I finish the dregs of the wine in my glass before responding, “If you keep saying shit like that, yes.”
If he hadn’t opened his mouth and ruined the calm, however—or even stated his question in a slightly less asshole-ish way—I would’ve said no, my compliance needn’t be coerced. If I need to sit through eating with Camden every once in a while, I think I can manage that; especially if he continues to keep to his word of not touching me without my express verbal permission. I can tell it isn’t easy for him, considering the heat of his gaze, but he keeps himself restrained, which I appreciate.
“I’ll rephrase. Would you grace me with the pleasure of your company again tomorrow?”
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, considering. Saying yes feels like forfeiting, but saying no would only be inviting a challenge that Iultimately can’t win. And after Camden’s gesture tonight, I’m feeling ambivalent towards him more than anything, especially with Claude’s words from earlier still floating around in my mind. I can’t say I like Camden, but I can’t say I entirelydislike him either anymore. He has qualities that I find admirable, it’s mainly circumstances that make us such a strange pairing. If I were born a shifter, I think we’d actually get along quite well. As I was born an Earth witch, however, it’ll take a lot of effort from both of us to make any progress, and I’m not sure how much effort I’m ready to dedicate to the cause yet.
Still, for the sake of avoiding arguments, I respond, “Sure.”
Camden blinks at me in surprise. “That was easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t even have to bribe you to get you to agree.” He tilts his head to the side, concern creeping into his gaze as he looks me up and down, nostrils flaring. “Are you feeling well?”
Gods, are we really so bad that he assumes I’m sick if I agree to spend time with him? I guess, considering the track record of catastrophes occurring almost every time we’re in a room together, his reaction is appropriate. It also emphasizes the oddity of this entire situation.
“I’m not feeling like fighting a losing battle tonight,” I clarify.
That seems to displease him. Camden’s eyebrows draw together as he swirls the wine in his glass, taking his eyes off me for the first time since we sat down together. He stares at the rich crimson liquid for several seconds before swallowing what’s left in the glass, setting it down on the table with a distinct clank, and rising as he holds out his hand to me.
I stare at it for a beat before deciding to go with the flow and placing my hand in his, allowing him to pull me to my feet. All in all, he’s behaved himself tonight, and it wouldn’t be smart to repay decency with rudeness. This is, in fact, perhaps the most decent and non-hostile interaction I’ve had with Camden to date, which makesme slightly more amenable. Also, there’s no denying his studio gift bought him some leeway.
Leading me to the couch in front of the fireplace, Camden says, “I know I’m not your favorite person to spend time with, and I hope that will change. In the interim, I recall you being more relaxed around my wolf, and he has been pushingrelentlesslyto get some one-on-one time with you for several days. Before we go to the library, would you spend a few minutes with him?”
“You say ‘him,’” I observe, “as if you’re separate entities. Is that how shifters view their animal counterparts? As separate?”
Camden shakes his head. “Not at all. We share our soul with our wolves, or whatever animal resides within us—that’s as entwined as two beings can get. But while we are one, we are also two sides of the same coin: two faces representing the same soul. So, for the sake of that distinction, it’s easier to refer to our animals as separate.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “You’re unusually curious today.”
Instead of saying the first thing that pops into my mind—you can’t beat an enemy you don’t know—I say with a placid smile, “I’ll spend some time with your wolf. He has a stronger grasp on the concept of consent.”
A half smile curls Camden’s lips. “Not quite; if you tried to run, he’d tackle you. But he is also very fond of you and craves your affection. The human part of me was raised to forgo such luxuries; animals are far more elemental in their sentiments.”
I nod at the glimpse of insight, feeling more and more curious. Maybe it’s the magical part of me, or maybe it’s that I’ve always had a curious mind, but listening to Camden speak on his relationship with his wolf—explaining the ways they differ and how that correlates to a separate yet entwined nature—is fascinating to me.
