Page 73 of Little Mate
“Not now, sister. We must go home.” And it’s the urgency in her voice, the tremor, that has me follow her while our mates walk behind us. Something is wrong.
Why do I feel as though we’ve lost?
22
GABRIELLA
His hand is on the small of my back as we follow the hostess to our table. We’ve been married for four months now, a peaceful time where King Larue has kept true to his word and has gone silent along with Isabella. She’s avoiding our pending conversation, refuses to say more than there’s an amulet residing inside of me and her.
My gift is from death.
Hers is from mother earth.
The beginning and end.
To see beyond what’s in front of you.
That’s it. Nothing else.
And I’m angry at her for staying quiet for so long.
Yet, there’s also peace in my soul since this ended. No more hunting my kind or looking over our shoulders; our people have also become more tolerant of each other and accept that change can be a beautiful thing.
We all love the same.
We all mourn the same.
Together, we are unstoppable.
Maybe it’s time to revisit the topic of changing me? Maybe that’s why Isabella finally sent word yesterday that we’ll meet tomorrow.
The young woman in front of us sways her hips, trying to garner the attention of every man in the room, and yet fails miserably. Pathetically so, yet something about her is familiar to me and I feel an irrational bought of anger run through my veins.
I don’t know her, but the hate inside me is unmistakable.
I’m embarrassed for her. I giggle through our recently discovered mind link—our sacred bond that after the last full moon morphed into something deeper—and Theo chuckles, amused by my candor. But then again, I’m always nothing but honest, that breath of fresh air in his frozen lungs.
His dead heart beats for me. His darkness surrounds me in warmth.
“Humans are disrespectful by nature.” My voice is low, but he nods, and I know she heard, the subtle stumble telling me as much. His face holds a bit of disgust, too. He hates to be around mortals, but tonight we came here for me. To celebrate a human holiday because I find the idea of Valentine’s Day quite adorable. That, and he loves his macabre gift of a steel blade he can attach to the end of his finger like a claw. It’s silly, totally unnecessary for a vampire, but it inspired him to make a reservation for this romantic dinner.
“They hold no qualms in trying to bed a taken male or female, my love. No honor. No code.”
“That they are,” I say as he pulls me a little closer, his arm wrapping around my midsection. His need to feel skin on skin rivals mine, and I sigh when he places a chaste kiss on the nape of my neck.
The hostess leads us to a table set for two near the back with the dark night sky as our backdrop. The windows are open, and the moon is high—the stars light up the dark abyss above while I sit in the chair he pulls out for me. We ignore the hostess and her idiocy. The placement of my husband’s menu across the table and away from me is not lost on either of us.
Nor is her scent. The differences that let her fit in amongst those in the city.
“Is this table to your liking, sir?” the woman asks, moving closer to his side, but before she can place a hand on my mate’s arm, he has her wrist in his hold. Had we been anywhere else, he wouldn’t hesitate to rip it off, but for now I’m satisfied by the subtle crunch of bones and her yelp. “Sir, you’re—”
“Never touch me,” my husband hisses out, the command of a king, eyes flashing red while she begins to shake. His fangs descend for a second, piercing the gums while she watches in fear. “Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll have your head on a spike outside the palace walls. Now, go back to the front and don’t come back.”
“My apologies.”
“Not accepted, hybrid.”
“How?” the hostess asks me while holding her wrist against her chest, voice trembling. She knew who we were. “No one here—”