleep before succumbing to it, but humans are quite different. Sierra and Leisel are both a blend of human and witch—their bodies are vulnerable, but their magic makes for shared traits with witches of other realms.
“What can be done?” I ask Claude.
“Let the Alpha female sleep,” he responds. “Ensure she eats enough. Allow her to adjust; if you smother her with new tasks and responsibilities, she’ll certainly lose sleep over it, and gain a substantial amount of emotional turmoil. Then she’ll find herself bedridden again.”
He gives me a meaningful glance that, coming from anyone else, would be unacceptable. Claude, however, has earned leeway with the many ways he’s helped me over the years. After my father’s abdication a decade ago, I came to be quite reliant on him for advice.
With that, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I lock eyes with Leisel, who’s staring at me like I’m an enemy combatant who infiltrated her camp. It doesn’t cease to amaze me how easily she and Sierra hold my gaze. As though I’m not an Alpha whose very presence is frightening to grown hardened shifters. She shifts her body to face me fully, and I get the sense that she’s trying to be intimidating—trying to protect Sierra from me. Which is more amusing than irritating, given her size.
“She needs to rest,” Leisel snaps, her words harsh and clipped.
I let my gaze travel over Sierra—taking in every detail of her existence. I love looking at her most of the time, but seeing her so…vulnerablerankles me. I’m accustomed to seeing her hold her own against me and refuse to back down even when fighting back tears, so her current fragility is disconcerting.
“She appears to be resting just fine,” I point out, not appreciating Leisel’s subtle hint for me to leave.
I understand it—in her eyes, I’m quite literally the big bad wolf. The enemy. A direct threat to a woman who single-handedly raised her.
“She’s in this bed because of you!” Leisel exclaims. “The least you can do is back off! You’ve already hurt both of us enough!”
I see her eyes starting to shine with tears which tugs on my heart, as do her words, because I know they’re true. Sierra is bedridden because of me and me alone. That knowledge kills me. If I thought it would help, I would wrap Sierra in my arms and hold her close, protecting her from anything and everything. Unfortunately, it currently appears that I’m the biggest threat.
I murmur a curse and start pacing the length of the room, ignoring Leisel watching me quietly.
I’d come up to retrieve the sisters for dinner on impulse after receiving extremely unpleasant news on the movement of the primary vampire clan, one of the groups within their species, that threatens my kingdom. My first reaction was to seek out my mate, and the comfort she provides with her mere presence, even when that presence is edged with palpable hostility.
The very last thing I need right now is to be facing off with my Sierra, the one person who can potentially take out dozens of vampires with the lick of her flame.
It’s obvious to me why the gods paired Sierra and me; together, we’ll make an unstoppable team. I have substantial strength and battle stamina to back me, along with a track record as one of the best warriors to live in some time, and she can incinerate anything with her powers. Once she’s trained, it’s possible that she could demolish the entire hoard of vampires threatening us without needing to touch them.
Her viewing me as the enemy complicates our situation.
“I know you don’t like me, Leisel—”
“You don’t know,” she interrupts, shaking her head slowly. “You can’t possibly get how the sight of you disgusts me.”
Through the wave of irritation her words bring, I also feel a flash of admiration. Leisel’s remarkably intelligent and well-spoken for such a young tiny thing. That can only be attributed to Sierra’s teachings.
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” I tell her sincerely. “I want us to be on the same side.”
Leisel gives a snort that reminds me very much of Sierra.
I fall still when Sierra stirs. She shifts restlessly on the bed, her hands moving over the teal silk covers, as if in search of something. I can’t help the brief hope that washes over me; the hope that Sierra’s somehow reaching for me. That our bond is subconsciously pushing her to seek me out.
That hope is squashed when she speaks a mumbled slurred word. “…Leisel?”
Leisel, whose attention turned to Sierra when she first began shifting, reaches for Sierra’s hand and clasps it in her small ones. Sierra visibly settles at the touch, obviously only having clawed her way out of her slumber to ensure Leisel’s presence.
Leisel’s chipmunk, who I’ve heard her refer to as Chip, leaps onto Sierra’s chest and curls up on her as if offering comfort.
I let out a long, measured breath. “When she wakes up, I’d like to know immediately,” I tell Leisel, trying to word my request gently. “You’re welcome to stay with her while she rests—food will be brought up. I’ll pop in every few hours. Outside of that, you shouldn’t be disturbed.”
With that, I force myself to walk out of the room—which is easily one of my most difficult undertakings yet, since leaving my mate while she’s vulnerable feels like my own personal version of the underworld’s worst bowel.
***
