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Dom grimaced, a look of barely disguised distaste crossing over his face like a strobing light, there and gone. “We celebrate.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GETTING OVER IT

Eventually they got things under control and the whole thing turned into almost a cocktail party in the owner’s box. It was surreal and perverse and oh so very druid.

The contenders were missing, both being tended to and healed and brought back into their right minds. Still, there was a good chance one or both of them would show up later to mingle like they hadn’t just tried to rip each other to shreds.

Everyone else with high rank was there, as well as most of the foreign dignitaries on my task force.

Christian and Caleb were conspicuously absent. They were already getting into position with Sven for our plan.

Dom held court next to what looked suspiciously like a throne. He’d placed his crown of antlers there. Who could blame him? It couldn’t have been easy to wear.

He was charming and suave, but there was an edge to his grace that left no doubt he could turn razor sharp on a dime. There was ever a warning there: Tread carefully. No matter how pleasant he behaved, you were still dealing with a deadly king.

He smoothly hosted the event with a proprietary hand on me, greeting everyone, fielding questions, conducting business like two of his closest friends hadn’t just clawed each other bloody.

He didn’t have to tell me to keep close to him. He was making a point by bringing me to this on his arm, and the point was better made if I stayed at his side.

The statement was further illustrated by his inability to keep his hands off me. He stroked my skin between the straps of my dress like he couldn’t stop, stroked my hair, brought my hand to his lips repeatedly, each touch a statement to everyone there and the message was direct: She is mine, and if you have a problem with her you’ll have to go through me.

I laid on some PDA too, and I told myself it was for the audience but the truth was touching him had always been a rare slice of heaven for me. The where and the when had never changed that, and the years apart had only heightened it.

Helen and Siobhan were in a corner of the room and talking closely with each other. It made my Spidey senses tingle, but who wouldn’t be paranoid to see two of your man’s exes getting along so well with each other meanwhile knowing they both despised you?

As though they heard my thoughts they both looked my way and then bent closer, talking and glancing at me rather obviously. I was clearly their hot topic of conversation.

Dom gripped my nape bringing my attention back to the task at hand, which was greeting more people and playing nice.

I murmured something polite to the druids I’d just been introduced to and tried my best not to look in the direction of Dom’s fan club.

Eventually that didn’t work as the two women approached us. Everyone had to greet the king eventually at a thing like this.

It didn’t go well.

“What is she doing here, Arch?” was how Siobhan had the nerve to begin.

“That’s a rude question, Siobhan,” Dom said in a chiding tone. He had a certain tone he only ever used with her, like she was a particularly exasperating younger relative. “Where are your manners?” The set-down made her fingertips tremble, and I knew she was close to snapping.

His hand was at my stomach, pressing me to him, my back into his side, his fingers threading through the straps of my dress to feel my skin. “Jillian and I have finally reconciled,” he continued. “It is well known that I have long wished for this.” His voice was soft, succinct and matter-of-fact but not unkind.

It was not Siobhan’s night. She looked like he’d slapped her. Helen looked like she’d just tasted something particularly bitter.

I didn’t feel sorry for either of them, and I kept my chin raised, staring them down.

He was mine again, and he’d always liked me best, neener neener.

I managed to keep most of my less productive thoughts in. In fact I stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Dom seemed to have things under control, and he’d always been better at diplomacy than I.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Siobhan asked, heartbreak in her voice. How many decades would it take this bitch to get a clue? Dom was not the type to lead anyone on, and I knew he’d always been particularly clear with her. “You know how I feel about her,” she added as though any of this had anything to do with her.

“And you know how I feel about her.” His voice was louder now, less kind. “I’ve never made a secret of it. And if you’d like to say something, that’s simple enough. Congratulations are in order.”

She took a few calming breaths looking straight at me, murder in her eyes. My own met hers and raised her one. As I’ve said, two is a number for love and hate, and there’s no point in doing any of it alone.

I smiled blandly, but my eyes weren’t bland. They were as cold and sharp as a knife.