I lick my fangs, thinking that perhaps I should go with her. I’m the only one who can truly protect her. But would I bring more attention and thus more danger?
Kellen is surprised when he finds me in the kitchen making dinner on my own. He sits down at the counter and hums.
“I thought you’d be inconsolable right now,” he says, watching me busy about. “Withering away in your rooms at the idea that Peony’s gone out again.”
I gnash my teeth together as I add some flour to my workspace and fold my puff pastry dough. “I’ve learned that I can’t stop her. All I can do is make it as painless as possible.”
He gives me a wry smile. “You’re coming to understand her. That’s good.”
I huff at him. As if he knows Peony better than I do.
“It’s good to see you happy, Rupert.”
I wrap up the dough and place it in the freezer, then dust my hands off on my apron as I turn to face him.
Happy? Is that what I am? I think it might be.
That sends a surprising stab of anxiety through me. I almost feel as if Kellen has cursed me just by saying it—by reminding me of what the old man said to me.
And you will never, ever find true happiness.
That had to have been bullshit. Perhaps Andy had the chance to rob us of our future together, but we overcame it. We made it through.
Right?
Suddenly, the front gate buzzer sounds. Kellen hops up to answer it, and Peony’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Kellen! Open it, please!” She sounds frantic. Immediately my mane rises, and before she can say anything further, I sprint to the front door. Throwing it open, I charge out of the manor, racing down the road to the front gate. There, Peony is trapped in her car, surrounded on all sides by vans and trucks. People are shouting her name, cameras flashing.
“Get away!” I roar, my voice a sharp crack through the air. Gasps and shouts rise from the crowd. “Let her through!”
The gate opens and I let out a massive bellow, scaring back the reporters who have crowded around Peony’s car. Her eyes are wide and terrified as she pulls through the gate, and I swipe at a cameraman who tries to follow her.
“Stay off of my property!” My voice booms across the whole gathering. “These claws aren’t just for show!”
Then I step back inside and the gate closes. Even more flashes go off, and the voices surge once more, the reporters lunging at me and poking their microphones through the gate. I turn around and chase after Peony’s car, and the moment she’s parked in front of the manor, I run to the driver’s side door and pull her out. She’s shaking, clinging to me.
I growl low in my throat.
“They were waiting for me,” she says as I lead her inside.
“Vultures,” I hiss under my breath.
When we’re in the door, I haul Peony into my arms and set us down on a settee in the sitting room.
“Perhaps we should move,” I tell her. “I have another property, one they don’t know about.” That’s it, now that I’ve said it aloud. I know that’s the solution. “We can go there instead. We’ll leave at night, maybe fly out by helicopter.”
Peony frowns. “But… this is home.”
I sigh, pulling her close to me. Then I glare out the window at the assembled mass by the gate, and a snarl licks at my lips.
“Let’s talk about it after dinner tomorrow,” Peony says, patting my cheek. Her breathing has steadied, so I put her down on her feet again. “All right?”
Of course, I have no choice but to give in.
“All right.”
thirty-one
