Page 57 of Elven Throne

She didn’t know.

But now that it occurred to her, Rebecca was certain that when she finally chose to revealhertrue identity to him—not as Rebecca Knox but as Rebecca Bloodshadow, the Bloodshadow Heir, Agn’a Tha’ros’s greatest weapon lost for so long and now found, her people’s last hope—Maxwell probably wouldn’t like what he saw there, either.

How much that would change things between them, she couldn’t say.

It was too late to back out now. This pending conversation they’d finally agreed to havewouldhappen anyway. But now, the inherent dangers of it no longer applied solely to the growing risks she took in revealing her identity to anyone in this world.

Now, everything between her and Maxwell might change, once he knew.

And if he wasn’t as ready for it as he thought, it would absolutely change everything for the worse.

17

Rebeccahadn’tbeenthisconsistently furious for this uninterrupted length of time in so very long, and now, that rage ate at her until she could no longer think straight.

Not just rage, though. Unbidden visions pummeled her minute after minute.

Of laying waste to this entire compound of shifters. Taking them down with her Bloodshadow magic in seconds flat. Wiping those fake fucking smiles right off their faces.

Every time a child scowled in Maxwell’s direction or another adult shifter glanced Rebecca’s way with a poignant, achingly clear refusal to acknowledge Maxwell at all, her fury billowed up all over again.

During the last several hours, she’d hoped to check in with the rest of her task force, make sure everyone had what they needed. But just when she thought the coast was clear, one of her own operatives would visibly point her out to the shifters asking whatever question involved Shade’s Roth-Da’al, making it perfectly clear exactly who stood beside Maxwell at the edge of the back yard.

The shifters’ reactionary spurn toward him before going right back to pretending like everything was fine rooted her to the spot time and again.

She would stay right where she was, thank you very much. Beside Maxwell Hannigan. Glaring daggers through any individual who caught her attention while Shade’s so-calledhostsshowed the shifter beside her even less than the minimum respect.

They showed him nothing. He didn’t even exist.

If anyone had treatedherthis way, she would have found it offensive, and she would have been right. For some reason, though,watchingsuch passive mistreatment of Maxwell made it so much worse.

Because she understood how important this was to him—if not entirely the sacrifice he’d made to bring them here—and he deserved so much more.

Sheowedhim so much more than this.

After the second straight hour of witnessing so much disrespect—feeling the mortifying humiliation and shame radiating from him the entire time—the idea of leaving him here while she mingled like everyone else became an impossibility.

The longer this went on, the more convinced she was that leaving Maxwell on his own was the worst possible thing she could have done for him.

And that she might never see him again, otherwise.

Not an ounce of his pent-up turmoil, the regret and self-loathing and disgrace flowing from him into her in a constant stream of debilitating agony, let up even the slightest bit, until she just couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” she snarled, fully intending to abandon the log they’d migrated to at the side of the yard leap to her feet. What she might have done after that, she couldn’t have said.

But she stopped when she realized someone was already upon them.

The woman from the house, who’d stood beside the gray-haired man Rebecca could only assume was the pack’s Alpha.

With a warm smile, the woman stopped in front of the log, looking every bit the kind, warm, hospitably welcoming woman of the house and carrying a single paper plate of food in one hand.

Rebecca forced herself to stay seated on the log, glaring at the woman, her muscles taut and tensed, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

Any other time, she would have thought part of these reactions came to her from Maxwell through their connection. But right now, this defiant rage was all hers.

Apparently, he was incapable of it for himself.

“Rebecca Knox?” the woman asked, poignantly holding Rebecca’s gaze and looking nowhere else.

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