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She was also the mother ofmychild, Remington.

Removing the gold ring from my pocket, I place it on the altar. The rage I felt when I realized it was missing–that the girl stole it–was all-consuming. Too consuming for this many years later. The hold Amber has on me is perilous. Humiliating. A risk to everything I’ve worked to accomplish and my plans moving forward. All the work I had done to become a better man faltered in that one moment.

With that in mind, I strike the third match and light two candles with the flame, one for Amber, one for my son. Those seeds Benji had sown in Amber, they’d worked their way from mother to son, his mind as restless as hers. At times, I fear, as dangerous.

My hopes of healing him–saving him–were lost long ago. He’s entrenched with those who pander to his weaknesses. He loathes me, which is fair, I’d participated in my own manipulations, all with good intentions. He doesn’t understand all of this was for him–forus–and now I am trapped fulfillingthe obligations of a different path, one he was chosen to take. The girl I’d hoped would tie us together, in a few days, will bemybride, not his. She was to be his salvation, instead, now it’s just another consequence.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my mask, eyes falling to the stack of candles. Impulsively, I grab the candle and strike the final match, lighting the wick.

I swallow and speak to the powers that rule us, light and dark, the only words that suffice, “Give her the strength for what is coming. There will be no mercy.”

“Come forward,”I say when I hear her footsteps falter near the side door. I feel soothed, the emotions I felt before no longer have me in a chokehold. I’d left them, along with the ring, at the altar.

She approaches the throne dressed in velvet and lace. It doesn’t do much to take away from the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, or the timid way she walks–her muscles aching after sleeping on the hard floor in a confined space.

I didn’t consider her state when I barged through the door the night before. Didn’t fucking care. But I didn’t expect to find her in the bed, naked, those full round breasts tipped in silver. Damon’s work, I assume.

That’s the image that flashes over her as she moves closer. The flat belly under the swell of her perky breasts, the dark thatch of soft hair covering her pussy. I stared down at her on her hands and knees, at the soft flesh of her cheeks. I call her a girl, she acts like it, but there’s no doubt that she has a woman’s body. It’s made of a woman’s curves, the kind you hold onto and plunder. It was the second time I’d seen her exposed. Thefirst, writhing on the altar. The second, scared and confused.Obedient.

Both times brought the same feeling in my chest: disgust.

The woman in front of me lifts the hem of her skirt by the lace and curtsies. “Your Majesty.”

I fight an eye roll, and plan to kick Graves’ ass later for putting her up to this nauseating display.

“That’s enough,” I mutter. “Stand straight.”

Our eyes hold for a long moment, until she blurts, “Please don’t send me back. I won’t do it again. I’ll sleep in the cage. I’ll do whatever you–”

“Quiet.”Her mouth clamps shut, although it seems to take a herculean effort. “As much as I’d love to send you back to your uncle, that is not possible.” I look down at her. “As was my hope that you would adapt to your role as Baroness by attending class and your Barons with no complications.”

Her jaw loosens and she starts, “I’m–”

“Shut. Up.” Emotions flicker across her face. She struggles to control them–which is a problem. She struggles to controlherself.Even more of an issue. “This is my home, Baroness. A home I open to a chosen few in Forsyth each year. I provide one worthy female a room, nourishment, safety, and protection. In exchange you are at the will and command of my Barons, who are at the will and command of their King.” I pause, letting her comprehend the information before I continue, “And are currently restraining themselves at my request.”

She shifts her feet, the patent leather soles scuffing softly. I have no doubt she’s thinking of the carving on her chest and the bars I saw threaded through the peaks of her nipples. I can only assume she’s experienced more under their hands since the Hunt, damages I can’t see.

Back in the day, I would have torn her to shreds.

“The situation between us is unprecedented, which may make things confusing for you, so let me be clear: you are not to wander the House of Night without approval. You are not to touch anything that doesn’t belong to you. You areneverto go in any room that isn’t explicitly approved, especially mine, ever again.”

She nods, and I note that for once she’s keeping her mouth shut. Good, maybe she’s trainable after all.

“In less than two weeks the wedding will take place on Samhain.” I gesture to the sanctuary. “Here, actually, in this room.”

She looks around, taking in the space for the first time, absorbing the arched stained-glass windows, the leaded glass filled with BRN symbology. The large pentagram on the back wall behind the throne is omnipresent, a reminder of who and what we are. Her eyes skitter over to the altar, where the candles still flicker with light.

“Your uncle assured me that you were prepared to handle all of this, but it’s clear I’ve been misled.” I tap my ring against the arm of the throne. “I’ll notify Graves that we need to consult a professional.”

“A professional what?” she asks, then slams her mouth shut again.

“In weddings. Etiquette. Appropriate behavior. And…” I clear my throat. “Expectations.”

Her brown eyes lock with mine. Her innocence oozes off of her in waves, but those eyes… they swim with something deeper. More mature. More emotion than I feel comfortable sitting with. I lift my chin. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you,” she says, dropping into that curtsey again. “I won’t disappoint you again.”

I watch her walk away, the hem of her black skirt swishing against her thighs. She may mean what she says, but it’s a promise set to fail.