Page 167 of The Harbinger

I bit my lip and squeezed his wrist tight, keeping my heavy breaths to myself, leaving his conversation uninterrupted until she raised her voice.

My head jerked in her direction, and my lips pursed tightly shut. Her voice dripped with unmistakable disdain as she pointed an accusatory finger in my direction. She spoke in hushed tones as if she was determined to keep their conversation a secret from prying ears.

Sacha moved away from me, his presence suddenly withdrawing and leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. He now stood mere inches away from Catherine, his fists balled up so tightly that his knuckles turned an eerie shade of white. The muscles in his jaw twitched as his expression morphed from playful to enraged in the blink of an eye.

What could she have possibly said to provoke such an explosive reaction from him? My mind raced with questions as I watched her lower her gaze to the floor. Her once-powerful posture now transformed into one of submission and acquiescence. Her hands clasped together tightly in front of her lap as she nodded in deference. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Catherine spun around on her heel and shot me a withering glare before darting off like a mouse fleeing a predator. And that’s exactly what Sacha was, a natural-born predator who commanded respect and never tolerated dissent.

Sacha turned back to me, his hand swiping down his jaw as if trying to erase the anger that still lingered there. I held my hand out to him, and he took it, pulling me towards him and pressing me back against the wall with a fierce intensity. It was as if Catherine’s intrusion had never happened, as if nothing else existed except for the two of us and the primal desire that burned between us.

“What was that about?”

Sacha cupped my cheek, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice low and reassuring as he pulled me closer, pressing my ear against the rapid thumping of his heart. “It’s not worth repeating.”

A moment passed, my fists tight in his shirt as if I let go, he’d be gone once again. But he pulled away, then kissed me. Our lips pressed tight, tongues writhing against one another with need.

“I have things to take care of, but I need you to stay in your room. You can wait in mine if you’d prefer. When it’s over, I’ll come up.”

I looked up and nodded my resolve hardening. “I’ll stay in my room. Yours is a little too...intense for me.” A nervous chuckle bubbled in my chest. “But I expect answers tomorrow, Sacha. All of this is starting to wear on me. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Deal.” He pressed his lips to my cheeks, allowing them to linger for a moment longer. “Go upstairs, and I’ll have Katya bring you food.”

Sacha turned away from me, his eyes flicking to the painting above my head. A sly smile crossed his lips for a moment, but it quickly vanished as he shook his head and started to walk away.

My curiosity piqued, I followed his gaze up to the portrait. The moment my eyes locked onto the woman’s eyes, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The resemblance was uncanny. She had the same sharp nose, high cheekbones, and dark, menacing eyes.

A chill ran down my spine. The woman in the portrait was the same one lying in the coffin, lifeless and still.

Shewas his mother.

Chapter 41

Sacha

Whisperscorrugatedaroundme,their words carrying on the chilled breeze like secrets. Their eyes heated my skin as they watched and waited.

Catherine stepped up from behind me and stood at my side, and for a moment, I pictured what it would be like if it were Mia. “Your papa is here.”

“He should have been here hours ago,” I ground out.

The funeral had long since been over, and I was left to speak on his behalf about a woman I despised to a group of elite followers who turned their forced smiles my way with fake flattery to gain favor.

“He is our High Priest. Show some respect, Elder.”

I turned to her. My robes blowing in the breeze, doing little to protect me from the chill. “Like you did earlier, my devout believer?”

A trickle of fire raced through my blood, curling my fist.

“She’s distracting you. You haven’t given a blessing in weeks, and she’s running rampant around this house.”

I sucked in air through my nose, taking in the rich aroma of pine. “You’re meddling in the affairs of an Elder. Your place is not by my side or over my shoulder.”

“I’ve watched after you since you were a babe. I’m only trying to protect you and, in doing so, protecting our community. You aren’t present with us anymore. She has you—”

“Enough,” I hissed through my clenched teeth, my fist tightening at my side.

Nikolai Makarov walked toward me, his ceremonial robes wrapping around his legs as he moved. He nodded as he came to stand in front of me. “Elder.”

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