Ella

“Do we have to stay too long?” I ask Sinclair, snuggling up to him. We’ve just finished the wedding party, and it’s moving to the ballroom. The orchestra warms up in the distance, and the guests slowly drift outside the great hall, attracted by the promise of dancing.

“I think we have to stay until the opening dance, at least,” he retorts, kissing my forehead as his fingers trace circles on my thigh. “I may have hijacked this event, but it’s still part of the summit. Why?” he asks, sliding his wolfish eyes to my flushed face. “Is there anything you’d rather be doing, little wolf?”

I shoot him a grumpy look. “You know exactly what I want to do, Dominic.”

Sinclair adopts a look of confusion, which my wolf doesn’t believe for a second. “I’m sure not,” he lies—the rat! “Do you want to go for a run?”

The offer is surprisingly tempting. It’s been almost a week since I last let go of my she-wolf, and she carries the weight of my belly with far more grace than I do. I would give a lot for the freedom to run and play as easily as she does, and I have a feeling that the nostalgia will only increase with the course of the pregnancy. Still, I don’t let my companion distract me: “No. I have a very different activity in mind.”

“Well, you know all you have to do is ask, honey,” Sinclair states in a gravelly voice, which betrays his own desire. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

I fight a groan. He knows I can’t ask for these things in public; it’s hard enough to speak those words in the privacy of our bedroom. My cunning wolf wants to use his own dirty tricks against him—speaking their desires and leaving his own animal so angry that he will be forced to drag them along like a caveman. Unfortunately, my timid sensibilities and preoccupation with political optics prevail, so I can only nibble on my cake and pout while Sinclair murmurs promises in my ear. “Soon, my love,” he calms down, his hot breath vibrating over my skin. “I’m as eager to take you to bed as you are; we just have to be patient.”

Reluctantly, I allow Sinclair to lead me to the ballroom, where we receive the honor of the first dance—both as hosts of the gathering and as a newlywed couple. Sinclair spins me across the dance floor in his arms, and I avoid becoming dizzy by looking into his beautiful eyes.

I thought I’d want to give up after one dance, but once we’re moving, I remember how fun it is to spin this way, feeling lighter than air. Only when my feet start screaming in protest does my companion immobilize me with one of his burning looks that tell me he can see right through me. “Are those feet a problem?”

“It depends,” I ask, batting my eyelashes. “If I say they’re hurting, will you carry me to our room and rub them for me?”

“We’re almost there, baby,” he promises, taking me to the opulent seats at the front of the room. “Just one more toast, and then we can get away.”

He guides me to a chair and grabs a glass of champagne. Someone taps a knife against his glass, and a gradual silence falls over the room. “First of all, I have to thank everyone who helped plan tonight. A huge amount of work was required to organize this summit and this ball, even before I decided to make everyone’s job much harder by adding a mating ceremony to the mix. My lovely fiancée, Ella, was up day and night making sure everything was perfect, as were hundreds of planners, coordinators, florists, chefs, and Palace staff.” He raises his glass. “To my brother, my sister-in-law, and our friend Elizabeth—you were instrumental in making this night perfect and helping me surprise my companion, and I am extremely grateful to all of you.” He continues, seemingly afraid of leaving out a single person from his thank-you list.

Only after finishing his compliments does he turn his attention to the Summit delegations. “As some of you may know, we were extremely excited to reach a summit agreement last night. I am thrilled to announce that we will be forging an alliance with the bands of Vanaran in the war against Emperor Damon, and we are moving very quickly given the urgent situation. I cannot express the size of my respect and appreciation for all the delegations present here, as well as for their people across the continent—their support and loyalty is a gift we will never be able to repay, and I am proud to be with all of you.”

Bursts of excited murmurs ripple throughout the room, as many of the courtiers and refugees are learning this information for the first time. I look around at the crowd, watching as new hope and anticipation fill their faces. Sinclair is still talking, describing the challenges ahead and the importance of this fight for shifters and humans. I have to admit that he is very talented when it comes to inspirational speeches, and this is clear from the growing energy in the room. Still, it’s not until he mentions an impending deployment that I finally drag my attention away from the public.

“At this hour, next week, our forces will be gathered on the Royal Continent, ready to launch our offensive against the tyrant, together with the resistance forces already on the ground. It is my greatest hope that we can put an end to this devastating conflict as soon as possible, but I’m also hesitant to make promises about battle timelines. War is unpredictable and chaotic at best, and I prefer to set realistic expectations rather than making promises I can’t keep. However, you have my word that I will do everything in my power to bring this war to a swift and speedy end.”

The room begins to spin when Sinclair finishes. “Maybe I’m a fool, but somehow I didn’t expect him to leave Vanara so soon. I suppose I was so wrapped up in my plans to find my mother that I couldn’t calculate how a successful alliance would affect my companion’s movements. Therefore, it is an unwelcome shock to know that he is planning to return home to fight next week—though I seem to be the only one.”

After Sinclair finishes, Gabriel stands, starting a chain of toasts that seem to drag on for too long. By the time my mate finally gets back to my side, I’m struggling to stay calm. “Did I mention how awesome you look tonight?” my companion smiles, approaching my chair with outstretched hands.

I let him lift me up, but I can’t formulate an answer.

“Are you okay?” Sinclair asks gently, his large hand circling the back of my neck.

“Can we go up now?” I ask weakly. Sinclair is already moving, lifting me into his arms and carrying me away to the sound of a symphony of raucous applause. No one seems to notice that neither of us seems as thrilled as we should be.

“Talk to me, little wolf,” Sinclair murmurs as soon as we’re out of earshot of the ballroom.

“It’s nothing,” I gasp, quickly correcting myself when Sinclair growls in warning. “I mean, it’s… it’s my fault. I don’t… I don’t… I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Sinclair’s eyes close, remorse washing over his features. “I’m sorry, Ella. I should have talked to you about it directly. We just finalized the plans this afternoon. The return to the continent was an unwelcome reminder of the promises I made to myself when we left. I cannot, in good conscience, stay away now that we have the military support we needed. Besides, with you leaving to find your mother, there’s no reason for me to stay here longer.”

“So what happens when I find her and am ready to join you again? When is it time to have the baby?” I ask, feeling terribly uncertain.

Sinclair sighs, carrying me to our suite. “Can I order you something, dear?”

“Sure,” I agree, looking at his pretty face.

“I know you’re feeling anxious right now, and we can talk about it if you need to. But we started tonight on such an amazing note, and I don’t want to spoil it with conversations about war.” He pulls the hair away from my face. “I just want to celebrate and steal a few more hours without worrying about anything but us.”

I nod anxiously, tears streaming down my eyelashes as I lean into his warmth, circling my arms around his neck. “I’d like that… although I don’t know if it will take some effort to make me forget.”

“Challenge accepted,” Sinclair responds like a wolf, lowering his mouth to my neck. He pulls at the strap of my dress to reveal the swollen bite he inflicted at the altar. I wince at the burning, cold air, and Sinclair purrs in sympathy. “Poor thing. Is your mark sore?”

I nod pitifully. “You never claimed me without giving me an orgasm first.” I’m sorry. “It hurt a lot more than I expected.”

“Well, then,” Sinclair replies, his eyes sparkling as he takes me seriously. “Let’s see what I can do about that.”