Page 106 of The Guardian's Curse

“We’ll send someone for them tomorrow, then,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard. Have you tried your best to complete this work otherwise?”

She nodded. She hated him, but she desperately wanted his approval.

“Good girl,” he said. “I forgive you.” The relief that washed over her was sickening.

The deep male voice that had greeted him spoke up. Nordan, if she remembered correctly. “Sir, may I offer a word of caution.”

“You may offer it,” Elliott responded.

“You have given the humans quite a lot of blood since yesterday. The scent of it is quite strong,” he said. “Too much will damage their minds.”

“They’re strong,” Elliott snapped. “And I need them cooperative.”

“I understand, sir,” Nordan said. His placating tone reminded Shoshanna of when she had to talk down an angry customer at Average Joe’s. She hoped he wasn’t going to lose his head, too. “But if you want witches who can use their power on your behalf and not mindless bloodbags, tread carefully.”

“Duly noted,” Elliott said. “Is the security team ready with new orders for this evening?”

“Yes, sir,” Nordan replied. “I politely request that you to allow me to appear in your place tonight.”

Elliott’s voice rose. “Do you think me weak? Is it wise to insult your new Baron?”

The other man cleared his throat. “No, sir. But the Casteron tradition of trial by combat is rarely used anymore. It is likely that this will be a rocky transition, and you may have other challengers who wish to take advantage of you being new to the throne. Baron Cristiano faced several challengers in his first year of leadership, and he was generally favored to take the throne over his predecessor.”

There was a long silence. “What is your implication?”

“I imply nothing, sir,” Nordan said mildly. “Simply that as your steward, I am concerned for your safety.”

“Your concern is noted,” Elliot said. “Let them come.”

* * *

Despite Elliott’s cocky dismissal of his steward’s warning, he revealed his fear when he came to fetch Shoshanna and Ruby from their shared bedroom upstairs. At Victoria’s order, they’d dressed in red for the night’s events.

Clearly dissatisfied with her sartorial choices, Victoria had chosen a criminally short red dress for Shoshanna. When he arrived at the door of their suite, his red eyes drifted over her. She stiffened as he leaned in and kissed her cheeks. “Since you were unable to complete my protections, I will trust you to defend me as you did yesterday.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” she protested. “Please.”

He squeezed her wrist tight and brought her close. His red eyes gleamed as he glared down at her. “You will do exactly as you’re told.”

“What are you trying to accomplish?” she asked quietly. “Are you just going to keep me enthralled forever?”

His brow furrowed. “I want you to be my queen. We were so good together before.”

“We were kids,” she said. “People change.”

“That they do. Now I am the king of Atlanta, and you could be my queen,” he said. He slid one hand down to her hip, his thumb stroking lightly over her stomach. “I can give you anything you want. Everything you need.”

Dread prickled down her spine. “But I don’t want that.”

His grip tightened until little darts of pain shot from his fingers. “You don’t mean that. Eventually, you’ll come around. And until then, you’ll do as you’re told,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin, reminding her of Alistair’s bite. She hated the instant hunger that awakened in her. Elliott growled in her ear, “Now, finish getting ready.”

An hour later, they descended the stairs with Elliott. As far as she could tell, the gated mansion was essentially the Casteron Baron’s castle. Ruby had noticed the rolling hills of a golf course beyond the gates, making them think they might be in one of Atlanta’s ritzier neighborhoods.

The music and noise of the gathered court was disorienting. Hazy red illuminated the elevated throne across the large gathering space. Voices chattered all around them in a dozen languages, and though Elliott was the source of her worst fear, she gripped his arm tighter.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “No one will touch you.”

Her throat was dry as he rose to the throne, holding her hand as she settled onto a cushioned stool next to him. Someone approached and offered Elliott a glass. After he took it, someone pressed a glass into her hand.

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