Page 19 of Silvan

“I asked you first.” Romy appreciated their banter and, minus the awkwardness at dinner, had enjoyed getting to know Dane.

But enough tomarryhim?

Not that she had a choice in the matter.

Boldly, he took her hand and led her to a nearby bench. “Are we gonna be honest with each other? Completely honest, I mean?”

“Brutally honest is always my preference. I don’t want it any other way with us.”

Nervous sweat trickled on his brow, and Romy could tell he’d been dreading this discussion. It wasn’t at the top of her list either, honestly. “Being your Chosen is the ultimate honor. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”

Romy cocked her head. “I hear a bigbutcoming on…”

“But…”

“There it is.”

They laughed, and his tension faded. “But this isn’t where I want to be. Going to law school, settling down here in New Orleans.”

“Where do you want to be?”

After a deep inhale, Dane sighed. “New York. I’ve played the violin since I was a kid. ‘Becoming well-rounded’ is what my mom said, but I loved it and practiced every free moment I had. In college, I was first chair in the orchestra and played for the Baton Rouge Symphony. For shits and giggles, I applied to the Manhattan School of Music to see if I could make it… and got accepted. Didn’t think I would.”

“Wow.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Don’t be sorry, Dane.” She cut in. “Pleasedon’t be sorry. I’m not into this arrangement either. This high priestess job isn’t exactly something I’ll excel at, so don’t be sorry for not wanting a life forced on us both.I’msorry for you and your dream. That really sucks. Is there any way you could still go?”

His head shook. “I turned them down at the beginning of the summer. It’s too late.”

“Damn,” she said, looking down. “That’s depressing.”

“Yeah it is, but Romy, I’m going to honor my commitment. You need to hear that. I’m someone you can depend on. As a husband and a helpmate.” His voice brimmed with sincerity and a conviction that compelled her to believe he meant every word.

For a moment, they sat quietly, the burden of responsibility to their family and the coven weighing on their shoulders. Would she and Dane ever embrace their calling, or were they doomed to resent it? Romy doubted divination would be part of her candescence gifts, but predicting the future was irrelevant. She’d make the best of this situation. Her attitude was the only thing she had complete control over.

“Wanna start with friendship?” She peered into his kind chocolate eyes. Behind them, she saw the same determined fire she felt within herself.

“Wanna start with a snow cone?” Dane countered as he pulled her up to stand next to him.

“Okay, now you’re speaking my language.” Romy clapped her hands together and fell in beside him.

After they joined the line, he removed his wallet. “What’s your favorite flavor? I peg you as a Tiger’s Blood kind of girl.”

“Wedding cake, actually. No pun intended. Not yet, anyway.” She gave his arm a playful punch. “What about you?”

“Almond Joy.” Dane’s hand went up for a high five. “Our marriage’s foundation is our love of coordinating flavors. Hashtag winning at life.”

Romy couldn’t help but grin at his silliness. At least they had that in common.

While he went to the counter and placed their order, Romy wandered down a nearby alley to admire an indigo bougainvillea beginning its slow climb up a wrought-iron trellis. It was empty, a nice reprieve from an intense day.

Out of nowhere, a peculiar sensation started in her chest and spread throughout her body. She looked to her left and right, conducting a full-circle search. Only the oblivious patrons strolled by on the street she’d come from. But she couldfeelthe undeniable force of someone’s gaze. She knew she was being watched. She wasn’t scared. Instead, she was even more turned on now than she was the night of the High Council.

Taking cover behind the trellis, Romy unbuttoned her shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra, exposing her breasts to the warm night air. Her hand slid into her shorts, and she braced against the iron, readying for her release. She didn’t dare close her eyes. No. She wanted to see whose eyes were on her. Purple petals fell into her hair and onto her chest as her pace quickened. She imagined palming the ass of her unruly lycan, the salty taste of his arousal on her tongue. And between her legs? Bastian. Blood trailed a thin line down his chin from the bite mark on her inner thigh as her sex begged for more. She would let Bastian drink his fill of her blood, and Silvan… he could feast on her body. Romy bit her lip to muffle the sound of the orgasm.

Pleased, she slid her finger into her mouth and tasted herself, knowing someone remained fixated on her every move. She wanted them to see.

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