Nick didn’t share his mate’s distaste, but being born into royalty had its perks, such as acclimating to the demands and obligations of public service. He mightily resisted the urge to reach for the locket around his neck and instead regarded Benjic with a calm, cool stare. “You mean to see the mating pact you forged with my parents on my behalf fulfilled.”
“What part of no do you fail to understand? Nick won’t marry your son.” Lydia jumped to her feet and shoved Benjic off the arm of the couch. “He doesn’t have to, and who says he wants to be your stupid tribe spokesman anyway?”
“Lydia,” Nick said, warming at her instant defense and gladdened when Rolan, too, leapt to his feet beside her. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Rolan and Arit snarled in unison.
Swallowing down his amusement, Nick stood, and his heart skipped a beat when Arit immediately pushed to his feet to join him. Instinct won out. Every time. Rather than wallowing in yet another sign their mating heat could transform into something more than lust, Nick grabbed Lydia’s hand and gently pulled her away from Benjic. “You’re right. Trying to pressure me and Arit isn’t okay, but it doesn’t matter.” He sighed. “I won’t be their spokesman, so the price he demands I pay for it isn’t important.” He glared at Benjic. “I’m not buying what you’re selling. Neither is your son.”
Flabbergasted, the elder gaped at him. “You don’t want to be crowned emperor?”
“I won’t be your tool.” When Nick reached for Arit’s hand, his mate’s firm grip lightened the weight Nick carried every moment of every day of his harrowing return to the tribes. “We won’t be bribed. Or manipulated.”
“No? You’re saying no.” Benjic scowled, his voice ringing with disbelief. “No to restoring the legacy of your bloodline. No to more status and authority than you’ve experienced since you were a boy. No to—”
“Nick would never allow himself to become a puppet of your corrupt, power-hungry council,” Lydia said, tone cold and unyielding.
His best friend knew him well. “She’s right. I wouldn’t and I won’t.”
Arit stared at him, eyebrows raised quizzically. “You won’t?”
Benjic glowered. “You don’t realize what you’re giving up. What you’re throwing away.”
Nick begged to disagree. He knew precisely the future the elder and his cronies had doubtlessly laid out for him and he couldn’t be less interested. In remaining emperor? Yes. He desperately wanted to keep his throne, but not on Benjic’s terms…even when some of the elders’ terms coincided with what Nick increasingly suspected might be best for him, for the mate whose hand grasped his, and for the tribes. He wouldn’t sacrifice his integrity for the shallow mockery of a role the rebels plotted for him, not a chance. If nothing else, he owed his ancestors better than a bargain to hang on to flimsy scraps of feigned authority. His duty to his station and to his people required more.
He smiled, furtively rubbing the bump of the locket beneath his shirt. “No thanks.”
Chapter Eight
Against his better judgment, Arit shuffled toward the imperial suite later that night. He’d tried to stay away. After the bombshell of Nick turning down the chance to hang on to his crown, Arit had left his guests with his capable staff in the hall to shift and run as his wolf. Sometimes reconnecting with his animal nature helped him process issues that perplexed him or, at the very least, gave him a release valve for the stress and pressure building inside him.
He’d ranged the mountain, racing to the camp to check on his guides and beyond. Where the trees and vegetation thinned, and snow blanketed the rocky passes where the arctic blast of the wind burned his lungs, so high few shifters roamed or explored, Arit found the space to think.
It hadn’t helped.
The questions chasing him up the mountain had followed him back down it when the cold had finally settled into his bones and forced him to seek shelter. In the thrall of his mating heat, Arit had known he couldn’t rely on his wolfen instincts to unravel the mysteries that taunted him, but he’d hoped. Fruitlessly.
His only shot at finding the answers lay beyond the imperial suite doors to which he walked with leaden feet and slumped shoulders. Goosebumps pebbled his skin, though he’d dragged clothes on as soon as he’d returned from his run. The warmer temperature of the lodge, set for the comfort of its lone human guest, should have slicked him with sweat, but he shivered instead. Anxiety screamed through him. As he stared at the sturdy doors of the suite, he knew there was nowhere else he would rather be, though.
That was the problem. One of many.
Maybe he’d discover a solution or two behind those doors.
Heart thudding, Arit clenched his fingers to form a fist. He lifted it and knocked before he lost his nerve.
“Come in, Arit.”
Muffled through solid oak, the husky order lit Arit’s blood on fire and intensified his trembling. Swamped by his longing, he froze. Couldn’t move or whisper a word in reply.
Emperor or not, Nick was still a shifter and one involved in their mating heat as intimately as Arit. He would’ve heard Arit’s thundering heartbeat, sensed his mate nearby, perhaps so attuned to Arit that Nick might’ve scented Arit’s arousal from within the suite. Arit didn’t know or especially care how Nick knew Arit stood in the hallway rather than someone—anyone—else. What mattered was the quiet plod of footsteps approaching and the turn of one of the doorknobs. The left side of the double doors cracked open. “It’s unlocked,” Nick said from the dark interior of the suite. “I told you to come in.”
Arit shuddered anew.
Nick’s inky silhouette retreated from the door he left gaping a few stingy inches, and with a little distance from his intended mate, Arit could breathe again. Bolstering his resolve, he walked into the suite. After shutting the door behind him, he marched to a floor lamp nearest the suite’s entrance. Claiming the piece had originated from the Crystal Palace, Benjic had sent the lamp from the capitol to Arit’s dad to add to Arit’s legacy when Arit was a roly-poly whelp. Like Arit’s relationship with his sire, the lamp was more decorative than functional, but the dim glow lit one corner of the suite which soothed Arit’s jagged nerves. He glanced around. The crown prince stood before the suite’s wide picture window looking out and onto the rear patio as well as the majestic mountains beyond. Narrower windows flanking the main one had been cranked open, and cold wind coming off the peaks cooled the suite, providing relief from the lodge’s overbearing heat.