*Ana*
"Who are you going to marry?" The question lingers in the air. A sudden silence envelops us. Not even the fire pits crackle. Everyone remains silent, paralyzed by the moment. This sudden transition from conversation to stillness heightens my awareness of their actions. The room is utterly motionless.
My breath catches somewhere between my throat with confused shock. Blinking rapidly, my mind can barely curl around the words, processing the meaning. But I am the only one struggling. Around me, the court is watching. Eager red eyes burn down on me as fangs flash in anticipated smiles, almost as if already prepared for this moment. They are waiting for an answer—my answer.
Marry? Me?
My eyes shift across the room, falling from the floor to the dias. Father moves. I can feel it like a shift in the air, a raw command of not a king but a Father, floods the room. His hands grip into his pants, his jaw locking, muscles twitching beneath his beard. His eyes–normally so warm and inviting–are burning into Duke Zaver, pinning him to place as the vampire lord just keeps his smile. The expression on my father's face is not surprised. It's understanding and furious.
Like he already knew this was going to happen. He was just waiting for it, just as Mykhol looked the same and every noble in this room seemed to.
Save for me. I look between both of them, standing on either side of me, almost. Father just below the platform while Mykhol seems to take on a nearly guard-like posture at my side, his heat radiating off of him hotter than the fires. Another soft growl rips from his throat.
I sit up straighter, bracing against the throne. My voice finds itself through my confusion.
"Marriage?" I repeat, careful to keep my tone even. I meet Duke Zaver's gaze with measured control. "You… want to discuss that now? Isn't this a bit abrupt?"
Duke Zaver smiles, as if reassuring me, but the expression only deepens my irritation. And as if by speaking, his words trigger the spell to break around the room. Lords and Ladies shift, heads turn, and voices murmur with excitement and rushed whispers.
"Now that the coronation is over, we can finally get down to the real issues," a noble calls out.
I inhale sharply.
Real issues? My marriage is more important than the colonies? More critical than Pave? Than securing stability in Nochten?
I struggle to suppress my disbelief. Do they truly think this is the priority right now? I expected challenges from the court, resistance even, but I thought it would be over my authority, my decisions, my policies. Not… this.
Before I can respond, Duke Zaver steps in again, sweeping a hand toward the nobles.
"As you can see, Your Empress," he says smoothly, "everyone is eager to see this matter settled."
I arch a brow. "You are anxious? About my marriage?"
He nods, along with several others. "Now that your coronation is complete, we should begin selecting a suitable consort. We need to secure an heir."
I press my fingers lightly against the armrest of my throne, considering my words carefully.
An heir. It's barely been a full day on the throne, and they're already thinking about an heir? So soon?
I mean, I knew this would come up eventually. Marriage was never something I opposed—it was an expectation I would have to meet as an Empress. To marry and bear an heir to continue the line. I had already accepted.
But this soon? Aren't there more important matters we should resolve first?
Duke Zaver continues, his chest swelling. "And with so many good candidates present, myself included—" He touches the gold chains at his chest, clearly proud.
I barely keep my expression neutral as a young noble bursts out, his voice edged with panic.
"What suitors?" he exclaims. "I thought it was a given that Lord Mykhol and her Empress would be—"
"It's not been confirmed," another noble hisses.
The young lord flounders, eyes darting around the room. "But isn't it common knowledge?" he mutters. "We've all heard the rumors—"
"Knows what?" A voice makes the room still again. It's Admiral Nugens. The human is stepping from his post with the other guards to look directly at the outspoken noble. "What rumors do you mean to say, Duke Anivil?" His voice is sharp as the sword at his side as he glares down at the vampire, making him shrink in place.
The young lord immediately averts his eyes, keeping them to the ground. But as he avoids Nugen's stare, I can feel the stir of heads amongst both sides of the room. Heads are turning to peer beside me, at Mykhol. The gesture made him flick a small smile, but nowhere as strong as usual. He still seems on edge by Duke Zaver's presence.
Father is no better. His face only growing darker at the mention of the rumors. Rumors which I can probably guess are the ones I heard from the maids before.
They are referring to 'that' rumor, aren't they? The one where Mykhol and I would marry. It is still so preposterous to me. It's more of a surprise they are still harping on about that.
I would have thought it would die by now- my eyes lifted to find Mykhol's mouth, and suddenly, the tingle came back to my lips. The kiss he gave me just before I took the crown.
