Stop. Stop it, Cammie. He’ll destroy you. Cyrus won’t.
Cyrus would love her. Maybe not passionately, maybe not romantically, but he would. Was that not good enough?Morethan good enough, under the circumstances?
Viktor was passionate and he lit her blood on fire, but he was also danger and old, bitter heartbreak. Better that she be safe than risk the dire consequences of losing whatever game the shifter was playing with her.
Her feed screen chimed with a call alert.
Camille’s eyes snapped open. Sucking in a deep breath, she reached for the small remote by her thigh and accepted the call.
The feed screen in her sitting room was large enough to give the impression that the people displayed on it were life size. With the crystal clear picture, it was as if Camille was sitting in the Noor family estate, surrounded by rich color and gleaming copper furnishings.
Warmth bloomed in her chest. “Arabella,” she greeted, pleasantly surprised. “Cyrus, good afternoon. I didn’t realize you’d be sitting in on the meeting.”
Arabella Noor sat on a low, richly embroidered sofa, her deep sapphire skin and inky black hair mirrored in her son, who appeared beside her. Where she was slim and delicate, her son was thickly built, with strong, roughly-hewn features and eyes of the softest feeling. She felt the warmth in his gaze even through the screen.
“Seeing as you are already familiar with my son, we didn’t think the formality was necessary.” Arabella was direct, as always, with a crisp, professional demeanor that barely hid the deep well of warmth Camille knew she possessed. She was ruthless and dominant as any head of a large elvish family had to be, of course, but Arabella was also kind.
Only a loving mother, a kind one, would cultivate the gentleness of Cyrus’s spirit. Camille’s own mother would never have done so.
“I’m glad,” she replied, unafraid to be honest. “It is so good to see you both. It’s been too long.”
Cyrus leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees, his heavy brow furrowed in an expression of open concern. “How have you been, Camille?”
Her throat tightened. “As well as can be expected.” She tried for a smile, but it came out shakier than she wanted it to.
Cyrus’s lips, lush and soft, turned down at the corners. “I’m sorry about your mother. I know how dedicated you were to her.”
“She was lucky to have you as a daughter,” Arabella chimed in, firm even in her kindness. “Your loyalty to your mother and her care is something to be proud of, Camille, even as you grieve her death.”
Loyalty?Camille considered the word as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat.
Had she always been loyal? No.
No, there was a shining moment where she hadn’t been loyal to her mother at all. She’d been beautifully selfish for once in her life. Camille had been willing to throw her mother’s opinion away, to abandon her twin, for a shot at a future with her coyote.
And that moment taught her the most valuable lesson of her life: the only people she could trust were her kin.
It was her mother who whisked her away from San Francisco as soon as Camille confessed about the pull. It was her mother who held her as she cried, her viciousness subdued in the face of her daughter’s acute agony. It was her mother who helped her find ways to purge herself of him, to free herself of the painful grip on her instincts, to move on when it felt impossible.
Guilt was a sour taste in her mouth as she remembered Viktor’s hands on her skin, his husky words in her ear. She’d promised her mother that she would get away from the Solbournes, not fall prey to the pull the moment it reared its head again.
I am trying my best. It’s not my fault Viktor decided it was his business.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you, Arabella. I appreciate it.” Summoning a smile, she waved a gloved hand in the universal gesture ofmoving on.“But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Arabella laid a hand on her son’s arm. Glancing at him, she said, “We were pleased to receive word that you had begun negotiations again. We were concerned that your cousin's recent marriage would have changed your mind.”
“The sovereign hasn’t banned unions.” Camille watched their faces closely, looking for any signs of true discontent. While she liked the Noors, shewasa Solbourne. Her awareness that someone might try to feel her out for information, or even as a potential ally against her family, was always high. “He merely decided it was time we stopped pretending that our strategy is working. That doesn’t mean all of us will be as lucky as he is in love, however.”
Arabella nodded, her expression inscrutable. “True. There were unions before the moratorium.”
“They have a valuable place.”
“Certainly.”
Cyrus’s voice, soft and smooth, drifted from the speakers. “I know that if we joined our families there would be great financial and social benefits, but… I hope that our union would not be only about that.” He swallowed. “I enjoy your company, Camille. It would be an honor to be your spouse.”
Camille’s heart ached as she watched Cyrus' blue skin flush a darker navy. His expression was wary but hopeful, making the ache in her chest worse.
