Page 29 of Claim Me

The woman is hiding something. I sense it every time I’m near her. And while she might be right—that her secrets don’t apply to our current situation—I want to know everything about her.

How am I supposed to protect my House from her potential threat when I don’t know the full extent of her desires? She possesses a power unlike anything I’ve ever seen or felt. She put an entire city to sleep, for fuck’s sake. I can’t just give her freedom after that. She may not be the one who actually enacted the spell, but the ability is hers.

And that ability fucking terrifies me.

I take another gulp of alcohol, the burn a welcome sensation in my throat as Bane, Nox, and Nolan all stare me down.

“Say something,” I tell them.

“What would ye like us to say?” Bane asks, his Scottish accent somewhat thicker now that he has a few drinks in him. Sometimes I forget his origin, his significant time abroad having smoothed out his lilt in everyday speech. “It’s the lass’s decision, is it not?”

“But is she making it for the right reasons?” Nox murmurs, his Scottish accent less affected by the liquor. He almost sounds American. Perhaps because he and Bane both spent several decades at the universities there before the supernatural portal opened in the middle of downtown Portland, Oregon.

Bane arches a dark brow, his hair color similar to my own. Only, his hair is shorter than mine, cut closer to the scalp. But we both suffer from a perpetual five o’clock shadow. “What reasons would be considered right?” he inquires, his obsidian gaze on Nox.

“I don’t know, mate,” Nox mutters. “You’re the psychologist. You tell us.”

“So yer asking me to psychoanalyze her decision?” Bane’s lips twitch. “I don’t think it’s our place to judge.”

Nox folds his thick arms over his chest, causing his dark shirt to stretch across his muscles. “It is if this will hurt her more than help her.”

Nolan grunts. “The execution is going to hurt her regardless. That soul bond will shatter, and her sanity will fracture right along with it.”

“Forever the optimist,” I muse, toasting him with my mostly empty glass.

“You don’t keep me around for my optimism,” he returns.

He’s right, of course, so I simply stand and wander over to refill my drink.

“She’ll need to be put down if she loses her sanity,” Nolan adds. “I hope you’re all prepared for that.”

“She doesn’t deserve that fate,” Nox fires back. “She doesn’t deserve any of this bullshit.”

“I’m not contesting that, phantom. I’m merely pointing out what we’ll need to do if she loses her shit,” Nolan says. “She’s a liability. Whether her fate isfairisn’t up for debate.”

The archangel warrior is staring down Nox when I turn back around, their stances somewhat aggressive even though they’re both sitting.

While I would absolutely enjoy watching the two males spar, now isn’t the time.

“Nolan’s right,” I say, hating that I have to agree with his practical statements. “If she loses her sanity, she’ll become an immediate threat to Gold and Garnet. And we can’t allow that to happen.”

Nox’s arms flex, his jaw tight. “Fallon—”

“Rather than prepare for two executions, maybe we can consider ways to prevent Fallon’s potential disassociation,” Bane interjects, his tone as calm as ever. “We all know how death impacts fated mates, but perhaps there is something we can do to help ground her.”

“I’m all ears, Bane.” I settle back into my chair, my glass now full again. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I think having her attend the execution is a good first step. It allows her some closure. It also means the death won’t be sudden or unexpected or even unwelcome, so that may help her cope. And if we can give her something to live for, that could impact the outcome.”

“Something to live for,” I repeat, frowning as I consider what that may entail. “A purpose, you mean.”

“A purpose other than being kept in a room and forever interrogated,” Bane translates, his dark eyes meeting mine. “I understand why she can’t be allowed true freedom, but keeping her locked up—even in her current accommodations—isn’t all that enticing.”

“The four of us giving her a purpose to survive isn’t going to be enough,” Nolan says before I have a chance to reply. “She needs to give herself a purpose and take charge of her own destiny. If she wants to let fate break her soul, there’s nothing we can do to stop her.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Bane starts.

“No, it really is,” Nolan returns as he unfurls from the chair. “Either Fallon is a survivor or she’s not. In three days, we’ll know the answer.” He looks at me. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”