Chapter 7 A Female Companion

• Raven
• “I’m sorry,” I said wryly, my fingers trembling around the contract. “You want me to pretend to be your… fianceé?”
• I have to be imagining this, I thought. Surely what Nathan and Dani did to me made me turn insane and I was in some kind of stupor back home. Not only had I washed up on the shore of the Lycan lands, but I had also discovered that I was fated to a Lycan prince who was already betrothed, and now this…
• It was a Werewolf’s worst nightmare.
• Finding one’s fated mate was supposed to be beautiful and romantic and result in a happily-ever-after. This didn’t feel like any of those things.
• Neil nodded and turned to the window, clasping his hands behind his back.
• “My fianceé was supposed to arrive two days ago, and yet I have not heard word from her,” he explained. “I believe she may have been… held up on the road here.”
• “So you’re looking for a replacement,” I bit out, and immediately regretted the harshness in my tone.
• The prince didn’t look at me, although I saw the stiffness in his shoulders. “It’s not like that,” he replied. “My father, the Lycan King, is turning sixty soon—which means that the succession battle will be held at his banquet. He will officially retire and my brothers and I are meant to battle for the crown.”
• “I hardly see what this has to do with me.”
• “Well maybe if you would let me finish,” Neil retorted, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “What I mean to say is that a Lycan prince cannot participate in the succession battle unless he has a female companion in attendance; a future queen.”
• As he spoke, the pieces began to click into place. I looked down at the contract, thinking deeply before I muttered, “Since your actual fianceé is missing, you need a woman to be by your side during the battle.”
• Neil nodded and glanced over his shoulder. “Who better to fill that role than my fated mate?” he quipped. Those last two words—fated mate—were laced with mockery.
• “People will notice,” I blurted out.
• He shook his head. “They will not. Serena is the youngest daughter of my father’s fourth cousin twice removed. She has never visited the castle and not even my father knows what she looks like.”
• “Okay,” I said slowly, “then… What if she shows up in the middle of this? Won’t she be angry?”
• “If she is anything like how she has seemed in our letters, then no,” Neil replied. “She will understand my reasons.”
• I couldn’t help but scoff. “She’d be okay with a filthy Werewolf pretending to be her?”
• Neil rolled his eyes. “She will understand my reasons,” he repeated simply. “I will send a message to her as soon as possible. Assuming she has only been held up on the road and nothing… worse… I’m sure she will receive it and aid us in our efforts.”
• “And what happens once this is over?” I asked, placing one hand on my hip. “Won’t people notice if a new woman comes and replaces me? What will happen to you?”
• As soon as I said those words, I regretted them. I shouldn’t care what happened—once he rejected me, our mate bond would be severed. We wouldn’t have to worry about our own health if the other died anymore.
• And yet…
• Pull yourself together, Raven.
• “We’ll claim that you were an imposter,” Neil replied without missing a beat. “We will fake your death, send you back to the Werewolf world, and Serena will take your place here. Everything will be as it should be.”
• I frowned deeply, considering. Faking my own death sounded like a risky plan, one that required a lot of trust in someone who I hardly knew anything about. And I’d heard plenty about the Lycans’ barbaric customs before.
• What if he still saw me as a threat once we severed our bond? What if he decided I knew too much and killed me for real?
• Or what if this was all a lie and he intended to kill me anyway, and was just using me in the meantime?
• “No,” I suddenly said, tossing the contract at Neil’s feet. “I won’t do it.”
• He quirked an eyebrow at the discarded piece of paper. “Why not? It’s a highly beneficial plan.”
• “I don’t know you, nor do I trust you,” I retorted. “You’ve repeatedly accused me of being a spy, kept me in a cell soaking wet for hours after I was in a traumatic helicopter crash, considered killing me at one point, made a mockery of me in front of your brother by talking about ‘climaxing’, and now you’re using me to help yourself get a crown. You’ve given me no reason to trust you whatsoever.”
• Neil’s face darkened. “I did those things because I had no choice. It’s not as if your people are particularly friendly toward mine—always trying to turn our sacred lands into a tourist destination. Sending spies to gather intelligence on us.”
• I rolled my eyes. “Maybe our government wants intelligence so we know if you’re planning to attack. You’re a bunch of warmongers. Always have been.”
• The prince let out a low growl and looked away, clenching his jaw tightly. “Perhaps we have no reason to trust one another,” he finally said, his voice low and controlled. “But neither of us wants to die, do we? And neither wants the other to die.”
• “Thanks only to our mate bond,” I said quietly. “But it won’t matter once it’s severed, will it? Either of us could kill the other with no consequences once that happens.”
• Neil scoffed. “You couldn’t kill me even if you tried, petal,” he growled, stooping to pick up the contract. He tossed it into the nearby brazier and brushed his hands together. “But I cannot disagree with that sentiment.”
• I folded my arms around my blanket. “Then it appears we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?”
• “Not necessarily.” Neil took a step forward and extended his wrist toward me. “We could make a blood pact. We will go through with the plan, and neither of us will harm the other—not during and not after. Would that be good enough for you?”
• My eyes widened. “A blood pact…”
• Blood pacts were nothing to scoff at. Some say that they are almost as powerful as mate bonds, binding those who bite one another to lifelong contracts.
• It was an ancient ritual that was highly frowned upon in Werewolf society—outright forbidden, in fact.
• But here…
• “Bite me, and I will not bring any harm to you during or after our arrangement,” Neil continued, still holding out his arm. “I bite you, and you will not only swear you will pretend to be my fianceé as I ask, but also that you will not tell a soul in the Werewolf world about your experience here.”
• I stared at his offered wrist, considering. If I went through with the bite, there was no going back. Not being able to tell anyone back home would be tricky, but… it also meant that I would be able to go home safely in the first place.
• He extended his wrist a little further, blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the torchlight. “It’s either this or both our heads on display,” he murmured, his voice nearly a whisper.
• He was right. And I’d rather take my chances than let that happen.
• “Alright,” I said, extending my own wrist. “Don’t bite too deeply, please.”
• Neil grabbed my wrist and raised it to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. “Just deep enough to draw blood.”
• Swallowing hard, I took his wrist—his tanned skin was so warm beneath my fingertips—and lifted it to my mouth. We locked eyes for a long moment, and I wondered if his heart was pounding as hard as mine was.
• “Count of three,” he whispered.
• I nodded.
• “One… Two… Three.”
• The second his blood hit my tongue, it felt like something deep and primal awakened within me. The pain of his bite seemed worlds away, my universe narrowing to nothing but that coppery tang and those blue eyes fixed on me.
• “I vow,” our voices echoed together in the void between us, swirling and dancing around one another like two stars come to life.
• An eternity could have passed during those moments when our lips were wrapped around one another’s wrists and I might not have cared if we withered away and died.
• But then reality came rushing back, and with it came the pain.
• I wrenched my wrist from Neil’s mouth and stumbled back, only to realize that he was holding me by the waist and that my blanket had been discarded once more. The fingers of his uninjured hand dug into my skin, hot like embers through the sheer fabric of my nightgown.
• “Your eyes are glowing,” I breathed, not caring if my blood dribbled down his chest as I pressed my palm into the center of that Lycan tattoo.
• A growl quaked his throat. “Yours are as well.”
• We stared at each other like that for several long moments, glowing eyes locked, chests heaving, blood dripping.
• And then our lips were on each other.