That kiss–A shiver runs through me, unbidden, unwanted. My lips part as if to breathe past the memory, but the sensation lingers—how soft his lips were, how warm. Then, Mykhol's vermilion eyes catch mine.
My breath snags. I jerk my gaze forward, swallowing hard, willing my heart to steady.
No. I won't think about that. This is pointless. There is no reason to dwell on such things.
And there is no reason to be speaking about marriage right now. I straighten, my voice cutting through the murmurs. "Duke Zaver, everyone, you are right."
"Ana?" Father shifts, turning up to look at me with worry. But I smile back at him with reassurance. I know what I'm doing. This, too, is something I understand is a responsibility of an Empress. And I've already made this decision long ago. I won't waver.
I offer him a reassuring glance before continuing. "Marriage is an important matter, and I understand the concerns surrounding it."
The room holds its breath.
I meet their gazes evenly. "However, with the situation in Pave unresolved, I cannot in good conscience turn my attention to personal matters. Until Pave is settled, discussions of marriage and suitors will be postponed."
A beat of silence. Then—
"What?" Duke Zaver's smile drops so suddenly it looks painful. Across the courtroom, expressions shift—some pale, others darken in disapproval. Murmurs swell like a rising tide, rolling to the arched ceiling. Then the protests begin.
"Her Empress won't get married?" someone gasps.
A lord with a pointed beard, more orange than red, mutters under his breath—just loud enough to be heard.
"But surely, Her Empress doesn't expect to rule alone. Nochten has never been ruled by a woman without a man beside her." A calculated pause. Then, with faux innocence— "I mean… look at what happened to the late Empress Parsal—"
"What happened with my mother?" My voice stills the room like a guillotine falling.
The nobles freeze. Eyes dart between one another, weighing whether to answer the Empress directly or risk speaking of the dead—a near-taboo in Nochten.
I see it—the uncertainty, the hesitation. This isn't just about courtly etiquette. It isn't just the taboo of speaking of the dead.
They don't want to talk about it. That, more than anything, makes my stomach coil.
For a moment, no one dares. Then, after a sharp breath, another lord steps forward, bowing stiffly at the waist.
"With all due respect, Your Empress, Nochten has long required a man to sit upon the throne. A woman alone—" He catches himself, carefully adjusting his tone. "That is to say, we would feel better if there was a man ruling alongside you."
"For stability," a lady adds, clutching at the pearls around her throat. "For order."
Another lord folds his arms. "And the issues with Pave could take years."
"Years!?" A shrill voice cuts through the noise—my aunt. Her red eyes flashing in a mix of bright and dark shades all at once like a roller coaster of emotion–shock, anger, surprise, even despair. Her face turned all shades of white and green, looking even more drained of color than his dukeship himself.
Duke Zaver at the moment is losing all his sense of poise, dropping his jaw to blink up at me. Stunned. White. Stiff as a board. His face flushed with red as if embarrassed at the idea. Barely able to lower his head in a bow, he retreats to the safety of the crowd and his group. Ducking his head amongst the other lords who seem just as stricken.
It's quite the sight. I didn't think my words were that shocking. It was a given, I thought but clearly I seem to be the only one.
How could anyone think of marriage right now with some much going on? I only received the crown yesterday. There was still support I needed to secure in court. We needed to establish citizenship agreements with the Bulgeons. Nochten's entire future with Pave remained uncertain.
We had more than enough to handle.
So why add to it with more distractions?
I exhale sharply. "Was it really that shocking to want to wait?"
I turn to Mykhol. He already knew of my plans. I had told him long before that I wanted to hold off until things were settled. But I find him flexing a little smirk. His vermilion eyes glittering with amusement. He looks like he wants to laugh.
"Ana, I thought you would have changed your mind. But you really plan to–" Mykhol drops his voice with a look. He means to lean in to whisper, but I never hear it over the sudden burst of a hard laugh cutting through the room. Hidi's loud laugh carries against the walls as she slaps her knee.
"Gods damn, Ana." She holds her sides as she continues to laugh.
"What?" I look at her, confused, but that makes Hidi laugh even more.
Hidi wipes a tear from her eyes. "I'm so glad I came. Mama is gonna kill over when she hears this."
"Hidi, it's not that funny. It's just logical that I won't take on another task before finishing my first–" But Hidi laughs over me. Finding my reason somehow even funnier. For whatever reason, it seems to have an effect on Father.
