Page 12 of First (After the End #1)

THE NIGHT

Sofia

The bed in the general’s quarters must be worth more credits than my team of healers will earn in our combined lifetimes because it is made from wood. As I understand it, wood used to be a commonplace material. But the kind of trees that used to crowd the outside don’t thrive in salt water.

There is only one purpose for something so massive and built entirely of a rare substance: ostentation.

Whoever purchased the bed must have wanted to show off their wealth.

And even though I know little about Gabriel Agard, I simply cannot imagine him wasting credits on that.

It’s a relic from previous generals; I’d bet five years of my life on that.

The rest of the room is wide but sparsely furnished: A handful of chairs. Carpets. One nightstand, free of any clutter. A small armory area. A chest. A table with a holo station.

I’ve lost track of time, but I can tell that we must be past sunset because even though we’re high up enough to get some illumination through the water, no light filters in through the single lancet window that reaches upward to the vaulted ceiling.

Thankfully, electric candles flicker low in the dimly lit space, leaving only the farthest corners shrouded in dark.

The purring white noise of the environmental controls is at once smoother and quieter than in my quarters.

I hate to admit it, but I love everything about this room. Except, of course, for the pair of eyes flashing at me from the shadows.

For a split second, I assumed it was the glint of a light bouncing against a reflective surface. Then I noticed the occasional blinking, the large fuzzy outline surrounding it, and an impression of fangs, and I realized that I was being tracked by an animal. Still am.

Hunted.

This is disturbing. So disturbing, I sit on the edge of the bed, as still as possible, trying at once to make myself invisible and to not let the monster out of my sight. By the time the door opens, I’ve nearly convinced myself that I should play dead.

The beast can’t kill me if I die of a stroke first.

Someone enters the room. Heavy steps thud toward me, then halt. I hear a sigh, then a blunt, half growled “my lady.”

“Not a lady,” I murmur absentmindedly, unable to peel my eyes from the animal.

“As of approximately an hour ago, you are a member of the Larsen family. My lady.”

“Ah, right. There is that.” I’m trying to open my mouth as little as possible, but my ventriloquism act must not fool the beast, because its stare narrows into a glare.

My skin erupts into a million tiny goosebumps.

“It doesn’t seem as though you understand the situation, my lady. Did someone explain to you that when the Right of the First Night is claimed, the Omega—”

If I weren’t too terrified to move, I would wave my hand. “Yeah, yeah, for sure. You can do whatever you like with my body for the next few hours.”

“I can. Yes.” There is a shift in his tone—still annoyed, but also…intrigued? “Do you have any questions about the practice?”

“No.”

“No.” A pause. “You have no curiosity about what will happen to you by my hand?”

“By your hand? Not really, no—not to change the topic on you, but are you aware of the monster in the room?”

“The…monster. In the room.”

“Yeah.”

“If you are referring to me or trying to dissuade me from—”

“What? No. I’m sure you’ve partaken of terrible actions and that we all house a monster within us, but I wasn’t going for the metaphorical meaning. There is a real, actual monstruous creature. In the corner. Over there.”

I point with my finger. Don’t bother checking whether his gaze follows.

He mutters, to himself, but perfectly audibly, “They forgot to mention that she’s raving mad.”

“They didn’t. She isn’t. And if she is, they also forgot to tell me.”

“I’ll be the one to judge.”

I huff. “Sir, there is a green-eyed monster in that corner over there. It’s been waiting to pounce on me like a barracuda for the last quarter of an hour. The real madness, I would argue, is not acknowledging its presence.”

“A green-eyed…? For fuck’s sake, are you talking about… Alex,” he calls, his tone considerably softer. “Come here.”

At his command, a large, thick-furred beast with tufted ears emerges from the shadows. It stretches gracefully, erupts in a terrifying yawn, shakes nonexistent dust off its brown pelt, and then slinks toward Gabriel without sparing me a single glance.

Guess you’ve stared at me long enough for tonight, huh?

It occurs to me that it looks like the cats I’ve seen on a couple of occasions, the ones that lived in the animal-sanctuary areas at the end of my level, back when I was a kid. Alex, though, is three or four times bigger than the largest I’ve ever seen. And it looks peckish.