My eyebrows lift in surprise when he shrugs off his dinner jacket and his fingers move to unbutton his shirt. Apparently, he’s not going to change somewhere else and come back in wolf form; in fact, I suspect he wants me to watch him undress, probably to tempt me. I spin around to face the fireplace so quickly that it makes me dizzy, and Camden’s low chuckle taunts me.
I’m not mentally prepared to see Camden naked after we shared a not-disastrous evening together. I know what we did last night strengthened our bond—tonight has been proof of that—and I don’t want to find out just how much by inviting temptation. So, I stare into the guttering embers of the fireplace until I hear a soft whine behind me that most definitely could not be made by a human.
I turn back around, coming face to face with Camden’s better half. The last time I saw the wolf, it was dark and we were camping in the middle of a forest, so I didn’t get a proper look at him. Now, in the well-lit palace, I see thatmagnificentis not a strong enough word to describe this beast. He’s twice the size of a normal wolf, covered in jet-black silky fur. His ears, tipped with a softer shade of gray fur, are perked in my direction. His eyes, icy and bright, are locked on me with all the intensity of a wolf but none of the danger. Despite everything about this creature’s appearance advertisingdanger, I get the strange sense that his energy towards me is more along the lines of anovergrown teddy bear.
As if to punctuate that thought, he lays down on the floor, rolls onto his back, presenting his gray furry belly, and cranes his head to look at me with pleading puppy-dog eyes. I feel a puff of astonished laughter escape me at the fact that this Alpha of Alphas, King of Kings wolf is begging me for a belly rub, complete with one long ongoing whine for attention.
The wolf’s tail starts to thump against the floor as I walk over and plop down beside him, resting my back against the base of the couch and leaning over to pet him.
“And your human half wonders why I prefer you over him,” I murmur. After a moment of the gigantic wolf—that really looks more like a grizzly bear from size alone—enjoying a belly scratch while panting happily, he flips over and scoots closer to me, resting his massive head on my leg. When I don’t immediately return to petting him, he whines and nestles closer to me.
“So, you might wait to initiate contact, but once you get an inch you take a mile, hmm?” I coo, scratching behind his ears. Seeing the dualism of the shifter soul up close really is intriguing.
The wolf lets out a soft bark of agreement, draping one of his paws over my leg. We sit in comfortable silence for ten or fifteen minutes, the wolf progressively cuddling closer as I pet him and murmur to him, until he’s draped halfway across my lap, making a noise that’s suspiciously close to a purr for a canine.
A flurry of soft knocks at the door announces a new arrival; from the speed and strength of the sounds, I already know it’s Leisel knocking. Greta probably took her up here since we haven’t left for the library yet. The wolf’s head lifts from my lap as he looks in the direction of the door, inhales deeply through his nostrils—probably scenting for danger—and then scoots off me with a chuff of irritation.
The wolf picks up Camden’s clothes with his sharp teeth and trots out of the room, through the doorway leading deeper into his chambers. Apparently, the wolf even has a deeper sense of modesty than the man. When the knocks come once again, I stand and walk over to the door, not keen on keeping my sister waiting.
It wasn’t uncommon for Leisel and me to spend part of our days separate, especially when it was harvesttime—I worked eighteen-hour days in the fields while she remained inside with her studies. Still, being separated from her all day in a foreign place isn’t easy.
When I swing open the door, it reveals Leisel wearing an adorable pink dress, and Greta standing behind her, watching Leisel fondly. My sister leaps into my arms, knocking the wind out of me, and immediately starts to chatter away in my ear about everything and nothing.
I set her on her feet but keep a hold of her hand as she tells me about her day, learning how royal dinners work from Greta, and anything else that springs to her mind. Seeing my sister’s habit of talking endlessly return is a consolation because thus far, she’s been quiet and withdrawn—especially with what just recently happened with Kyron. I know it rattled her more than appearances show, but seeing my sister’s resilience serves as a small reminder that at least I’ve doneonething in this life right: raising her.
When Camden emerges from his personal chambers, in human form and dressed, I ask my sister, “Ready to go see the biggest library in existence?”
