Under His Wings(61)
And now, staring the truth in the face, he wondered if his assumption—not to mention his status as royalty and Dimios—had made it difficult or too intimidating for Pria to confess her deception. Of course he would have eventually discovered her dishonesty when her hippogryph didn’t emerge. As there wasn’t a definitive time when a female experienced the change, maybe Pria had hoped by the time Nicolai realized she’d lied, love and forgiveness would’ve trumped his fury.
The what-ifs were numerable and irrelevant. At this moment he couldn’t even summon the anger or a sense of betrayal over Pria and her family’s duplicity.
Not when his true mate—the woman he’d fantasized about for five hundred years—lay sleeping upstairs. Awe filled him. Tamar—fierce, brave, beautiful Tamar was his bondmate. The other half of his soul.
And her death could be days away.
Terror capsized the joy. How fucked up was it that while he’d vowed to protect her from Evander, he was the true threat to her life?
“So we can save her,” Nicolai said, lifting his gaze to Bastien. Desperation raked at his chest, squeezed his throat. “If Tamar accepts me, chooses to mate with me, she’ll survive the change?”
“Theoretically, yes. But Nico…” Bastien paused, the beat of silence heavy with concern, “mating is about full acceptance—physical, emotional and with the soul. She may love you, is definitely attracted to you, but is she willing to surrender her all, including her humanity, to bond with you and your hippogryph? The body—that’s biological. But submitting her life to yours? That’s a choice.”
Nicolai closed his eyes.
My choice was taken away and I panicked. I know what it’s like to be caged like an animal, dependent on my jailer. I want life on my terms, not someone else’s.
Her words came back to haunt him. Whether he’d intended to or not, he’d snatched her choice away just as surely as Kyle had. Mating him would be caging her, cuffing her to him for the length of their existence. To Tamar that would be the worst betrayal. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t look down into her tawny tiger gaze to find bitterness and pain.
She’d been through hell and back. Had fought to regain the independence, freedom and normalcy that had been denied to her for three years. The only reason she’d agreed to Nicolai’s protection was to regain the life that had almost been lost.
Choosing him would mean losing her life.
And walking away from him would mean losing her life.
* * * * *
Nicolai climbed the stairs, the fear that had propelled him down the flight an hour ago now carrying the sharper metallic taste of despair. The length of the hallway stretched out before him like the last mile of a dead man. At the end, when he entered his bedroom, he would face the death of his mate or the death of his heart.
The revelations of this night tumbled and twisted in his head. Every time he tried to grab one and analyze it, it slipped out of his grasp. The truths, the lies—they were too much for him to comprehend.
Except for one.
The human woman he loved would die in a matter of hours or days if he didn’t convince her to give up her world and accept him and his existence. An existence of violence, uncertainty and danger. She’d survived a plane crash and abusive ex-boyfriend, endured years of physical therapy to recapture a blessedly boring, normal life.
He chuckled, the low, bitter rumble echoing in the silent hall.
Her piece-of-shit ex may have abused her, but Nicolai could very well kill her.
Reaching the bedroom door, he clutched the knob, turned it and entered the room. Immediately his eyes went to the figure on the bed, huddled under the blankets. The fire had dimmed to glowing embers and he padded across the room and crouched next to the fireplace. He grabbed the poker and kindled the flames before adding a few more pieces of wood. After a couple of minutes, he rose to his feet, satisfied.
He turned to the bed.
Tamar’s curls spread over the white pillow like a fantastic pinwheel of gold, copper and brown. He couldn’t help imagining what her hippogryph would look like. Petite with bronze wings? Would banded sandy-and-white feathers cover her breast? He could picture her tawny eyes in a regal, delicately rounded head.
A roar rolled in his gut, rushed up his chest, but Nicolai trapped it in his throat.
Time was precious. Bastien didn’t know how long before her transformation from human to hippogryph would begin. But from the increasing frequency of Tamar’s symptoms, he believed it wouldn’t be long. Nicolai tamped down his anger, sorrow and worry and shoved it aside. His first priority was keeping Tamar alive.
By any means necessary.
He released the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. In seconds, he’d stripped the denim down his legs and slid under the covers, gathered Tamar close. He held her within the cradle of his body, his thighs cupping hers, his chest pressed to the slender line of her back. Her sweet scent of hyacinth and sun-baked earth filled his nose, as much a comfort as her soft curves. Tenderly, he placed a kiss to the wild profusion of spirals, slid an arm under her head and tucked the other hand between her plump breasts.