Page 45 of Little Mate
“Consider it done.” With a slight nudge, I walk us the rest of the way until we stand just mere inches from the adult beasts, their noises growing louder the closer I get.
Animals have always fascinated me. They’ve evolved so much since my birth, morphing to adapt to their environments, and I’ve studied different species as a pastime. Now, though, I see the true purpose for my own fascination, and it has everything to do with the woman crouching and petting the oldest of the three.
The jaguar lies like a content house cat while she gushes over him. Her entire being vibrates with excitement and happiness, and more importantly, I vow to always keep her that way.
13
THEODORE ASTOR
VAMPIRE KING
I survey the room and all those inside: my generals, higher-ranking members of my army, and the elders who stand before my throne watching with high anticipation. They know. I’m not hiding her.
Murmurs fill the space, yet no one makes eye contact with me, their low conversations center, around the purpose for this meeting and whom the woman could be. They know it’s not someone from our coven or the neighboring ones, the many who bow to me as their lord and king. All are excited, all but Veltross.
He seems upset for some reason. His expression is pinched, and his eyes are hard while looking toward a woman to the left of where he stands and across the room. I can’t fully see her from the half-hidden position, but the feminine features are hard to ignore, as is the fake tiara upon her head.
He has a daughter with a human. Not something I give two fucks about, but if she’s his offspring, she has no business here. She is of no rank. Has no purpose in my court.
But then it doesn’t matter as my mate enters the room and all noise ceases. All eyes are on the vision in red walking toward me, the jeweled-lined bustier cinching to show off her curves before the skirt flares out a bit, her signature slit over the right leg.
Her long hair hangs over in coquettish waves down the center of her back while a gold and onyx crown sits atop her head. That piece alone has many falling to one knee, the elders bowing with a fist over their chests.
That’s the symbol left behind by my father for my mother. He isn’t completely heartless and did care for the woman he cursed to die.
How could he ever hurt her?
I could never hurt my pretty girl. Anyone but Gabriella.
The closer she walks, the more take notice of her heartbeat—the fog of surprise giving way to what she is. A sorceress.My perfect witch.
Their eyes pin-pong back and forth, waiting for a reaction, but not Veltross, who steps forward and in her path. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he hisses, arm reaching for hers and I’m next to them in an instant, my fingers wrapping around his wrist and yanking back. I tighten my hold, my fangs bared. “My lord, she’s a witch. Did you know this?” Those around us tense, their accusing eyes on my girl. Wrong move. “She has to be trick—”
“Silence.” He freezes, the air of importance he carries with him disappearing beneath my glare. “Not another word before I detach your head and let my animals use it as a chew toy.”
“Calm down, love. I knew this could happen.” Pretty girl takes the steps between us and places her hand over mine that’s holding Veltross. Her fingers squeeze mine, silently asking me to hurt him a little more, and I’m proud of the fact, before tapping my wrist with her pointer finger. “Let him go. I’m sure he meant no harm. Isn’t that right…?”
Veltross doesn’t answer her and with a quick move of my hand, I yank his ring finger off. He hisses, eyes flashing red, but my chuckle settles him down. His entire body language goes lax, but I’m not done.
This type of disrespect will never be allowed.
Not to her. Not to me.
I break the remaining hand, tearing the cold—dead—flesh from joint and bones, tossing it to the center of the room’s floor. Since he rose this hand against his queen, it’s only fair he pays with it.
“Kneel.” He’s whimpering, trying to appear smaller, but I kick out his leg, forcing him down to the ground. There’s no blood at the wound, but a black, almost tar-like substance bubbles to the surface while it begins to repair itself.
At this point, he’d have two choices. Reattach, or have the skin close around the wound and stay without the limb.
I’m only giving him one.
“My king, this is all a misunderstanding. I worry for you.” The stench of bullshit surrounds him, an acrid scent that tickles my nose, and I narrow my eyes. Not that he meets them. Instead, Veltross focuses on the expensive flooring, body shaking in agony. That injury had to hurt. “Please forgive me for stepping out of line. I’m sure she’s—”
“She’s my mate and queen.” Five words that force those who’d been standing all this time, wondering if the general is correct in his backward assumption, to drop to their knees. “Gabriella of the Moore house is above you. Above me.” More silence, and then the faint sound of hushed cries create a humming cadence that makes me smile. “Are there any objections?”
“My king, are you aware she’s a witch?”
“Your point, General Veltross? Or is it that you consider me an idiot?”