Ella
The rest of the evening passes without further drama, but as far as I’m concerned, the night has been a
wash. The procession through the city’s old quarter would have been magical at any other time– with
the traditions, music and palpable gaiety of all those around us. If I’d been able to focus on anything
other than my thoughts, I’m fairly certain I would have fallen in love with the occasion, but I wasn’t able
to give the events the attention they deserved.
I’m exhausted by the time we’re finally free to leave, thinking that I’ll certainly need an extra-long nap
tomorrow even as I climb into the back of the limo. I’m distracted and grumpy, and when Sinclair slides
into the car next to me, I vacate my seat, choosing the one facing him instead.
Sinclair arches a brow, but doesn’t move to stop me. “You’re angry with me.” He assesses simply,
eyeing my crossed arms and stiff shoulders.
“What was that all about, Dominic?” I inquire, trying not to get too carried away in my temper.
“What, with the Prince?” He clarifies, as if the answer isn’t completely obvious.
“How did he know I haven’t been marked?” I demand, “And how long have you been aware he knew?”
“You know it would be a lot easier to talk if you were over here.” Sinclair coaxes, patting the seat beside
him.
“I’m fine right here.” I insist. I know how Sinclair works – he gets me within arms reach and the next
thing I know I’m being soothed into complacency by his soothing caresses, cozy warmth and gentle
purrs. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him lull me into calming down. I have every right to be upset.
He sighs. “The prince came to speak with me last night at the bonfire. I don’t know how he found out
you haven’t been marked, but he made it clear he planned on using that information against us. So I
told him the same story we told Roger.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I clarify. “Why, because you didn’t find the right time? Or because you didn’t
plan on filling me in at all?”
“Ella –” Sinclair begins, giving me a beseeching look. I know then he wasn’t ever going to tell me,
though I shouldn’t be surprised. He had every opportunity to share this information with me – like when
he gave me the ring.
“Don’t,” I interject, “just don’t bother. I thought we agreed we would be a team from now on? I thought
we were supposed to be in this together?”
“Sweetheart we are,” He insists, looking as though it’s taking great restraint not to reach for me. “I just
didn’t think this was something you needed to worry about.”
“You didn’t think I should know that I might have to publicly defend our relationship?” I question sharply,
“that I might be asked questions about this? What if a reporter had asked me about the mark already
knowing your answer, our entire plan could have fallen to pieces because you didn’t inform me,
Dominic.”
“It has all happened very quickly, Ella.” Sinclair excuses, “I would have told you sooner or later, but I
miscalculated. I really wasn’t expecting the Prince to make an appearance tonight, let alone bring it up.
I thought he was smarter than that.”
“Do you know what I’m hearing here?” I bite. “You thought, you expected, you believed and you
calculated. You are making all the calls, all the decisions and I am sitting on the sidelines looking like
an idiot – Again!”
“I’m sorry.” Sinclair admits. “I told you this wouldn’t come easily for me. I’m trying, but I’m not used to
consulting anyone else on this sort of thing. Change doesn’t happen overnight.” He frowns. “That’s not
a copout, it’s just that my instincts are still to shield you rather than share the burden. I know that
probably seems very patronizing –”
“It doesn’t seem patronizing, it is patronizing.” I correct him.
“No.” He counters sternly. “Patronizing implies superiority. I don’t think I’m better than you Ella.”
“Of course you do!” I burst out. “You’re supernatural – the bias is in the name! I’m just a human and
next to shifters we’re primitive, tiny, weak and slow. And on top of all that you’re the wealthiest, most
powerful man in the pack. How could you not feel superior?”
Sinclair’s green eyes slice through me, and I have to work very hard to stay still. I feel as though I’m
about to receive a lecture, “Because none of those things have any inherent value beyond staying alive
and controlling the world around you. There’s no integrity in being fast or rich, and our society didn’t
earn any of it. It was handed to us by the Goddess. Yes, we’re more advanced, but not due to our own
virtue.” Sinclair continues, still pinning me with his intense stare. “But you, you had to earn everything
all on your own. You started from nothing and used your brains and ingenuity to succeed, you had the
mental strength to overcome all the trials you faced, and you came out of all that with the purest heart
I’ve ever seen.”
I don’t think anyone has ever complimented me this way. Cora might, but she’s as good as my sister –
she has to love me. But I’m certain no other man has ever praised me for such things – or mentioned
my positive attributes beyond my beauty. This isn’t even the first time Sinclair has made this kind of
speech, making me feel valued for the person I am rather than the good looks I lucked into. I feel as
though he truly sees me – and I’ll be damned if that isn’t terrifying.
“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.” I admit shyly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckles, the sound filling me with warmth. “You’re a far better person than I am, Ella – and you’re
going to have to get used to compliments because I have no intention of letting you continue to
undervalue yourself.”
“If you think these things, why do you keep trying to shield me then?” I inquire, much more docile now.
Sinclair’s dark brow furrows. “It’s because I think those things.” He explains intently. “I don’t want you to
have to struggle and worry. You don’t deserve more hardship. And it’s in my nature besides. I’m
dominant – as a man and an Alpha. What you perceive as condescending are the power dynamics that
govern all shifters. Dominance is everything to wolves and it makes it my responsibility to protect those
less powerful. That’s a distinction you’ll have to come to terms with if you’re going to live among us.”
His words remind me of the Prince’s other accusations – calling me insolent and saying I need
discipline. A shiver works its way down my spine at the memory, and as curious as I am about that
particular part of the conversation, we have more to discuss before I can bring it up. Despite Sinclair’s
kind words, I’m still incredibly hurt. And I know it’s not the fact that Sinclair kept the information from me
which stings worst, it’s that he didn’t give me his ring because he wanted to – he pretended like we
were having some intimate moment when really it was just an act.
“Tell me about the mating ceremony.” I request. “As far as I understood, we made up that excuse
assuming it would be delayed indefinitely – but you just set a date. What do we do when that date
arrives?”
Sinclair’s mouth forms a hard line, the vein in his jaw twitching dangerously. “We’ll go through with it.
Though it will only be for show.”
“What about when your true mate arrives?” I counter. “This all seems very short sighted. How will you
explain it when you leave me? Are third chance mates as common as seconds?”
“The endgame is about making it through the campaign. Once I’m king and I have an heir, the identity
of my Luna is… redundant. It’s important that I have one, not who she is or how many I’ve had before.”
Well that’s a slap in the face. I think sadly. I’ve basically just been told that I’m a faceless symbol, and
while this is undoubtedly the deal I agreed to when we struck this agreement, it doesn’t take away the
ache of hearing I’m basically nothing to him.
“So everything you said to me when you gave me this ring was just bullshit?” I summarize, gesturing to
my left hand. “You didn’t make the gesture because you felt it or wanted to, but because of political
pressure?”
Sinclair’s eyes flash, and too late I realize I might have shown my hand. I don’t know why I’m so
bothered that he didn’t truly want to make things official with me. I might be attracted to Sinclair, I don’t
want anything more – so why is it so upsetting? Why is my stomach tied in so many knots? Why is it so
difficult to simply breathe?
Sinclair seems to be reading my mind, because in the next moment he inquires, “Why should that
matter, you already told me you don’t have any interest in something real with me, so shouldn’t you be
happy that it was fake?” His expression has gone truly deadly now, like a hunter closing in on the kill.
“Why do you care so much, Ella?”
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