Page 27 of Possess Me at Midnight
She strokes my face, her eyes filling with tears. Like she’s going to a funeral. No doubt mine. Fuck!
“Why?” she sobs.
“Why Call to you? Instinct,” I growl out the truth. “You know wizards sense their mates in a single taste.”
And I crave another taste right now—deeper, more intimate. Everything she’ll give me. The need to consume her claws at me. I try to ignore it. In the part of my brain still running the show, I need to hear her reply before this goes further.
Her gaze skitters away. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t know the Binding words?” Is that even possible?
Or…does she not feel what’s blazing between us?
“I-I know them,” she whispers. “But saying them… Witches aren’t blessed with the instinct. We must choose with our hearts and minds. You and I… We’ve barely spent an hour together that wasn’t shadowed by my brother or consumed with matters of survival. How can I know…”
Everything inside me softens like melted butter. She isn’t saying no precisely; she’s overwrought. Confused. She needs time. Bram is her priority, and as much as that fact chafes me, rightfully so. The past handful of hours has been harrowing. Pushing her isn’t productive, and though I crave her reply, maybe waiting would persuade her to Bind to me.
“Sabelle. My princess…” Pure reverence wells straight from my chest, resonates in my tone. I hope she hears and feels my sincerity. From tonight on, no one will ever be more important to me.
She sobs at my words, staring at me in pained confusion. That expression tears at me.
“Shh.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve spoken the Call. You know I could never hurt you and will always put you above me. If you need time to know me?—”
“I do, but…” Her blue eyes turn bleak. “Even if you were my best friend and lover combined, my brother would never give his blessing.”
“Do you need it?” I tuck a golden curl behind her ear and caress her cheek. “You’re a grown witch, able to make your own decisions. Bram may not be thrilled. I’m not keen on having the backstabbing bastard as a brother-by-mating, but?—”
“Stop! The bad blood between you and Bram isn’t the only issue. He’s made me promise not to take a mate without his blessing. I won’t break that vow.”
I stare at her in puzzled shock. “You’re fully transitioned. An adult. Certainly you’re not going to let your brother make your decisions for you. What do you want?”
“Not to alienate my brother. Next month, I’ll only be eighty-five…”
So young? I wince. I’m nearly two hundred fifty. Yet another obstacle. “That makes you young but not stupid. Are you saying that, even if you fell in love with me, you would never speak the Binding and take me as your mate?”
“You want a conclusive answer…and my situation isn’t that simple.” Her voice breaks. Tears glitter in her eyes.
I force myself to take my hands off her and step back, though every cell in my body screams at the separation. “It’s a yes-or-no question, princess.”
“You don’t understand.” She wraps her arms around herself as if trying to hold something together that’s breaking apart. “My brother, everyone I know, my entire world… Matings aren’t choices—they’re alliances, carefully arranged and sanctioned. I’ve been raised my entire life knowing that my mating would serve a purpose beyond my happiness. I wouldn’t be allowed?—”
“Allowed?” I roar. “Once the Call and the Binding have been spoken, there’s no taking them back. The mating is sealed. You know that, yes?”
“I do,” she concedes. “But being Privileged… Everything is different.”
“And I can’t understand because I’m not as good as you?”
She gapes at me. “That is not what I said.”
“Prettier words, but essentially, it was.” I hold up a hand, a thick sludge of dread sliding through me. I knew when I spoke the Call that little could come of this but doom. Bloody useless instinct. “Never mind. Speak the Renunciation and be done. I expected it anyway.”
Frowning, she murmurs, “Why?”
“You have to ask? I’m Deprived. Everyone thinks I’m mad. Hardly the sort who deserves a princess.”
With a stomp of her feet and a shake of her head, she rails, “I am not a princess. And I haven’t seen any evidence that you’re actually mad at all.”
I raise a brow. “But you said it yourself; you hardly know me. C’mon, Sabelle. The Renunciation, if you please. Let’s be done with this.”
