Chapter 16: Approaching Sinclair

Ella

Returning to the palace, I went straight upstairs to the office Sinclair had been using as his war room. His mansion back home also had a war room, but that one was for the campaign; this one was far more literal.

Entering the tense space, I found my mate standing over a large diorama of the continent—a to-scale model of our homeland's territories, terrain, and cities. Tiny figures, representing armies, civilians, rogues, and refugees, were scattered throughout the lifelike reproduction. A group of warriors surrounded the table, listening as Hugo delivered the evening's briefing.

“Our spies report that, despite their alliances during the campaign, Damon's armies have turned against rogue forces in the neutral territories,” Hugo explained. “His conquest of the united packs is complete enough that he's turning his attention to other threats, and he's not hesitating.”

“Any resistance within the packs has gone underground due to his severe crackdown, and more and more shifters are attempting to escape,” Hugo continued. “These are mostly those who fear the Prince due to their politics or status, but others flee simply because they've lost their homes and loved ones. People recognize that any future under Damon's rule will be bleak, so they're leaving.”

“I can’t believe he’s accomplished so much in so little time,” one of the warriors remarked. I recognized him as Sinclair’s third, now that Gabriel was gone, but couldn’t recall his name. Philip? Phelan? Phineas?

“To your point, Philippe,” Sinclair said, “Damon has moved very quickly. He hasn’t just targeted the Alpha council and their betas; he’s eliminated elders in each pack, along with any wolves strong enough to challenge him. He’s eliminated all competition, creating a power vacuum everywhere but on the throne. It’s nothing new in terms of authoritarianism, but it’s damned effective.”

“Do we know if any elders survived?” Sinclair asked, his handsome face twisted in a grimace.

“If they have, they’re in hiding or attempting to escape,” Hugo replied, sighing. “Essentially, anyone who might have helped us has gone silent out of fear of detection—and rightly so.”

“So, basically, we’re on our own,” Sinclair assessed gravely. “Even if we can forge alliances in Vanara, we’ll likely be going in blind when we return home.”

A pang of sympathy for my mate—apparently sent through the bond—caused Sinclair’s head to jerk toward the door, his eyes searching. He hadn't realized we'd entered, and I tried not to feel hurt. How could I blame him for being preoccupied?

Hiding from me, trouble? His voice sounded in my head. I understood his suspicion: I was standing behind Roger and Gabriel, completely hidden from view. A fan directly across from us blew our scents down the hall, preventing them from reaching him. Of course not, I replied, wishing I could be in his arms. We just got back.

Any doubt about my place in Sinclair’s priorities vanished when the meeting paused for our exchange. His fierce gaze ordered the men to move, allowing me to pass. I slipped between them, blushing under the scrutiny of so many wolfish eyes, melting into Sinclair’s side as he tucked me under his arm. I immediately felt calmer, enveloped by his warmth and muscular embrace.

Only after Sinclair kissed me senseless did the meeting resume. I was surprised he allowed me to attend such a stressful briefing, but also grateful. I needed to know what was happening for my own peace of mind and to support my mate. It was right that I be here.

The details weighed heavily on me, but soon Sinclair was leading me back to our suite. I could barely hold my tongue until we were alone. I had so much to tell him about my visit with the refugees, and I couldn't wait to take him back to the camp.

My mate, however, seemed uninterested in talking. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me with an urgency that frightened and delighted me. Goddess, I missed you, today, he admitted in my thoughts. My wolf was furious that I let you go into the city without me.

Hmm, just think how furious he’d be if you gallivanted around Vanara and left me here alone, I replied saucily, nipping his lower lip.

Sinclair growled, delving his tongue between my lips, gripping my hips and pressing me against him, letting me feel his need through physical exertion and our bond. Careful, little wolf, he warned. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to manipulate me. I arched into him, my blood heating as he kissed me repeatedly.

I would never dream of it, I answered, earning an indulgent chuckle.

Impudent mate. A short time ago, I'd planned on convincing Sinclair to visit the refugees before napping; now, those things were furthest from my mind. All I could think about was joining with my mate, becoming one, and disappearing into the rapture of his claim.

Sinclair was always a fierce lover, but today he seemed particularly on edge. Whether it was the meeting or my provocation, he clearly needed this more than I did. He stripped off my clothes in our room's entrance, lifted me into his arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and pressed my bare back against the door. He remained fully clothed, but when I reached for his shirt buttons, he grumbled, and I instinctively retreated.

There was no foreplay, no teasing. Sinclair simply slipped his hand between my legs to ensure I was ready, then freed his cock and drove himself deep. He took me without restraint, fisting my hair as he withdrew and slammed back into me repeatedly.

His feral need was contagious. Soon, I was as wild as he was, rocking my hips to meet him as he closed his teeth on my mark. I cried out as he bit me, cresting a wave of pleasure. When he spilled inside me, I uncontrollably clenched around him.

In the aftermath, I tasted my own blood on his tongue, finding it strangely erotic. Breathing heavily, Sinclair pulled me from the wall and carried me to our nest, dropping tender kisses on my hair. “Sorry about that, trouble. I think I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said with a sated smile. “I love it when you get carried away.”

“Do you now?” he purred, stroking my hair as he lay back. Only then did I unbutton his shirt, pressing my nose to his chest to breathe in his scent. “It makes me feel very powerful… knowing I can make my mate lose control.”

“Only you, Ella,” Sinclair professed, his love blazing through our bond. “You're the only one who can do this to me.”

Flushing with pride, I nibbled his pec.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked drowsily. He hadn’t spoken or let me feel his stress, but it was obvious he was struggling. Between the briefing and my absence, was it any wonder?

“Much,” he assured me, purring as he rubbed my back. He sensed my readiness for a nap, but I wouldn’t be deterred.

“You have to come meet the refugees with me tomorrow,” I said. “I’ve decided I’m going every day, and I think it would be good for you to see them, too.” To my surprise, Sinclair stiffened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I lifted my head. “Why not?” Sinclair frowned, petting me but avoiding my gaze. “I just don’t,” he answered distantly.

“Dominic, talk to me,” I begged. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“Because,” he closed his eyes, and I sensed his annoyance, his frustration at my persistence. I didn't care; this stubborn man needed a push. “Because it’s my fault they’re even here. The Prince didn’t start this war… I did.”