Two identical blondes giggled together. The beast dismissed them all.
Not ours.
I moved slowly down the line. My cape dragged across the marble floor behind me. I stopped briefly before one female. Leaned close. Pretended to consider her. The scent was wrong. Too sweet. Too artificial. I moved on.
Jessica practically vibrated with anticipation when I paused near her. She leaned closer, tilting her head so her hair fell forward. I lowered my head as if to smell it. Then I straightened again with a soft grunt and stepped past her. Disappointment flashed across her face. Behind her, Chet was watching with delight. He wanted tension. Drama. Anticipation. I gave it to him.
Step by step I moved down the line. Until I reached Tori.
My mate stood perfectly still, her gaze lifted just above my shoulder as if she refused to acknowledge me. The act was excellent. But her scent betrayed her. Warm. Nervous. Aroused. The beast surged again, my cock heavy and aching to claim her.
I stopped directly in front of her.
"You," I said. The single word left my mouth in a low rumble that vibrated through the air between us. Her eyes lifted instantly to meet mine.
"Warlord?" Chet's voice floated across the room, high with surprise. "Are you certain?"
I did not look at him. I only looked at her. At the flush rising along her throat. At the small crown slipping again in her hair. At the unmistakable hunger in her eyes that matched the one burning inside me.
"I am certain."
"Excellent!" Chet recovered quickly, clapping his hands together as if everything had gone exactly according to his plan. "Will the chosen contestant please step forward."
Tori stepped forward. I saw the slight tremor in her hands. The scent of her anxiety reached me through the warm air drifting in from the terrace—salt, flowers, and the faintest edge of adrenaline. My mate was nervous. My beast disliked that immediately.
Protect. He demanded.
Yes. What did he think I was trying to do?
I reached for her hand. Her fingers slid into mine automatically, soft and warm against my calloused palm. The moment our skin touched, something inside me settled slightly. The restless pressure of the beast eased as I guided her toward the platform.
"The spell requires three ingredients," Chet repeated once Tori stood next to me on the raised stage, his voice bright as he attempted to maintain the theatrical mood. "Warlord, if you would…"
I opened the velvet pouch and held it out to her.
"A boon for the warrior, my lady," Chet announced grandly, "symbolizing connection."
I stared at my mate. A loose strand of her dark hair had escaped the small crown perched on her head. It fell across her cheek, soft against her skin. My fingers lifted it gently. The contact sent a subtle tremor through her body. The beast noticed immediately.
She pulled a small square of fabric from her cleavage and held it out to me.
Fuck. I took it and pressed it to my nose. Inhaled. Shoved it into the velvet pouch that Chet Bosworth and his crew were never getting back.
"A drop of wine," Chet continued, leaning forward eagerly. "Symbolizing passion."
A nervous young male dressed like a court scribe appeared next to us with one goblet full of wine balanced on a silver tray. He held it out to Tori who lifted it and took a drink before handing the glass to me.
I placed my lips exactly where hers had been and drank, the hint of her still on the edges of the crystal.
"And finally…" Chet's voice dropped dramatically, his eyes shining with theatrical delight. "…a kiss. Symbolizing destiny."
8
Egon
* * *
I was about to kiss my female in front of everyone. No hiding. No deception. She was fucking mine and I wanted everyone to know the truth. The ballroom fell silent. My hands rose almost without conscious thought, framing her face. Her skin was warm beneath my palms. Her eyes were wide.
