Page 107 of Of Wind and Terror

My father’s office is spacious, with a mahogany desk, four armchairs, a roaring fireplace, and a mantel full of nicknacks. A rug made out of the fur of some unknown monster rests directly before the hearth, the white a startling contrast to the rustic tones of the room. Bookshelves line the wall opposite the fireplace, each one holding every type of genre in existence. He may not look like it, but my father is an avid reader, always striving to learn something new.

An eternity of monotony will do that to you.

I shift on the chair, and the wood squeaks ominously. Suffice to say, this furniture wasn’t meant to hold males as large as me and my father.

“I’m just going to come right out and ask this.” Father steeples his fingers together and leans forward. The movement causes his dark-red robe to pull taut against his shoulders and biceps. “Do you plan to kill the little prince and the elf? I’ll support you, my son, but we need to have precautions in place?—”

“No.” I scowl at nothing in particular. “I don’t plan on killing them.”

Surprise dances across my father’s features. Most fae wouldn’t be able to tell, but I’ve been around this male for centuries. I know everything there is to know about him.

He doesn’t understand why I don’t want to kill Treyton and Aleksander, and to be completely honest, I don’t blame him. I once would’ve run my sword straight through their chests without a tick of hesitation, especially after learning what Treyton did. Even now, a cold chill skates its way down my spine, and something angry and bitter unfurls in my chest.

Yet killing them will hurt my little beast. That is unacceptable. I would sooner cut off my own hands than do anything to harm a hair on her head.

I despise the fact that she’s their mate as well, but there’s nothing I can do about it besides show her that I’m the better choice. That I’ve changed. That I can be worthy of her love.

I want her to choose me, and I want it to be because she burns for me as much as I do for her. I want it to be because her heart yearns for me when I’m not in the room and she misses me when I’m away. I want it to be because my face plagues her dreams and she wakes up wet and needy, my name a desperate plea on her lips.

I don’t want it to be because she has no other options.

But how can I explain all that to my father? He wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t even understand. For some Gaiadamn reason, the universe decided to be cheeky and offer me a big, fat middle finger. Why else would Gaia gift me a mate who’s also mated to my enemies?

“I have plans for Aleksander and Treyton,” I tell my father at last, focusing back on my empty glass.

I suddenly wish I didn’t drain it so quickly. I need the burn of alcohol to make it through this conversation.

“Plans,” my father repeats.

His eyes narrow nearly imperceptibly in a way that makes me feel as if I’m on display.

“Plans.” I place my empty glass on the edge of his desk and move to stand. “If you’ll excuse me?—”

“Going to see your pretty little mate?” My father’s tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of something that causes me to freeze. Tense. Slowly turn towards him. His own focus remains on his desk, which is cluttered with papers and books. “I like her. She’s quiet, though.”

I simply grunt in response.

My father insisted on giving Kassandra a brief tour of our castle before asking to meet with me alone. My father babbled on and on about the history of our kingdom. Told her that over a thousand years ago, a warrior and his son overthrew the ruling family after they disagreed with some policies that had been implemented.

I wonder if Kassandra put the pieces together and understood the truth of who the warrior and his son were.

If she figured out it was me and my father.

I’m desperate to return to her now and finally confess the truth of who I am. What happened to me. I know she’s protected—I put a dozen of my most trusted guards outside her room—but I need to see her with my own two eyes.

Hold her.

Kiss her.

Love her.

“I never would’ve expected you, of all fae, to get a mate. Certainly not one as soft and delicate as little Kassandra.” My father chuckles as if he just told the most hilarious joke, while my expression remains grim.

After a moment, my father gets himself under control and asks the question I can tell has been nagging at him for a while now. “I suppose you’re no longer willing to marry Serena? I don’t blame you. Once you find your mate…” He gives a wistful sigh before focusing back on me. “What do you plan to do with her? With your mate?”

Tension thrums through my body.

Is that a…threat?

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