Page 162 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I laughed and batted his hand away as I stood.

“I like your laugh. I admire your tenacity. Whether you admit it or not, I don’t think friendship would be difficult to build. As for the rest?” He shrugged. “I’d hope it follows.”

“And if it didn’t?”

“Are you underestimating me, Miss Porter?”

I swallowed. Audibly. The handsome bastard grinned like he’d just won something.

“You’ll find I don’t balk at a challenge. If the worst burden I acquire fulfilling my duty as heir is marriage to a savage warrior—and watching other men lust after her while knowing she’s loyal to me—I’d call myself lucky.”

“No one deserves a loveless marriage.”

“Respect is earned. Friendship is built. Love is a choice. If we don’t get there in a few millennia, I did something unforgivable along the way.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You wear your duty well, Atreus.”

“As do you,” he said, his eyes softening as that smile fell away into something too serious for my comfort.

“So.” I set the bottle down and rounded the table, keeping it between us. If I couldn’t find another way to secure this alliance, eventually I’d have to let the motherfucker into my space. But this? This felt far too much like entertaining an honest-to-god suitor in my mate’s fucking house.

My mate.

My throat tightened around Cyrus. Around the fact that he’d said nothing—done nothing—when Cadoc pulled that stunt in the first place.

A political marriage might murder any hope of happiness, but if my people got what they needed, I could survive it. As for Cyrus? His silence had made his position on our disaster of a bond perfectly clear. I’d remedy it for him myself.

I cleared my throat. “About this Viktor. We can meet tomorrow?”

“Wear something fabulous. He’s a sucker for cleavage.”

A cackle burst out of me. Heat climbed my cheeks as I covered my mouth and tried very hard not to notice how pleasant the rasp of his laughter was.

“In the interest of candor,” he added with a smile that could melt glaciers.

“Get out of here, you cad.” I smacked his shoulder. He caught my hand, kissed the back of it again, then straightened. After a dip of his chin toward Carr, his eyes returned to mine.

“Until tomorrow.”

I gave a stiff little nod. “Until tomorrow.”

THIRTY-ONE

IN ANY FORM

MAGNOLIA

Seven Sisters, the bear was massive—twice my height and thrice as broad. The mammoth creature roared as the jaguar tried to drag itself across the sand.

I gaped as it dropped onto all fours and stalked forward, jaws cracking together.

“Holy shit,” Lana coughed, sidling up beside me, eyes heavy with exhaustion, one hand clamped over her bleeding shoulder. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Speechless, all I could do was stare as it chuffed irritably. The jaguar scrambled uselessly across the sand—Jason’s leg had to be broken. But the bear was moving, rocking back onto its hind legs, one massive arm lifting.

“No!”

“Jason!” Lana screamed beside me. We split without a damn word, flanking the beast.