Page 32 of Tortured Royals

My heart pounds, surprise filtering through me.

Prince Callan’s gold-flecked gaze connects with mine. “That is, if you will still allow me to accompany you, princess?” His words are tentative, and there’s a hopeful plea in his voice.

I hesitate. A part of me feels like telling him to stay here. From the moment I met him, the archangel has been cold and determined not to let his guard down. But I think of how he’d killed his sister. Of how he’d freed Nate. Since then, he’s been quiet, and that cold edge has been missing from his eyes, replaced with something else. I can’t tell if it’s grief or simply relief. Likely, it’s a mixture of both. The archangel is hurting, and as much as he’s an asshole, he’s still my mate. My gaze drops to those gold-brushed lips before lifting back to his face.

“You’re my mate,” I tell him simply. “We can’t bond without you.”

He nods once.

Prince Andal gives me a polite smile. “Then I suppose, until the next time we meet.” He dips his head to me and my mates, and he says a final farewell to Prince Callan before striding away.

When Prince Andal is gone, Prince Callan turns to Nate. The pair of them haven’t spoken since the arena, and the shifter’s slitted eyes narrow on the prince.

“There’s no point bothering with excuses,” Prince Callan says. “But I remember you having a particular fondness for this.”He digs into his robes and holds out the flask I’d seen Prince Andal give him. “I hope you may one day forgive me, bond brother.”

Nate takes the flask and unscrews the lid, lifting the opening to his nose. A lop-sided smile crawls onto his face, and he slams his hand onto Prince Callan’s shoulder. “Only you would bring me prison wine as an apology, brother.” The shifter laughs.

Prince Callan clears his throat. “That’s actually one of the finest wines in Toralyn. The grapes are grown in the vineyards on the floating hills in the north. A single bottle of wine costs a small fortune.”

Nate’s brows lift. “Well then, that explains why it doesn’t taste like piss. Apology accepted.”

I stare at the shifter, surprised that his forgiveness came that easily.

Nate shrugs. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been betrayed, nor is it the first time I’ve almost died. But it is the first time a prince has apologized to me.” Grinning, he takes a swig of his wine.

Prince Callan turns to me next, but he doesn’t have any gifts this time. Instead he kneels, bowing his head. “No apology could express my regret, but know that I will always fight to be worthy of you. You are my Ahalian Touizda, my mate, and it sickens me that I’ve already failed you. My blade is yours, Princess Blake, as am I.”

I squirm uneasily, because this isn’t the Prince Callan I’ve come to know. I don’t reply, because I have no idea how I’m supposed to answer to that. Not too long ago the prince had been cold and telling me to stay away from him, and now he’s claiming to be mine? My stomach clenches, as the fated mate connection sparks between us.

“Get up, prince,” Dante murmurs. “You’re making us all uncomfortable.”

Mason’s brows draw down. “His apology is admirable. Even if he has already proven himself to be a horrible mate.”

I scrub a hand over my face, because life with my mates continues to be complicated.

“Okay,” I tell my archangel mate awkwardly. “I…appreciate the thought. But can we go home now?”

Nate winks at Prince Callan, holding out his hand and helping the archangel up. I turn to Mason who passes me his portal ring.

“Yesss girl,”Shade squawks in my head.“Bring on the demon realm.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally home,”Shade squawks in my head as I breathe in deep, taking in the musky and smoky scents of Seral.

The forest is dark, stars littering the sky overhead.

“Where are we?” Nate asks. His shoulder brushes a nearby tree, and a dozen pairs of tiny eyes appear in the darkness. “What the fuck?” he stumbles back into me, and I steady him.

“Careful now,” I whisper in his ear. “Someone might think you were afraid.”

“Of them?” He points to the small furry creatures clinging to the tree trunk, and he squares his broad shoulders. “They’re lucky if they don’t become a snack.”

Like they’ve understood him, the little creatures bare their pointed teeth and hiss. The shifter curses, taking another step back.

“Right, a snack,” I tell him sarcastically. “Relax, they’re not going to hurt you. They just like the tree bark.”

“And this is where you live?” Mason asks, curiously observing the creatures.

“We’re in the forest that grows beside Seral City,” Dante explains, scrubbing the back of one of the creatures with his fingers until its warning hiss turns into a low purr.

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