Tara can't look me in the eye now. "Not like at the festival. It's a real whip, and it really, really hurts. I felt so bad for Josh because he kept saying 'sorry' after every lash."
"No way." I push myself up from the bed and bolt across the room, as if I can escape the ceremony by getting further from my sister's description of it.
"Do you want me to keep talking, or have you heard enough?" Tara asks, genuine concern behind her words.
I don't want to hear anymore, but not knowing will only make whatever I imagine after worse than it probably actually is. "Fine."
She hesitates, but continues when I shoot her an icy glare. "After the whipping, he transforms and the two of you…mate."
"While he's a werewolf?" Maybe I've been around humans too long, but that sounds so disgusting to me. Plus, everyone else in there is doing it, too? "Do the acolytes like, watch or something? This is so gross!"
"Nobody watches. That I know of," she quickly revises. "But trust me, it's not as mortifying as it sounds. You really get swept up in the ceremony. You feel like you're a part of something. And when it starts… you want to be a part of it."
"They probably didn't anoint you. They just smeared drugs into your skin or something," I mutter as I pace in front of my window.
"Oh, stop. You wanted to know what it was like, and I told you," she reminds me. "But yeah, you do feel drugged, I guess."
"Great." I throw my hands up. "And then what? He carries you over the threshold of your new house and you get to the live the housewife dream? Stay home, raise the kids, do whatever the head of the household tells you because that's the way it's always done? Yeah, I'm going to pass on becoming a zombie in an apron."
"Thanks for letting me know what you think of my life." Tara gets up and goes to the door, and I immediately feel bad for offending her. Before I can say anything, she pauses to say, "You were a lot nicer before you left, you know that, right?"
My mouth falls open. "When I unquestioningly accepted everything we were told by the pack?"
"Oh, please!" She makes a wordless shout of exasperation. "If you ever, even once in your life, unquestioningly accepted everything we were told by the pack, you wouldn't have gone looking for the stupid Right of Accord in the first place!"
"I didn't go looking for it! I didn't know it existed!"
"That's bullshit! You were looking for a loophole and you found one. And now, you don't like that you can't have it both ways. You're furious that you can't just pick and choose what parts of pack law you want to follow." Her sneer of disgust cuts me deep. "If you don't want to be a part of the pack, fine. But don't pretend like you're better than the rest of us. Don't pass judgment on us because we know who we are."
She storms out and I let her go, because in my anger at the situation I'll say something she doesn't deserve. But once she's gone, there's nothing stopping me from imagining all those things she's told me, all those horrible things Ashton is going to do to me. The idea of sleeping with him was bad enough, but letting him whip me and fuck me while I'm tied up in some dank cell is beyond twisted.
But it might not be Ashton.
Maybe it shouldn't change my feeling on the ceremony, overall, but if I replace Ashton with Nathan in my mind, it does. No drugging required.
I was unfair to my sister. It's not like staying at home and being a mother is a bad thing. I just hate that it's not a choice, but an expectation. Tara didn't make our world, she's just a part of it the way all of us are.
I can't do this. I can't be that person for Ashton.
I grab my keys and shoes and run downstairs and out a service door before anyone can see me. There's only one person who can strike down this mating pact, and I need an answer from him tonight.
I have no idea what I'm doing as I race to Aconitum Hall. I don't know if Nathan will be there or if I can even see him. But he's the king; it's not like I have his private cell phone number or anything.
Then maybe you shouldn't be driving over to his house unannounced. My rational mind has a point, but my panic brain overrides it. I'm not rushing over to his house to declare my love or beg him to be my boyfriend. He's the pack leader, I'm his subject, and I need help.
There's a gatehouse at the main entrance, staffed by a thrall who looks up from her book with a suspicious expression as I pull up. She reaches to her hip to flick the safety off the gun in her holster before she opens the window.
Outside of hunting, I've never seen an actual gun in person before. That makes me wish I had thought my actions through a little more before tearing over here.
"Name and purpose of visit." Her voice doesn't go up at the end at all. It's not a question, but a warning that I shouldn't be here without a damn good reason.
"Um, Bailey Dixon. For Nath—for His Majesty the King. On personal business." I wince. When I left the house, I was so confident that I could just show up and speak to Nathan. I didn't really count on hardcore security, but he is a king.
"Do you have an appointment." Same flat delivery, like it's not a question.
"No." I have a strong feeling I'm not getting in, but before the disappointment can wound me too deeply, something else takes over. That strange vibration that fills the air when Nathan and I are near each other. It's like I can feel him, which is absurd. He's in a frickin' castle surrounded by security. He probably wouldn't know if I was two rooms over in his palatial mansion.
"His Majesty the king—" The guard's beleaguered denial is interrupted by a tuneless series of chimes. She looks away from me, toward the phone on the desk, and doesn't take her eyes off me as she answers. She does close the window, but I can still read a few words on her lips. "Bailey" and "no appointment," are the two easiest to decipher, and I worry that someone is sending down reinforcements. Instead, she hangs up the phone, opens the window, and says, "go ahead," as the massive black gates slowly part.
The sudden reversal of the situation is unnerving. So is the fact that as I pull up the drive, to where I parked last time, that weird magnetic feeling just increases. Once again, he's at the door before I can even reach the steps to it. And just like before, I practically melt into a puddle at the sight of him.
It's obviously his night off from being the pack leader; he's wearing black silk pajama bottoms and a black wool robe.
I stop at the bottom of the steps and try to make a joke. "It looks like I'm overdressed again."
"You're dressed," he says, gesturing down at his pajamas. "It's not terribly difficult to outdo me at the moment. I try to have clothes on when I have company, but I wasn't expecting visitors."
He doesn't seem to be annoyed at my intrusion, but I'm still nervous. I don't know what to say, so I stand there and look up at him, crushed by the weight of the compelling force between us.
With a tender frown, he comes down to meet me. "Bailey…did something happen?"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just shown up. I didn't mean—" I turn away, planning to get into my car and, I don't know. Drive away, abandon my life, and replay this mortifying moment over and over every night before I fall asleep, forever.
"Wait." It's a command, not a request. I turn back slowly to face him, my pulse like thunder shaking my whole body. He comes down to meet me; even barefoot, he towers over me. "You came here for a reason, and you're here now. Come inside. Please."
I nod, speechless in my despair. What am I supposed to tell him? That I came here unannounced to beg him for help? It seemed like a good plan at the time but now I just feel like a fool. I'm not even officially a member of the pack yet. Not until my transformation.
"All right," is all Nathan says as he puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me into the house. His touch electrifies me, and I'm grateful my jeans and over-sized sweatshirt don't reveal my skin, because all of it is covered in goose bumps. He doesn't ask any questions as he leads me up the stairs to the private residence and into the sitting room from before.
I'm on the couch with a drink in my hand—vodka neat, he remembered—before he asks again, "Did something happen?"
"Something…" I blow out a breath. "Something stupid. No reason for me to bother you at home. You're the pack leader and—"
"I'm your future mate."
The pressure of our strange attraction swells in me and I nearly burst into tears. "Please, don't say that. Don't get my hopes up when it might not happen."
"It's going to happen," he states, so sure of himself it's maddening.
"You didn't even ask me if that's what I want," I lash out at him. At the only person who's actually interested in getting me out of my mating pact.