“It’s been a few decades.” I drummed my fingers on the armrest of my chair like it would take away the sting of the grief. It didn’t. The problem with living for eternity was that vampire hearts were made to love just as long. Loss wasn’t easy.
“Then why now?” She picked up a dainty clipboard and pen, her spine ramrod straight as she jotted down a few notes.
Why now? Wasn’t that the question I’d been asking myself since I’d made the awkward call for this appointment? I shifted, mentally cursing myself for putting on a three-piece suit for the meeting. Leathers were far more comfortable, but also had a tendency to scare the shit out of the civilian population. Besides, part of this process was convincing Gloria that I was civilized to begin with.
I wasn’t. Not by a fucking longshot. I just kept my shit buttoned up so it didn’t explode all over the people I cared about.
“I’m not sure, honestly. Mostly a feeling that it’s time. My friends have all recently found their mates—” In fact, Olivia and Ransom were still off on vacation, celebrating their new mark.
“Oh, you know I can’t guarantee that,” Gloria interrupted, her eyes widening slightly. “While my abilities do assure that the match will be pleasing to both parties, I can’t promise a mating bond. You know how rare they are within our species, and though warriors are more likely to bond, I simply don’t have the power to make that happen.”
I blinked, appreciating her honesty, especially given that my particular abilities inked any lies spoken around me straight onto my forearms. “Right. Of course. I’m not under the assumption that you can pluck mating bonds out of thin air. I’m just hoping for a…” I swallowed. “A suitable match.”
Fuck my brain, but the image of Jocelyn twirled right across it, her lavender hair tied up in something she called space braids as she flashed a grin at me, laughter dancing in her violet eyes. I ran my hand over my left forearm, where the last little white lie she’d told was still inked into my skin.
I love roses.
Damn, that woman loved putting new words on my arms just for the fun of it. She was a candy-coated hurricane with a million-dollar smile and a tongue sharper than the switchblade in my pocket.
Witches. And the heir to the throne? She was the most impetuous and reckless of them all. Why our princess Avianna had decided to befriend her was beyond me. Lachlan’s mate, Valor, was Jocelyn’s friend, too, which meant I ran into the little tempest far more than I cared to.
“Yes, suitable was the word you mentioned most,” she noted, glancing at her clipboard. “Along with honest, kind, trustworthy, and…tolerant, though you might have to explain that one to me.”
I cleared my throat. How fucking awkward was this? “Being in the service to our king means that I’m not always home by five.”
“Understood.” Gloria smiled and gave me a nod. “I’m assuming you’d like your match to be of appropriate social standing?”
Like a thoroughbred. Maybe this was a bad idea.
You’ve put off her last wishes for long enough, and given the rate of destruction in this war you might not have much longer.
“Considering I spend most evenings surrounded by aristocrats, that would probably be for the best.” It would be easier for her that way. The aristocrats could be cruel, and given Cassandra—the highest ranking female besides the queen—was under scrutiny given what her father had just pulled at the Sorokin’s, any newcomer would be under the microscope.
In that way, seeking out a match was almost cruel on my part. She’d have to be strong enough to hold her own against the gossipmongers.
Zorin had died for his treason—Alek saw to that, but Cassandra had been innocent in his activities. I’d questioned her myself…before she’d made a move on me.
She just wanted the protection of being with an Assassin.
“I already have a few names in mind,” Gloria said, her eyes shifting back and forth as she thought.
“That quick?” My stomach sank. This is what you wanted, right?
“Absolutely.” Her smile broadened. “You’re an Onyx Assassin, and an aristocrat in your own right. To put it simply, you’re a catch. I’ve got a good read on you, and I’ll meet with some prospective partners this week to see if their energy is a good match for yours.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I got out of there as quickly as possible, throwing my jacket in the back seat and sliding behind the wheel of my McLaren with more frustration than satisfaction. This was what I was supposed to do, what members of the aristocracy did when the time came. I was hundreds of years old, and no mating mark had appeared on any female I’d ever touched. If I wanted to honor my mother’s wishes and continue our family name, I’d have to settle for a marriage instead of a mate. This was the logical course of action.