“Your family helped me. They came up with the plan, and Vesta and Arjun got me inside.”
Sloane was silent for a beat. In a strange, halting voice, he said, “My family?”
“Your family,” she murmured. “Who love you. Who aren’t gonna let you leave them or let themselves be taken from you. Who aren’t gonna make you choose.Thatfamily.”
“My family always dies,” he choked out.
Cecilia stroked his skin. It was to comfort him as much as it was to comfort herself. “Not this time, and never again. I promise.”
He nodded shakily into her neck. “Are you injured?”
She stroked the back of his neck with the tips of her fingers before taking the opportunity to explore his nearly white, cornsilk soft hair. “I’m totally fine. Might’ve busted a toe or two kicking some elves, but otherwise I’m fit as a fiddle.”
A husky laugh tickled her skin. “You kicked someone?”
“Amongst other things.”
“Why? They were rescuing you.”
She gave the tip of his pointed ear a tiny pinch. “They were beating up my man. And it was twelve on fuckingone!That isn’t fair,” she argued. “Look at you! How could I just sit and do nothing when they were doingthisto you?”
Sloane drew in a deep and painful-sounding breath. She was no doctor, but she didnotlike the sound his lungs made. “I am… very proud to be your man.”
“And I’m proud to be your consort,” she replied, hugging him as close as she dared.
Resting his head on her shoulder, he whispered, “Cece…”
Hiss. Thud. Thud.
Eyes stinging, adrenaline surging, and rage searing her veins, Cecilia leapt up from Sloane’s lap.
Teeth bared, she put herself in front of him and yanked the knife out of her pocket. Her elf said something, some order she was too furious to hear, when she unsheathed the blade and held it with both hands before her — pointed directly at the big, green orc who made the terrible mistake of stepping into the room.
“You can’t take him,” she cried, a furious tear spiraling down her cheek.
The orc, dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans, stopped short in the doorway. From behind him, a much smaller, golden-skinned woman poked her head out.
“Oh,” the woman huffed, “youmustbe Cecilia.”
Raising the knife, she barked, “My name is Cece and I’m Sloane’s consort. It’s too late. You can’t take him away from me!”
The orc put his kohl-dark hands on his lean hips. Letting out a very put-upon sigh, he said to the woman, “This is what you wanted to talk about, isn’t it?”
EPILOGUE
The sun streamedthrough the blinds, casting streaks of warm light across the plain white bedspread.
Cecilia watched the dawn light creep across Sloane’s restful face. The glow followed the dips and curves of his sloping forehead, proud nose, and softened lips. It sparkled in the pale tips of his eyelashes and the barely there hint of stubble on his strong chin.
He was beautiful. Astonishingly, brutally beautiful. There hadn’t been a moment to truly appreciate it before, so she took every soft second of his slumber into her hands and held fast.
His bruises and cuts had been healed. The dark circles under his eyes had faded. The tension around his mouth melted away. Even in sleep, he was that young, hopeful creature she met in the interrogation room. As soon as Captain Le Roy explained that they wouldn’t be separated — after he calmly asked her to lower her knife — Sloane had been in something of a daze.
She understood that well enough. Cecilia was in something of a daze herself.
I have a mate,she thought for the thousandth time.I have a mate and he’s my phantom and he’s broken and he’s perfect because he’s mine.
Cecilia watched his eyelashes flutter, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Good morning,” she whispered, tracing one pale brow with the tips of her fingers.
