Page 15 of Royal Protector

“In the rare event an Untouchable’s mate is found, their mate is given reparations to compensate for the loss. Under the stipulation that they never seek out their Mate, they often live long lives filled with luxury and success. Many find it preferable than being Mate to someone with such a strict lifestyle.”

A lifestyle isn’t how I’d describe my Untouchable duties, but even more so, I focus on how she describes what she called reparations. She makes it sound like an Untouchable’s Mate is rewarded as if they won the lottery or a game show. Antoine made it sound like torture.

One of them is lying, and I’m starting to think it is Martina.

“I was just wondering,” I say slowly, ending the line of questioning. She narrows her eyes at me, but says nothing more. She opens the door, and we head toward the little clearing that the pack uses for parking.

Antoine and Bastien meet us as we walk there. Antoine looks even better than last night, which is saying something since he looked terrific in that black tuxedo. I can’t wait to see him wear it for the next two galas.

Today, he wears a simple black suit jacket over a black dress shirt. The fabric is light and easy for movement. When he turns, I can see the glimpse of a leather holster at his hip.

“Ready to go?” I ask with perhaps too much cheer.

Antoine’s lips twitch, and Bastien immediately his usual boisterous conversation, covering everything from the hors d'oeuvres at the gala to the upcoming Saints draft picks.

By the time we actually reach Antoine’s Jeep, Antoine has clapped a hand on Bastien’s shoulder and growled, “Enough.”

Bastien flushed, but he sent me a sunny wink and mimed zipping his lips.

We aren’t going far into the city this time. In a move that may have had Antoine cracking his teeth because he was clenching his jaw so hard, Jack and Leo set the conferences at the Four Seasons hotel, like we’re a collective of automobile company executives instead of dangerous supernatural beings.

Both Alphas thought the risk of human interactions would keep anyone from doing anything dangerous that would reveal our world. I’m not so sure I agree—if someone is desperate enough to kill a fellow supernatural, then they have no reason to even think twice about killing a human.

The hotel is beautiful, a towering building in central downtown. I wish this was a real vacation for me. The Mississippi River is just a few steps away, and I’d much rather visit the nearby cafes and shops than spend my day locked up in a meeting, as glamorous as the inside of the hotel might be.

Hotel management sets us up in a ballroom that has been reconfigured almost like one would picture a senate or congress. At the front is a table, with chairs for the leadership. Jack, Anna, Antoine, and myself represent the Werewolf faction. Leo, Himari, and Leo’s second—a quiet man named Alain—are seated together for the vampires.

Since Leo is unmated, his side looks smaller, and I’m half-surprised they didn’t force him to take a temporary Mate just to make the table even. The rest of the attendees sit theater-style in rows of tables facing the seven of us. It’s the perfect configuration for an event like this—and the perfect set-up for long days of arguments.

As I take my seat, I flash Himari a smile. She lights up and sends me a little wave. I really should get to know her better, considering that she is the only other person in the entire world who knows what I am going through. I wonder if she’s found her Mate.

Everyone gets seated, and a card-stock agenda is passed out. It is edged in gold leaf, and I have to hold back a laugh when Antoine mutters about “vampire indulgence” under his breath. He notices my struggle, and instead of scowling at me, he taps my foot with his own underneath the table.

It’s a surreptitious movement, but I like the comfort of it. Even better, I like how normal it feels—like we’re an ordinary couple in our first days of dating instead of a doomed pair of lovers.

My face falls at the thought. Of course, we aren’t lovers. Other than the kiss our first night, none of Antoine’s touches have been overtly sexual in nature. But there have been touches nonetheless.

When he guides me as we walk, he places his large hand on the small of my back. When pointing out where we need to go or sit, he touches my shoulder. And right now, as we sit, our toes are experiencing more intimacy than the rest of me combined.

The first to stand up and speak is Leo, welcoming everyone to the first day of the conferences. He is a natural at speaking, every word holding meaning, every gesture making us feel at ease. His blonde waves, cut short except for on top, bob when he speaks, adding a casual air to his otherwise formal appearance.

His suit is tailored perfectly—as if a vampire would have it any other way—and if I didn’t know why we were here, I’d say he was a young CEO prodigy on his way back from a GQ photo shoot. But, of course, he’s an enigmatic vampire, and I’ve got to trust my instincts, no matter how charming he is.

Surprisingly, though, my instincts say to trust him.

Jack gets up next. He’s nowhere near as eloquent, but it’s okay. His talking points are straight and honest––we’re here for peace, not to assign blame or cause further distress to either side.

When Jack sits down, Antoine reaches behind my chair and softly claps him on the shoulder. Jack flushes, but smiles and nods a thank you.

“He appreciates your support,” I murmur. “I think more than you know.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” Antoine whispers. “But for Jack, I did. He’s a good man.”

A man named Kwan, a negotiation consultant from a vampire family in Portland, stands to give what he calls the “rules of engagement.” None of it is surprising—keep voices calm, no interruptions, respect schedules, and don’t speak over your allotted time—but it all needs to be said.

However, I’m well-versed in the art of polite negotiation, so I let my thoughts travel back to what Antoine had said. He hadn’t wanted to come back to his own pack? I would think that any werewolf—other than myself and my altered instincts—would die rather than leave their own pack.

Now, not only has he gone against his own wishes, but he’ll soon be exiled and not of his own accord. I make a mental note to ask him about it the next time we're alone.

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