Or it did. Before starting to rub against the general’s legs, and…

“What is that sound?”

“A purr, it’s called.”

“Is that what it does before murdering someone?”

I am, at last, facing Gabriel. And for the first time, I get to look at him while he looks back at me. And he is certainly staring.

Briefly, he seems taken aback. There is a touch of surprise, an involuntary flinch in his features, a searching quality to his gaze that reminds me that during the ceremony, I was wearing a veil.

He may have seen holos of me, but when he demanded that I be brought to his room, he had no real idea of what I looked like, and this is his first time seeing my face in person.

The silence stretches. Gabriel swallows hard, tilts his head in a fashion that I cannot decipher, and seems to need a minute to reorient himself.

So I take the opportunity to ask, “Is it a cat?”

“Related. A lynx.”

Lynx. Yes. I faintly remember hearing the word, one and a half lifetimes ago.

From Dad, who was always telling me about the last history article he’d read.

He held his palm against one of the elevator sensors, smiling down as he waited for me to step through the doors.

“They’re felines,” he explained. “The military breeding program has a few, actually. Some are almost domesticated—they can really bond with us. Make for great companions.”

“Can I see one?”

Laughter. “I’ll see if I can make it happen, Sofia.”

I ask, “Does it live here?”

“She lives wherever she likes,” Gabriel tells me, petting the top of her head.

That doesn’t bode well for me. “Does she also eat whoever she wants?”

“You don’t need to worry. She has a highly refined palate.”

I let out a laugh, and he smiles in return. But then his face hardens, and he asks again, “Do you understand why you’re here?”

I do. I am aware that this is the most powerful man in the stronghold, that he loathes the family I am mating into, and that he has leave to do whatever he wants with me. The lynx may not be what I should be worrying about at the moment.

Why not both? asks a wise voice.

Why, indeed.

But hysterics don’t suit me. I’m a healer, trained to remain calm under pressure.

If something terrible is to happen to me, working myself into a frenzy won’t help me avoid it.

“I am here because you claimed the Right of the First Night. As for the reason for that…I assume it has to do with whatever pissing contest you’re currently trying to win against Lord Larsen.

” I smooth the folds of my dress but keep my eyes locked with his.

“It seems much more likely than the alternative, which would be you seeing me across a crowded room, becoming lovestruck, and deciding that you absolutely had to— What are you—”

He moves fast. In a blink he’s towering in front of me, and before I can stop him, strong fingers grip my chin and angle my face toward the light. His jaw shifts back and forth.

“Was it Lennart?”

“What?”

“Was it Lennart?”

He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who enjoys repeating his questions, but I have no idea what he’s asking. “What do you mean?”

“The bruise under your eye. Who hit you?”

“Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh, remembering that I washed my face before coming here. “No, no. I was helping one of the engineers repair a porthole in the north wing, and… No. Lennart wouldn’t.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t let go of me, but his grip softens. “You’re a healer.”

“I am. And Lennart is, too. He vowed to do no harm, just like me.”

Gabriel takes a step back. Begrudgingly, maybe. “He is considerably less skilled than you, I’m told.”

“Yeah, well…” I despise false modesty. “Maybe he’ll get there.”

We fall into a still sort of silence, regarding each other, the dramatic difference in our heights doubled by the fact that I’m sitting on the bed and he isn’t.

I should be quaking in fear. Rationally, I am worried.

But there’s something about this—this Alpha, this situation, this room, the thick scent that envelops me—that doesn’t quite send my systems into panic.

I know I should be scared, but I don’t feel it.

That must be why I hear myself asking, “Would you like me to get naked?”

He stares, quiet. Unblinking. Much like his lynx.

“I ask because this dress was very expensive, and I have lofty plans of selling it to replace some of the healers’ equipment.

I’d rather you not tear it. I’m happy to disrobe for you.

If I’d known that this situation would arise, I would have insisted on something less delicate.

” I shrug. “In my defense, this is very out of character for you.”

His lips twitch. “And what do you know of my character?”