He cracks a smile pushing back his hair. "Why are you-" His eyes colored over with something looking like relief. "My baby daughter, you really are just like your mother."
What did that mean? Did mother do something similar? I know she married my father. I know she left Nochten for Dawny. But…
Was that what they meant? Or was there more?
I glance at the nobles again, searching their expressions. The ones who had spoken of her earlier now look tight-lipped, stiff, carefully composed. Not a single one meets my gaze directly.
There's something here. Something beneath their words.
Something I don't know. I wish I could ask, but outside of the two laughing together, there is still unrest in the room. And it only grows stronger until a lord steps up from the crowd. His cane cracking against the stoned floor as he rises to his full height. His red eyes are small and piercing.
"Your Empress?" The lord begins, his voice firm despite his older age. "Is that what you want? To wait till everything is over? Even if that will take years? Do you think that is wise?"
"Yes, Your Empress," Aunt Funda is quick to jump in, clicking forward on her heels to stand beside Mykhol. "We shouldn't be too hasty. Perhaps we could bring this up a bit later and-"
"I'm not being hasty." I furrow my brows at her insult, like I did not think this through. "We can touch upon this subject once the Southern colonies are under control."
"But Pave could take years-" Funda grips at her throat before moving to hold Mykhols' arm. Something like worry flashes across her eyes before she looks back at me.
"Surely you don't mean us to wait so long?" Her voice wavers before daring to flash an eye to the crowd, inviting their support. "Not after we've come all the way here. I mean, this would be the perfect opportunity to make announcements and–"
"What announcements would there be?" I cut in smoothly. "I have made myself known, Aunt. Pave is my priority, and it will continue to be until things are resolved."
"But your Empress–" Aunt Funda looks like she is about to cry with panic before Mykhol reaches for her hand.
He speaks softly, "It's fine, mother." Before turning to smile at the court. "Well, I believe her Empress has made herself clear, did she not? We will have no talk of marriage till things are sorted with Pave."
"But Mykhol, the plan–" But before she can speak, Mykhol is lifting his hand to the room. His courtly smile on as he seems to take the lead. His eyes cast over the group as if to ease their calm.
"It is her priority. And so it will be ours." Mykhol's voice carries easily, a firm declaration that quiets the room. Then, under his breath, meant only for me—"Until it's over, that is."
His words linger, curling around me like something unseen but heavy. Mykhol? A flicker of something unfamiliar crawls up my spine. The weight in his tone—something layered beneath the words—makes me stiffen, heat prickling under my tunic. His gaze lingers, dark and unreadable, and my breath tightens against my ribs.
Again, I feel it—the phantom press of yesterday's kiss. Unbidden, the memory resurfaces, the fleeting warmth of his lips against mine. It shouldn't mean anything. It doesn't. I force it away, willing the strange tightness in my chest into nothingness.
Mykhol is only trying to help. I tell myself this. I make myself believe it.
I rise. "If that is all." My voice is steady, detached. I turn my hand, dismissing the room once again. "Court is adjourned."
This time, they listen. The lords and ladies rise in practiced unison, their whispers following them out through the main doors. The chamber empties swiftly, its size stretching wide in their absence. But the space Mykhol occupies does not fade. His presence lingers, an unspoken question pressed into the air between us.
But before I can look back at him again, a flash of blonde suddenly fills my pehrpeal. The shake of heavy footsteps rocking as she bellows forward in a rush. Her grin of bright blunt teeth beaming as if she is about to burst with laughter.
Her voice breaks in a roar again, laughter shaking through her as she seems overcome. "Ana, you are a riot!"
"A what?" What did I do? But Hidi doesn't bother to explain. Her gaze falls over the room as she begins to count softly under her breath.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, just wondering how many will go." She laughs again with a wave at some of the overly dressed men. Upon seeing her, they shrink, rushing out of the room like birds with a cat.
"Go?"I frown, coming back to her. "Of course, they are going, Hidi; I dismissed them."
Hidi laughs and nudges my father's side when he joins us. Her giant elbow knocking some wind out of him, not intentionally, but he makes a quick look of pain before rubbing his side as she chuckles. "Well, you must be on cloud nine right now, ja?"
"I won't deny it," Father manages a smile, still rubbing his side. His eyes darted over the room. "Though I still have things to do."
