Page 58 of Rejected Mate

When I tried to sit up, the dull ache in my side reminded me of what had happened. I touched the wound, only to find it cleaned and bandaged. I was also wearing a sleeveless white nightgown I’d never seen before, though I was lying in a familiar bed.

I was in Ares’s dusty bedroom.

Footsteps on the stone floor. Ares appeared at my bedside, looking concerned. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

I blinked up at him. He was wearing a T-shirt and slacks, which was an unusual look for him, though he looked hot as ever. The male could probably wear a potato sack and still stop traffic. His torn shirt was gone, as was the blood, though he still looked paler than normal. Was that because of the fight or worry over my safety?

“I’m… okay. What happened?”

“Callan,” he hissed. “He wounded you with the blade. I would have torn him to pieces, but I wanted to tend to you first. Luckily for both of us, it was only a superficial scratch. It’ll heal quickly.”

“Callan. That asshole. Why did he attack you?”

Ares handed me a glass of water. “He’s never been keen on the Raiths being head of our region’s vampires. His coven has always been at odds with ours, much like your pack and the Grimhowls. William invited him to this game following his favorite adage ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Callan has wanted to challenge me for a while, and he saw tonight as an opportunity. He didn’t count on you, though.” Ares appraised me as he gave a pleased nod. “You fought like you were born to do it.”

“I was,” I said, sipping the water. “My family has always trained for moments like that. It’s my experience that you don’t get to be in charge by sole diplomacy. Not with shifters.”

“Not vampires, either.” He sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at me.

“Why does he hate you so much?”

Ares shrugged. “The vampire who sired Callan, the leader of his coven, she and William, have an unpleasant history together. He has never told me all the details, but it goes way back. She has been filling Callan’s head with untold hatred toward me. I sometimes wonder if he even knows why he’s supposed to be fighting me.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Yes, it is. Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this. When I saw you hurt…” His jaw tightened as if he were barely in control of himself.

“You didn’t make Callan attack. And you bandaged my wound, so I think self-loathing is not necessary,” I said, sitting up. “What will happen to him now?”

Ares shook his head sadly. “Not enough. I would put his head on a spike, but his coven is prominent enough. I’m sure William will insist that it was nothing, a mere spat, and allow him to stay. If Callan remains here, that means he’s not elsewhere causing trouble. And if I complain, William will say I can take care of myself.”

“He’ll be allowed to stay?”

Rage burned in Ares’s eyes. “Likely.”

I thought this over, realizing that vampire politics was just as bad as shifter politics. While I was dealing with Laurel, Ares was having a similar issue of his own. At least that gave us something in common.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I said, poking at the bandage under my gown.

“Don’t fuss with it,” he said, gently moving my hand away. “I know shifters can heal, though not as fast as vampires, but since you can’t shift to make it better, you best leave it alone.”

“What about you?” I pointed at his chest.

He touched the spot and tightened his jaw. “The garlic on the blade will make the wound take longer to heal, but I’ll be okay.”

Hmm. This didn’t explain all the other times I’d seen them wounded and their healing slowed. As always, there was more here he was not telling me.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He was hurting. I could see it in the hard line of his jaw and the way he sat upright.

“At least we know now you’re not the only one who hides things.” His eyes locked onto me, giving me a pointed look.

I pressed my lips together before letting out a big sigh. “The game I threw.”

“Yes, that.”

“I can explain.”

“Do.”

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