Page 224 of My Fated Alpha: The Royals

It was almost as if his demon half had overtaken the soul that she had gifted him with, and he had lashed out with needless cruelty. And he had not been able to stop, not even when he saw the pain that haunted her dark eyes and he saw her skin turn from ivory to something horribly pale.

Something was fucking wrong with him, and whatever it was, it would either drive Rhapsody away...or force him to stay out of her life.

He waited until she had left for her classes before coming up to shower and change into a fresh pair of clothes. On his way out, he spied the gift on the dresser, and he breathed hard. He unwrapped it carefully, and when he saw what it was...

The Art of Being A Pervert

Mihail closed his eyes. It was just like Rhapsody to mean well by giving him such a gift, and goddammit, he could not -would not -give her up without a fucking fight.

Before leaving the school, he was unable to resist the urge to check on him, needing to see - but wihout being seen - that she was indeed where she was supposed to be, and that was safe and unharmed within the school's walls. Eventually, he found her in the greenhouse with Peyton. Her friend was busy tending to several pots of cacti while Rhapsody had gloves up to her elbows while checking on a garden bed of poison ivy. She looked paler than usual, and his agitation grew even as the sight made his heart clench.

Something was fucking wrong.

And he had to do something before it was too late.

The thirty-minute carriage ride to the Baron of Woodmere's townhouse was reduced into ten with Mihail riding his horse in neck-breaking speed. After leaving instructions to the stable boy to have his mount watered, he swiftly ascended the steps and within moments was being escorted to the breakfast room.

"The Marquis of Sangre," the butler intoned.

"Milord, welcome..." The three Orpheline sisters, despite their visible surprise, greeted him pleasantly.

"How the hell did you know I was here?" Ilie Marcovici, the Marquis of Lunare, on the other hand, did not sound as welcoming, but this was belied by the wicked gleam in his silver eyes.

"It's nice to see you, too."

It was Mihail's usual dry tone, Ilie observed with a frown,but at the same time, it wasn't.

Soleil, too, noticed the weariness that outlined Mihail's chiseled features.Something must have happened,she told her husband through their blood bond.

Aurora straightened in her seat when the Marquis of Sangre turned to look at her.Uh-oh.

"May I speak with you in private? It is about Lady Norwood."

Ilie glanced at his heartkeeper.I never told you, did I? And I suppose your sister would not do so either.

Soleil blinked.Tell me what?

Ilie nodded at his sister-in-law's direction.Mihail's heartkeeper is one of Aurora's patients.

When Mihail saw the Marchioness of Lunare suddenly looking at him with wide-eyed curiosity, he shot her husband a glare. "Stop gossiping about me behind my back."

"You are right," Ilie drawled. "These things are more interesting when discussed in the open."

The words had his marchioness coughing to disguise her laughter while Mihail cursed him fluidly in Daemoniu.

"I believe you already know this, milord," Aurora said apologetically, "but I cannot speak of anything that Lady Norwood—-"

"It is not that," Mihail interrupted grimly. "I wish instead to ask you about heartkeeping. My sister Maricha tells me that you have recently been helping her with her research."

Aurora's expression cleared. "That, I can most assuredly give assistance to."

"We can be of help as well," Ilie offered. "You know this is true," he said innocently when he saw Mihail's scowl. "Soleil and I are still discovering new things about heartkeeping even now."

And so it was how Mihail ended up reluctantly recounting last night's events to two ladies and a gentleman, and of course just when he had reached the halfway point, Lady Fleur, the youngest of the Trois Belles Lames, arrived, and at the lady's insistence, Mihail found himself back at the beginning. This time, he made it as far as three-fourths of his story when it was the baron himself who walked in, and of course out of respect, Mihail recounted - hopefully for the last time - what recently transpired between him and his pet.

By the very end, Ilie, seeing that a muscle was already angrily ticking at Mihail's jaw, decided against his original intention to ask his friend to repeat the whole thing one last time.

He glanced at his heartkeeper instead, about to ask her thoughts through the blood bond—-

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