Hidi winks at some secret joke between them. "As any father should," she gazes over the room again. "It gives you more time, though."
Father nods again, sharing her smile."It does."
"What time?" What are they talking about?
"Nothing to worry about, my little Ana." Hidi bops my nose. "It's just grown-up talk. You don't need to be concerned."
My frown is instant. "I am a grown-up." I even have Nochten's crown on. But she just roars again with a new fit of laughter.
She moves to dry her eyes. "Ah, this is too much." She sighs as if pleased. "I should write this down before I forget. I'll write to Mama first, then I'll write him." Hidi nods to herself before gripping my shoulder to tossel me a little. Before letting go with a new grin.
"Thank you for the entertainment, Ana."
"Entertain- Hidi?" What did I do? But Hidi is fast. She is already clicking her heels out of the room and down the hall in a flash of pink dress and blond braids. Gone.
Leaving just as bewildered by her appearance as by her disappearance. She is rather wild for a queen.
"What is she talking about, Papa?" I finally mustered, coming back to him. But he is staring out at the crowd. No, he is staring at someone– a thin boy that I can quickly recognize myself.
Father gives him a giant wave first, as if oddly excited to see him. "Sir Pendwick, good afternoon!" He booms, making the timid boy flinch. But he manages a slight wave. The older vampire, the one with the cane from before, Sir Celbest, was following a step behind him. He nods to my father.
"Your Majesty, Your Empress." His eyes then dart to the small boy, a quiet flick of his lips as if to prompt him. Pendwick flinches but moves to nod.
"Y-your Highness," Pendwick lifts his eye to meet my eyes quickly before darting away.
Father keeps his grin, watching the two pass. Something in his gaze had more meaning than just a common greeting. But whatever it is, it passes as he comes back to me.
His warm hands instantly cupped my cheeks to lean in to press a kiss to my forehead.
"You did beautifully, my baby girl." His kiss tingled on my skin before pulling back. "This was your first real court session as Empress, and I couldn't be more proud of you."
I managed a controlled smile but felt conflicted.
"I think it could have gone better." It should have. I hadn't expected so much pushback, nor had I anticipated marriage being raised so soon. But as it was—
Father's thumb strokes my cheek, grounding me. His blue eyes are gentle, patient. "Don't beat yourself up, honey. You'll get better. I'm going to make sure of it."
I couldn't help but smile a little wider, finding his words comforting. "Thank you, Papa."
"And I'm relieved by your decision." Father takes my arm, cupping his large hand over mine, enveloping it in warmth. He looks positively thrilled, his grin broad and easy.
"This really—" He laughs again, patting my hand. "Aha, this day has suddenly turned even better."
"Oh?" I tilt my head. I don't know why he would be so relieved, but his happiness is infectious. It feels good to make him happy, even if I have no clue why. Then, the thought strikes me.
Had he heard the rumors too? The ones about me and Mykhol? Was that why he looked so pleased—that I had put the court's questions of marriage to rest for now? The idea nearly made me laugh. Of course, I wasn't going to marry Mykhol. He was my cousin.
The whole notion was absurd.
Yet, my stomach twists as my thoughts drift back to the weight in Mykhol's voice, the strange kiss from yesterday. I shove the feeling away. It's nothing.
As we walk, I notice the three still standing on the platform.
"Cousin?" I glance at Mykhol first, then at my aunt and uncle. "Court is dismissed. You can go." There was no reason to linger.
"In a minute." Mykhol smiles at me, but his nod drifts behind him. "I need to speak with my mother and father first."
Aunt Funda and Uncle Charles regard me with a measured nod, waiting for something. My gaze lingers on them before shifting back to Uncle with purpose.
"Uncle," I say, testing the weight of his presence.
The portly man stiffens. He looks up at me with a mix of intimidation and weariness. "Your Empress?"
"I will want the financial report by the end of the week."
"Yes, Your Empress," he replies, while Aunt Funda thins her smile.
"Yes, the Bulgeons," Aunt Funda mutters, darkening. "I nearly forgot."
"Forgot?" I cringe, but Mykhol clears his throat, pulling my attention.
"I'll meet with you later today. Wait for me," he promises with an easy smile—but it tightens as his gaze flicks to Father.
Father, on his part, only grins brighter. "Lord Mykhol," he smirks, amusement lacing his tone. "It seems you're the one who's going to do the waiting."
And as if finding something particularly funny, he laughs outright.
