Page 65 of Angel's Conquest

It wasn’t just a future of a co-managed monarchy, as they had originally planned, but a future together. Really together.

And perhaps the most wonderful comprehension of all was that it had largely happened without her meddling. The thing she’d been most worried about, the thing that had driven her to sheer madness and kept her up at night, was just how deviant she’d have to become to give her people the chance at happiness they so deserved.

But Bronze had changed all that, and the relief was still so immense, she hadn’t yet managed to find the right words to describe it or thank him.

Or, perhaps even more significantly, share with him the other thoughts that lurked in her mind as she and her wolf reveled in his admiration.

Clara adjusted the wide headband that concealed the majority of her bare scalp and snuggled in closer to his side as they walked toward her father’s receiving room. “I hope it doesn’t disappear,” she whispered against his chest, adding her hope to his earlier assertion and already feeling the warmth that grew on her wrist every time she touched the soul bond mark.

They still had so much to discuss, so much to make sense of. And while her heart desperately wanted to leap to the finish line and her wolf was eager to commence with the more carnal celebratory activities, her head knew better.

Leave it to Clara to possess the only brain in existence that successfully managed to blend foolishness and sensibility.

She stifled a soft chuckle as her wolf wondered, strangely, what such a combination would smell like. Perhaps selling scented candles called foolish sensibility was in her future.

“First things first,” she announced to Bronze, who’d already stiffened his posture and shunned the carefree smile from his features.

He wore his weapons, as he was used to doing before coming to the lycan lands, though still well concealed at her request. The only difference was that he didn’t need them now.

His angel fire and all his celestial powers had been returned to him, and what a wonderful night of discovery that had been.

“Father,” Clara said in a chilly greeting as she and Bronze entered the receiving room.

True to fashion, the king stood in front of his desk, fists down, and a sour expression twisting the cruel lines of his face into something she had not seen before, but it still didn’t look entirely out of place. He had been reading something—a note—and whatever it said not only commanded his attention but his body language as well. Pascal and Broderick lingered silently in the corners of the room, but otherwise, the king’s usual entourage was absent.

“Thank you for meeting with us. I trust the western lycans have left.”

“They have.” The tone was harsher than she’d ever heard him use. For a moment, she was inclined to retreat into her familiar posturing, but then her wolf growled a low reminder in her mind and she paused.

No. You’ve earned the right to speak your piece. So has Bronze.

Clara stepped out of Bronze’s hold and strode forward. Right into the desk’s great shadow. “This does not have to be harder than it is. We only wish to speak civilly and establish a new chain of communication for the present monarchy. The union between Bronze and me is one our people will greatly benefit from, and it is my hope you will see that our people’s needs should be placed above the monarchy’s own. We have a responsibility to serve, and you have an opportunity to ensure your place in our new future. Bronze is next in the line of succession, per our current laws, and I will serve alongside him, but you are still the king and will be for as long?—”

“Damn right I’m the fucking king!” her father snarled at her. The outburst had her retreating a stunned step. “And if you think for one goddamn second, I’ll—” He froze. All the anger and volatility he was prepared to fling at Clara dissolved into a look of blank confusion.

Bronze threw Clara behind his back, and she could tell, from the warmth radiating off him, that he was banking his fire, calling it to be at the ready.

Oh, this was bad. This was not how she hoped this would play out. She made to step out from behind Bronze, who was so big and damned immovable, but the fangs poking free of her father’s upper lip stilled her steps.

The king sniffed the air, then dragged his nose between her and Bronze. He sniffed again. Slower. Deeper. As if drawing the entirety of the room’s air into his lungs.

Clara knew the moment her father scented the soul bond, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. It was in the twitch of his ear. Subtle but noticeable to those trained to look for it.

Oh no.

“You mated with him? It was bad enough you let a male of another species fuck you, but now you’ve actually bonded?”

This time, she managed to shoulder her way in front of Bronze, who still hovered close by but said nothing. “Who I spend my time with and who I choose to mate is none of your business anymore. Or have you forgotten the events of the last several days? I have won the right to live my life as I see fit. Bronze has fought to ensure that right remains so.”

The king spit in Bronze’s direction. Broderick flinched, his hand going to his weapon, but a warning flash in Pascal’s eyes told him to stand down.

Surprisingly, Bronze did nothing, which only angered the king even more.

“You stupid fucking girl! All you’ve won yourself is a tainted womb and people who would rather claw out their own eyes than serve whatever spawn you promise them. You’ve corrupted the bloodline of this great monarchy and everything I’ve worked for.” His eyes grew wild, crazed. His hands clenched into fists, then opened and clenched again, as if he had no control over the movements of his body.

She gasped in a ragged breath but couldn’t bring herself to retreat, frozen as she was to the French Aubusson rug. She’d never seen him like this. Angry, yes. Frustrated, of course. But this surpassed all of that, tumbling into a fit of pure rage she had no true experience with and no recourse to fight.

Her father had just . . . said those things to her. Had actually said, with words from his own heart, things no parent should ever say to their offspring. And he’d done so in front of an audience, including her new mate, even after she’d acquiesced to his public shaming in the final Betrothal Game.

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