Page 47 of Upon Shattered Bonds

But Nero was on his home turf. Backing down against another sovereign here would display a weakness that he’d never allow. Even though Nero was more levelheaded than any Raeth Nina had ever met, he was still subject to the same inflexible nature as the rest of them. Raeths were bred for war.

Nina knew this.

That’s why, in the space of the next second, her fingers were wrapped around her blade and her eyes were locked on Zeke’s. She trusted Nero, knowing he wouldn’t succumb to the same irrational behavior that her mate was inclined to at the moment.

Wisely, Isaiah and Caius had melted into the background, aware the battle of wills between the two sovereigns, left unchecked, could only end in bloodshed.

“Zeke, look at me.”

The man didn’t heed her request, refusing to disengage. Wrath pulsed like a battering ram through their ghosting mating bond, and Nina had to brace herself against it to remain standing.

Nero, affected as he was by the emotions of others, was spurred on by Zeke’s animosity. Given the volatility of the situation, even one as powerful as the Hawaiian sovereign couldn’t completely block it out.

“Zeke.” She tried once more, her tone placating and soft. “Nero didn’t mean anything by it. We are friends. We’re all friends here.”

She felt a shift behind her. A ripple of air signified Nero’s intention: he’d manifested his own weapon. Though Nina couldn’t fault him for it, it only added to the building tension in the man across from her.

They were a half a step away from a battle to the death.

Nina loosened her grip on the blade that continued pressing into Nero’s neck. In a single step, she’d pressed her body into Zeke’s, draping her arms around his neck, and hauled him down to capture his mouth.

A jolt shuddered through him as soon as she’d slanted her lips across his. She dissolved into the harsh planes of his body, reveling in the heat that sparked beneath her palms. Nothing and no one mattered but the man who’d softened under her claim, then immediately swathed her in the protective cocoon of his embrace only moments later.

Somewhere along the line, the blade he’d threatened at Nero’s neck had disappeared. All Nina could feel was the fervent way he crushed her to his body, the wild longing of the man against her lips. Her heart leapt in her chest, a twinge of pain accompanying the feeling, but it was lost in the thunderstorm of sensation.

What’d started as a way to distract him evolved into something far different. In less than ten seconds, Nina had completely forgotten their audience. She’d lost herself in the man who’d she’d refused to claim for eleven centuries.

A pointed cough was the only thing that brought Nina back to her senses. With difficulty, she reared back from Zeke, the faint brush of his breath tickling over her sensitized lips. As she watched, the wildness receded from his eyes.

It was replaced almost immediately with regret. Shoulders dropping, Zeke looked up and over her shoulder.

“My apologies, Nero.”

A brief pause.

“A mistake on my part.” Nero’s customary smile replaced his frown, but remained tight with tension. “For a mating Raeth, you’re quite controlled.”

Zeke didn’t respond, only huffing out a breath and rolling his shoulders. His fingers caught Nina’s wrist in the next second, bringing it up to study the thin line of blood that’d welled across her palm.

“You’re injured again,” he admonished lightly before meeting her eyes. “It seems every merjha within a mile radius of you finds your blood by instinct.”

“Kaien or Hemin can help when we get back.”

It didn’t seem to pacify him.

Isaiah sighed. “We need to plan for ever outcome. Let’s do what we came here for.”

Over the next hour, they deliberated on next steps, hashing out the intricacies of their treaty and making arrangements to stabilize their society if one or more of them died. The other sovereigns wouldn’t be able to protect Nina from challengers—that much was true—but they could play the odds.

They came to the same conclusion every time: if Nina died, war was inevitable.

***

Strumming her fingertips along the cool white wood of the windowsill, Nina appreciated the vibrant beauty of the oncoming sunrise. Ancient elm trees dotted the sparsely covered horizon, framed by brown paneled fencing.

A faint mist had settled over greening but empty pastures, the horses having not yet been released from their stalls. Through the silhouetted skyline, the muted yellow-orange sun barely peeked over the treetops.

There was a peace about Kentucky that’d always called to Nina’s spirit. Endless acres of fenced yards and the gentle roll of the well-grazed pastureland settled her. It was quiet there, living cordoned between wooden fences and surrounded by sway-backed broodmares and their lively foals.

---