Page 238 of Primal Bonds

“I am,” she said. “And you?”

A small frown creased Fane’s brow. “I’m good, thanks.”

He edged closer, and she edged back. His frown increased. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Arne turned to her.

“And you must be this Marjani I’m hearing so much about.”

“Yeah?” She eyed him warily.

“Meet my dad,” Fane said in a wry but affectionate tone. “Arne Morningstar, this is Marjani Savonett.”

“Peace to you and yours,” she said to Arne—and let out a squeak when he pulled her into a hug.

“Peace to you and yours.” He kissed both her cheeks and murmured, “I’m here to help.”

Their eyes met, and she nodded.

The five of them formed a circle. Roald was the only one not drinking nectar. Instead, he had his broad hand wrapped around a frosty mug of beer.

Lord Roald’s grandson. She looked from Fane to the fae warrior.

She’d assumed Fane was basically a hanger-on at the ice fae court, but he had a powerful, high-ranking grandfather. It explained a few things—like why he was still alive. Sindre might punish Fane—she’d seen that up close and personal—but even the king would think twice before killing the grandson of the captain of his guard.

And on top of that, his father, Arne, was clearly a favorite of the king.

The five of them made small talk. Arne managed to bring the tension down a few notches, joking and telling stories until even Roald unbent enough to chuckle. It was kind of surreal—she’d gone from a cage to a freaking cocktail party.

Except one of the men wanted to steal her freedom and another—Roald—barely managed to be polite to her.

Still, that left her two allies, if Arne could be trusted. She’d been in worse situations.

She sipped her nectar, enjoying the little charge the sparkling liquid gave her.

Sindre waved one of the ever-smiling elves over. “Try the salmon tartare,” he said. “It was caught just this morning and prepared with lime sauce.”

The tartare was mounded on a tiny cracker. The salmon’s fresh, raw scent made her cat salivate. She practically inhaled the first one, and the king urged her to have another as more fae arrived, decked out in designer clothes and expensive jewelry. The men ran their eyes over Marjani as if she were a T-bone for sale, and the women glanced knowingly from her to the king.

Marjani tightened her fingers around the goblet’s crystal stem, fighting the urge to bare her fangs at them.

A few feet away, Fane exchanged air kisses with a statuesque redhead in a tight black dress that barely covered her ass. “Viktorie. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”

“How kind of you to say so. And you, love?” The woman ran a possessive hand down his arm. “How have you been?”

Ha. And he says he doesn’t fit in.

Marjani clenched her teeth so hard it hurt.

Mine, hissed the cat. Mate.

No, she snapped back.

A tall blonde with skin a shade darker than Marjani’s ran practiced eyes over her dress. “I love that green. Is it a Favreau?”

She shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“She’s a fae designer,” the blonde explained, a little too helpfully. “French.”

“It is.” Sindre touched the small of Marjani’s back. “Specially made for my guest.”

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