Page 28 of Shift of Morals (Shifter Lords #2)

Chapter

Eighteen

CAELAN

M ost nights, I retired to my office as a way to soak up some quiet and contemplate the day. I found it relaxing, and the time alone often led to new ideas or revelations I hadn’t considered during the day.

With Gianna in the Keep and the countdown to the wedding, this once-contemplative time became a time where I had to just sit down and take a breath because I was going out of my skin with stress and worry.

I tossed a piece of raw steak to Seymour, who promptly spit it out. The action made me chuckle because the thing was ravenous, so who or what had he eaten to make him not hungry now?

The flytrap hopped over—something I knew he could do, but he had never shown me before—using his pot to land flat on the table. Then he reached over to nip at my sleeve.

He bit every single person who came into my office, except for me. Even gentle Ben, whom he’d once liked. I didn’t have the heart to ask Ben if something had happened, because I had to restrain myself from trying to rip his face off for even daring to pursue Evie.

Two kitchen staff had quit after Seymour’s bite sent them into temporary paralysis, and Gianna had requested multiple times that I “dispose” of Seymour as if he were trash instead of a sentient being.

Seymour’s teeth didn’t break my skin, but I’d have to replace my shirt by the time he was finished.

I’d never get rid of him, even if he were a bloodthirsty weirdo.

He and the turtle vine were the only things I had of her, and Gianna didn’t know where the other one had come from.

I wouldn’t tell her either, not trusting she wouldn’t destroy it just because she knew Evie had given it to me.

Gianna wouldn’t go near Seymour. The flytrap despised her and lunged at her every time she came inside.

Speaking of her, the door opened, a soft, mysterious perfume announcing her presence before she entered.

Seymour made a rumbling noise.

Gianna huffed. “You still haven’t gotten rid of that thing,” she sniffed.

“I already told you, Seymour stays.”

My eyes roamed over Gianna as she closed the door behind her and sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. Seymour started hopping toward her, but I grabbed his pot.

“Behave.”

Seymour rumbled at me but made no move toward her again.

Gianna’s gaze landed on the three additional samples Evie had sent over via courier earlier. “Those are the new choices?”

I nodded. All of them in Gianna’s chosen red and white. I hated every one she sent but knew I wouldn’t win this battle. Winning the war was more important.

“Better,” Gianna acknowledged grudgingly. Her gaze flicked up to me. “Thoughts?”

Oh, I had so many thoughts. The woman before me had an icy beauty that turned many heads, but her heart was just as frozen.

I liked my women to run hot and furious.

A warrior didn’t have to hold a sword to be terrifying.

But Gianna preferred underhanded, manipulative tactics to win, not blunt, in your face war.

She was dressed to kill this evening, wearing a one-shoulder red cocktail dress and gold high heels. Her long hair was pinned in a perfect chignon, and her makeup was perfectly applied.

“Have plans this evening?”

Gianna scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course, I do. Unlike you, I don’t prefer moping alone in my office during the evening.”

Magic rose in the room, a physical manifestation of my anger. “I also like moping in the living room and the kitchen. Sometimes even the bedroom if I’m feeling really feisty.”

Gianna sighed and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Caelan. How do you expect me to be your wife if we’re never seen together?”

“I don’t expect anything, Gianna, dear. The Council expects it. All I’m required to do is marry you. Everything that comes after that is extra.”

“And heirs?” Gianna snapped. “You must carry your bloodline on.”

“Shifters have a notoriously low birth rate,” I said mildly. “And who’s to say any delay is due to me?”

Gianna sucked in a breath. Insulting a shifter’s fertility, especially one of her impeccable pedigree, was one of the lowest insults one could offer.

Her magic rose through the air, shifter cut with something I’d been trying to parse out from the moment I’d met her.

Gianna wasn’t one hundred percent shifter.

I’d bet my territory on it. But my only suspicion had sent cold dread through my heart, so I hadn’t said anything about it.

Only made a desperate deal with an unknown god as fickle as my fiancée.

“How dare you?” she seethed. “I am here trying to be a good wife to you, and all you do is insult me.”

“I don’t want you here,” I snarled.

Gianna’s eyes flickered. “My agreement is not with you, anyway. All I’m required to do is marry you, and my part will be complete.” Her lips turned up in a cruel smile. “If you do not go forward with the bonding ceremony, your territory will be forfeited.”

Rage carved a path through my bones with her words. If I could kill her right now, I would. Her smile widened. Gianna knew I would too.

She uncrossed one leanly muscled leg and rose, leaning across the desk. Seymour quivered in his pot.

“Remember who holds the power here, Lord. Do your duty.”

I remained silent. She rose, her eyes flashing a strange violet as she left the room.

It took me a few minutes to contain my anger.

When I had myself firmly under control once more, I rose and opened the hidden latch contained inside one of my bookshelves.

When the device clicked, the shelf opened, and just as I was about to walk down, Seymour clanked his pot and lunged for me.

I caught him with a surprised grunt and lifted him to stare.

“You want to come?”

Seymour quivered.

“Fine. But don’t try to eat anything. If you do, I’ll eat you myself.”

Seymour didn’t respond, so I took it as his agreement to behave.

I didn’t come down here a lot, only when I needed answers I couldn’t find on my own, but after I’d met Evie, I found myself down here much more often.

A strange smell of ash and oak burned my nose, and I stilled before I stepped off the last stair. Someone had been down here, and it hadn’t been Simone.

I sent my magic out but sensed nothing else amiss and no other presences inside the library. With that, I headed straight to the scarred wooden desk and set Seymour down, only to see a scroll tied with a forest green ribbon.

I opened the parchment to reveal a handwritten note.

You will have your moment, Lord. I am still considering its price.

Relief and horror warred within me. I sank onto the old chair and leaned back, digging my fingers into the pocket of my shirt and brushing over one of the petals that had fallen from Evie’s boutonniere. Her words about secrets came back to me.

Mine are safe until you need something from me.

If things were up to me, I’d burn the world down to keep her secrets.