Wyatt shakes his head slowly, reaching one hand up to stab his fingers through his hair, looking as distraught as I’ve ever seen him. “This is why grieving shifters shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions.”
“I’m hardly grieving,” I retort, “We both knew it was only a matter of time before Father died; he’s been too weak to leave his home for the better part of a year. I was distraught last night, the news came as a shock to my system, but I grieved a man who’s been dead for some time—who died when Mother did. Being with Sierra helped wipe much of my sorrow away.”
Growing more irate, Wyatt snaps, “You let your emotions take the wheel, and now, you’ve very possibly permanently fucked yourself over with your mate!”
That statement does not sit well with me at all. The idea that I’ve done something wrong when every morsel of my being is screaming that I’ve taken the exact right steps to secure a future, shakes me—especially coming from my brother, whose judgment I trust.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarl.
“The fact that this is something she’llrightfullysee as a blatant betrayal!” Wyatt snaps. “You marked and mated her during a blood moon, without informing her of the risks. What do you think will happen when she finds out she’s pregnant, hmm? You think she’ll just accept it?”
“I think that she has the strongest maternal instincts I’ve ever seen,” I growl.
“Fuckingexactly!”Wyatt shouts.“How could you thinkshe’d bring a child into the world after being manipulated into it,especiallywhile we’re about to enter an all-out war with the vampires? You want to know what I think she’ll do? Everything in her power toabortit! Then she’ll take her sister and get away from shifters because you tried toentrapher! Any trust built between you, gone. Any progress I’ve made with Leisel, gone. We just lost our father, which I imagine was a blow for you, and now you’ve set us on a path to lose our mates too! So, I repeat,what the fuck have you done?”
My blood runs cold as I process Wyatt’s words, forced to come to terms with the very grim truth of them. He’s right, not telling Sierra the full scope of the situation last night and lying this morning will most likely come around to bite me in the ass. I don’tthinkshe’d ever try to end a life of a child, but then…I can’t say that with certainty. What I do know is she has a vengeful streak a mile wide and could respond to her situation on principle. If she finds out I tried to trap her permanently, she’ll try to escape. The smart thing to do would be to get rid of anything that could inhibit that escape, such as a life that binds us together.
Fuck.
My thoughts race at a million miles a second as I try to think through my next steps. My grief and sorrow got the best of me, causing me to act rashly. There’s no going back now; all I can do is plan contingencies for the future.
I lock gazes with Wyatt, and tell him, “Nobody breathes a word of this to Sierra. She will not find out she’s pregnant until the child is formed enough that she wouldn’t have the heart to get rid of it. Anyone in the castle who dares tell her the truth will be executed for treason.”
If possible, my brother's eyes bulge even more. His mouth falls agape, and he looks lost for words. Finally, he demands, “Are you fucking insane?”
“It’s the only way to ensure my heir is carried to term!” I yell.
Wyatt shakes his head. “No. No, I won’t be part of deceiving my Alpha female and ourqueen. She deserves the truth.”
“You tell her, and I’ll lock you in the dungeons to keep you away from Leisel for the next fucking year,” I tell my brother clearly. “Don’t test me, Wyatt. You know I will.”
Wyatt deflates and fear replaces the anger in his expression. His posture slumps, and he gives me a look of such pain and betrayal that it tugs on my chest. I’ve always been my brother’s protector; outside of play-fighting, sparring, and the occasional healthy duel between siblings, I’ve never threatened him. I don’t think either of us can believe it in this scenario, but I can’t be rational now. Not with what’s at stake.
Wyatt stands slowly from the couch, trembling with a mixture of rage and pain. He says, “Maybe Sierra was right about us, Camden. At least there’s no fucking doubt that you’re a monster.”
With that, he turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sierra
In the days that follow, I’m too swept up with duties and tasks and preparations for the upcoming negotiations to do much thinking about the bite mark that now permanently graces my neck or the fact that I still can’t fathom how what was meant to be a night sharing a bed devolved into what it did. Honestly, keeping my mind off of it is a relief—being buried in work, I don’t even have to see Camden, which means I don’t have to confront the reality of my new situation quite yet. He has his own tasks to tend to, both related to his father’s funeral in the coming weeks and to the war that’s fast approaching, so we don’t see much of each other.
I do, however, spend a great deal of time with Wyatt, who seems unusually subdued and quiet, staying task-oriented with minimal conversation. I assume that it’s grief from his father’s death that has him down, though I got the impression from Camden that there was little love lost between his brother and father.
The evening before the negotiation day, when the witches will enter Kinrith and come to the palace for discussions, I’m quarantined in the war room with Wyatt, putting in yet anotherverylate night of work to make sure everything is ready. After a week of hearing only minimalistic answers from him, his usual sociopolitical rants absent, I’m starting to get a tad worried. I can’t have him acting like a living corpse when the witches show up.
I don’t think he’ll respond to me straight up asking what crawled up his ass and died—he might consider it a tad too forward—so I decide to be a little bit more covert with my inquiry.
As we’re going over pages upon pages of framework for the treaty we intend to propose, papers and books scattered in front of us on the table holding the world map, I ask Wyatt, “Were you close with your father?”
He glances up from the book he’s reading, appearing a little startled at my question. Considering our conversations the last few days have been kept strictly to negotiations and everything surrounding them, I can’t fault his surprise.
After a second, he snorts and shakes his head. “My father was an absolute prick with few morals and even fewer ethics. He refused to look outside the scope of shifters’ lives, and he punished anyone who tried to tell him he was wrong. I was not close with him at all.”
I nod slowly, taking in the new information. “So…you didn’t have a good relationship with him like Camden?”
Wyatt makes a face of faint disgust. “No, I did not hold the position in his eyes and heart as the golden heir—I was the spare, and one he considered too opinionated. I was always too loud with too many ideas and too sharp a mind—something he saw as a potential threat to the crown.” He pauses, a sad smile creeping onto his face. “Father actually intended to send me across the world to live and train with the warrior pack when I was fourteen. That’s how much he wanted me gone.”