"Papa?" I glance up at him. What did he mean by that? But Father only pulls me closer, his grin unwavering as we continue out of the room.
I glance back once. Mykhol is still standing on the dais, watching Father a moment longer than necessary. His vermilion eyes darken—just for an instant—before he notices me watching. His smile returns, but there's something twisted in the corners.
Then, without a word, he turns to join his parents, and I leave with mine.
*mykhol*
Mykhol held his smile for Ana's sake, just long enough to trail a glance over his shoulder until he was sure the splash of her red shawl was good and gone. Disappeared around the corner. Only then could he drop the act. His lips breaking into a scowl.
That son of a bitch, King Alexander. He just had to rub it in, didn't he? Mykhol clenched a fistful of his tunic. His claws piercing through the expensive wool, running through it. But the tunic was meaningless right now as he had other things to contend with.
His jaw hurt, and he moved to rub it.
I didn't think she would still be set on waiting until after Pave was settled. His eyes flickered over to the fire pits, watching the flames twist and curl in the air. He recalled their conversation when they traveled to Dawny—she had mentioned it then. But he hadn't thought she would be so firm on the idea.
It seems I overestimated myselfonce again—even after everything, even after the time they spent alone, together, in the raw aftermath of her first blood. She had been his then, utterly his. He had let her drink from him, an act that was never taken lightly between their kind—a bond that ran deeper than words. Had she truly not realized what that meant? How important it was?
At the very least, she should have been listening to him by now.
Yet, she still wasn't.
Just like she hadn't when she rejected his gift—the scarf he had carefully chosen for her, only to have her toss it aside without a second thought. And she never apologized for it. Not once. To this day.
Why? Why was she still pushing away?
He thought… he was past this.
After years of just the two of them, after every moment he had been there for her, spoken for her when no one else would, comforted her when no one else dared, she should see by now. She should understand.
But she didn't. She was still resisting him. And Mykhol hated that he was even finding resistance from her, that she still had it in her to refuse him.
Even after everything. His jaw clenched tighter, the memory of the scarf incident flashing through his mind again, hot and irritating. He hated the feeling of being in the wrong.
But it didn't matter. Because this, too, was something he could break in her.
He didn't hate her for it. No—he loved her all the more for it. She was his, and she would see that in time.
She had no one else in the end but him. And he would make sure of it. But for now, there were more pressing matters at hand. His mother's near panic was the most concerning.
It was nearly Herculean—but how his mother didn't fly off the handle. She had managed to quell her tantrum long enough for the two of them to leave. But only barely. Mykhol could see the cracks already breaking through as panic and anxiety flushed quickly to his mother's face.
"This is going to ruin everything!" She exploded, her shoulders trembling."She is completely unhinged." And with that, she spun around to look at them both, fangs bared in distress. "What are we going to do? Our plans–"
"Her Empress is going to wait."His father, logical as always, repeated. But that's precisely the wrong thing to say to her right now. Funda immediately smacked his arm sharply, making him wince.
"I know what she said, you dolt! I was standing right next to you," She hissed.
"Mother, please don't hit him." Mykhol's voice was steady, deliberately so, to counter hers. He stepped between them just as she raised her hand again. Her wrist twitched mid-air, stopping only at the sight of possibly striking him instead of his father.
That hesitation—at least—was something. But just as quickly, her fury crumbled into a wash of tears. Her eyes were wet and shiny with panic as she turned back to him, anger dissolving into desperation.
"How can you be so calm about this, Mykhol?" Her voice cracked. "The resolution with Pave could take years!" She clutched at her throat."What about our careful plans- that long, anything could happen?"
She covered her face, half-sobbing into her hands.
"Do you know how hard it will be to keep everyone on our side? The upkeep it takes to continue securing their support for you? It's already shaken by your change of plans to have that giant queen's backing. But now, with His Majesty stepping in to aid her?" Her voice broke. "This is—How can you be so calm? Did you already know she was going to do this? Prolong any marriages?"
His mother lowered her hands just enough to see Mykhol's gaze shift down. The subtle movement betrayed him, revealing the truth without so many words.
Her breath hitched. "You did."
She was utterly beside herself, her frantic gaze darting to his father. "Mykhol, how long did you know? Why didn't you tell us!?"
"I only knew about it recently," he admitted, his tone even but cold. "But I didn't think she'd commit to it." And, truly, it had surprised him that Ana was so steadfast. "I thought she'd change her mind after her first blood finished."
