Drevakin

Rage is a fire in my belly. The door to Rathorin's House Mansion closes with an echoing slam. I knew he would not be a sympathetic ear on this matter, I came with that knowledge in mind. But his utter dismissal of the entire situation is still a shock. The disdainful offer of compensation as if my people and their safety are worth a paltry carriage.

I growl, recalling his callous disregard for my people’s suffering. My people. All because we do not have the power of a Major House. Because he sees us as disposable, as less than he and his people.

As I push through the marketplace on my way to the carriage, the crowd almost runs. I know my face is foreboding, reflecting the turmoil of my emotions. Reaching my carriage, I climb on then look back the way I came, the edge of the Ti’ana House Mansion just visible.

My stomach clenches as the possessiveness I've been fighting rises once again. Leaving Clara behind with Rathorin is more difficult than I expected. She looked lost next to Rathorin's much larger frame, and hurt. The urge to step in between the two of them, to shield her and take her out from under his power was much fiercer than I could have predicted. I know, even after such a short acquaintance, that Clara is a strong woman, more than capable of taking care of herself.

That doesn't matter. Knowing this is where she must stay, with this male who has no honor, who is unlikely to treat her with the care and respect she deserves...

My instinct was to pick her up and take her with me, damn the consequences.

Fighting the drive beating inside that tells me to turn back and take what is mine, I click the juntta into motion.

She is not mine. Is she?

The connection between us is undeniable. I'm drawn to her on a primal level. Desire pulses with every beating of my heart. My cock stiffens, throbbing with the memory of thwarted desire. The scent and feel of her.

But I'm not the only one I have to worry about. Pursuing Clara when she belongs to the Prince of a Major House is not just political suicide. It would have wide spread consequences. Even if Rathorin is not bonded to her, he would see it as a theft of one of his most prized possessions, the bearer of his future children. And he would wreak vengeance not just on me, but on all of House Lo'ara.

Every male, female, and child would pay for it. He would raze House Lo'ara, with all its history, culture, and steady, hard working people to the ground as if it had never existed.

Clenching my jaw, I force myself to turn away and urge the juntta out through the large gates in the border wall, ignoring the wary and judgmental looks from the guards. It's possible Rathorin will not treat Clara well, but it is out of my hands. My responsibility to my people takes precedence over my desires.

It must.

The journey back to House Lo'ara is painful. I have not secured safety for my people and I have left Clara behind. How can a woman I just met have such a hold on my thoughts?

When I arrive at House Lo'ara, I am in no better mood than when I left. In fact, I'm worse off, my heart aches with nothing to show for it. My people read my grim mood as I travel through the village, their greetings subdued, eyes somber and watchful.

When I arrive at the Lo’ara House Mansion, my servants and the stable master are careful and quiet, sensing the meeting did not go well. But they do not know the other reason my mood is even darker. I attempt to throw myself into work, into my duties. Keeping myself busy from early in the day to late in the evening then falling into bed. I hope exhaustion will allow me to sleep, but my nights remain restless, filled with anxiety and dread.

It is a fight over the next few weeks to stop myself from going back to House Ti'ana and spiriting Clara away. When I lay in bed, I can taste her on my lips, feel her warm, smooth skin under my fingertips. Hear the soft sounds she made as she climaxed on my fingers, her silky wetness coating my hand. Nightly, I take myself in hand and agonizingly spill my seed on the sheets, my obsession too great.

My mood is not fair to those around me and I attempt to keep it to myself, though I know I only partially succeed. People treat me with care, tip toeing around, attempting to shield me from even the smallest inconvenience for fear it might cause an explosion.

Which only irritates me further.

I prioritize the duties that will take me out of the House Mansion during the day to remove myself from the situation.

"My Prince!"

I turn as someone calls my name on my way out of the courtyard. It is the older male from the group attacked twice before. The rest of the group is here too. Striding over, I see fresh bumps and bruises as I close the distance. He's also favoring one leg.

The others are no better off with cuts, bruises, and covered in dirt, clothing ripped. Some are bleeding from more severe wounds, crude bandages wrapped around an arm, a midsection. The Ti’ana thugs didn't even spare the women.

A haze of pure rage settles over me. This will not stand.