Funda scoffed. "Well, clearly she didn't. Worse. She made it a damn declaration to the whole court!"
Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as the frustration bled back in.
"There won't be any way to announce your engagement to her. This is setting everything back—Mykhol, it might just be easier if we go with another option. Just get rid of her entirely and—"
"No." His voice was so sharp, so final, that even he was surprised by the sheer force of it. The heat, the darkness swelling in his chest at the very idea—he couldn't keep it in.
His parents blinked at him, utterly taken aback. His mother's lips parted in shock, while his father adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowing slightly in consideration.
Mykhol took a slow breath, reining himself in. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. Restrained.
"I said no." His tone brooked no argument. "We stick to my plan."
His eyes shifted to look over the room. Finding the few stragglers still left to meander. The dire disappointment and defeat were so evident on their faces. Now that marriage was off the table. It was clear what their intentions were for.
Mykhol broke into a sly smile, seeing one such vampire in particular. The pale look and devastation marred the overly confident man that had been a sore in his side for too long, Duke Zaver. The vampire was already in middle age, but he suddenly seemed years older and worn down. The shock must have hit him directly to the heart.
"Ana, really," Mykhol laughed softly, "She is more effective than we could ever be."
How long will it take before they start dropping off? Days? Weeks? Hours? Mykhol could already imagine it wouldn't be long. He laughed again, seeing that his laughter stirred Duke Zaver. The bearded man clenched up and turned on his heel. His rich gown flowed, staggered, and strangled him as he walked without grace.
"My son?" His mother swallowed, finding his laughter confusing. His father pushed up his glasses, unsure what else to do. Mykhol only laughed again.
"This is a blessing. Anastasia has managed to eliminate those pests where we've been struggling. I will have no competition."
For now, His mind flickered back to the King's sudden greeting of the Celbests, suspicion curling in his gut. Was that just a typical greeting? Or was he… pushing them forward?
Mykhol's fingers twitched at the thought.
Was the King truly arrogant enough to think that boy could replace him? That he could be the one standing at Ana's side instead? The very idea made his stomach turn.
You think you dare have a chance with my Ana—
"Son, A blessing?"His mother placed a careful hand on his shoulder, tracking his expression. Following his gaze. "But how?"
Mykhol exhaled slowly, steadying his voice. "Just trust me, Mother. Father," He dismissed, taking his mother's hand into the crook of his arm. Suddenly, he wanted to leave this place.
"Waiting a little longer will do us no harm," he smiled, giving one last fleeting look over the stragglers—the would-be suitors.
Emphasis on the 'would be'. Unlike him.
Let them fall away. Let them grow frustrated, restless, desperate. The fewer rivals around her, the more space there was for him to reclaim his hold.
Mykhol almost laughed at the simplicity of it. Ana had unknowingly cleared the board for him, eliminating the competition without him needing to lift a finger.
And as for waiting?
At least that was one good thing about opportunists, Mykhol thought, his satisfaction simmering beneath his skin. Opportunists moved on to whatever looked best. They had no patience like him. And he was a very patient kind of man.
And I will remain here long after all of you. Mykhol was more than sure of it. He would always be here, even with the king's meddling or if that pipsqueak was being pushed forward as a candidate. It didn't change a damn thing.
Ana needed him. Through all the years, he had been the one at her side when no one else would be. He had held her when she cried, spoken to her when the silence became too heavy, shielded her from the worst of their world when others turned away. He was the only one who had never shied from her silver hair, never treated her like she was lesser for it. While others whispered behind her back, he had embraced her, fallen for her—the scent of sandalwood forever imprinted in his mind.
So of course, she would pick him.
Who else was there? His fingers twitched at the thought.
The only real threat was the king. That damn man, always meddling, always watching, always reminding Ana of things she would be better off forgetting. And that whelp of a brother—Nicoli. That boy was nothing but an inconvenience, but if he got in the way…
No. No one would get in the way.
Ana was resisting now, but that only meant he would have to be more obvious. More drastic until she had no choice but to see the truth that had been there all along.
She may have declared her intent to wait, but in the end, it would only make it all the more satisfying when she finally gave in.
He could be patient. He could enjoy being patient. Because in the end, she would have no one but him. Just like he wanted. All he wanted.
"Our plan is still on track." He wasn't going anywhere.