The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,103

the position of beta he could do without. Good thing he wouldn’t be around long to deal with it.

He didn’t dare look at Meira, who stood silently beside Gorgon, her arm linked with his. He didn’t need to. Her worries were his own.

I can’t keep this up for much longer.

Lying to the king, avoiding his mate so that he could let her go, pretending he could still lead these men. Samael sent up prayers that the gods would strike him down here and now.

Gorgon moved to the next group of black dragon shifters standing loosely together. Pulled along by the king, Meira glanced back at Samael, who followed with reluctance dragging at each step.

What are you doing?

Though her lips didn’t move, her voice floated through his head in the softest of whispers and Samael almost tripped over his own feet, lungs cinching tight. He could hardly discern that the thought was hers rather than his own, but his dragon rumbled in his head, enjoying the sound of her voice.

Shit. Being able to hear each other’s thoughts was one of the signs that their bond was solidifying. How was that possible given the ocean that separated them, that he’d put between them himself? Unfortunately, her hair was down, so he couldn’t check her neck to see if his brand had appeared. Because if it had, he couldn’t go forward with the plans he’d formulated.

They moved onto the next group. This time, Meira didn’t look back. In fact, now she seemed to be avoiding glancing his direction at all. Samael tried to convince himself that was what he wanted.

Sam…why won’t you talk to me?

The next flitter of a thought in her voice about took him to his knees, but Meira didn’t pause, and the path he’d set for himself wasn’t going to change.

A step at a time, he forced himself to keep going.

For the next two hours, Gorgon continued on, introducing not only Meira to each group, but also mentioning Samael’s role in her safety and his new role as beta for the clan. Each time they did, the same questions were asked. Where had they been? What had the plan been? The sign that they should move on came when a person in the group they talked to brought up a petty complaint—their trash hadn’t been collected in days, or the pipes broke in their bathroom and no one had come to fix them.

By the time they finished, Samael’s hand ached from shaking, and every muscle in his neck and shoulders screamed with tension. At least the silence had disappeared in favor of a neutral buzz of voices. By this point, he was numb from forcing his true emotions to a dark corner of his mind, and he wasn’t sure if the buzz was positive or negative or if the guarded smiles directed his way were sincere.

How much worse for Meira as an empath.

Gorgon turned to Samael. “I’m ready to return to my rooms.”

“My king,” Samael acknowledged.

Shifting the smallest part of him, he sent thoughts ahead to his team to clear the path. The king had yet to try to shift since his return to the clan, which meant sticking to the human-size walkways. Leading the small band, Samael escorted Gorgon and Meira through the halls and back spaces of the mountain. The deeper they moved, the more instinct told him something was wrong. Not dangerous. Not a threat. Just wrong.

He almost turned to Meira to ask if she had any insights, could feel emotions ahead of her maybe, even had his mouth open, but realized in time that their relationship wasn’t casual like that anymore and snapped it shut with a clack of teeth.

About halfway there, Meira’s gasp had Samael jerking around, already assuming a defensive position, only to find Gorgon slumped against the wall, Meira trying to hold him up.

“What happened?” he demanded as he rushed to his king, looping Gorgon’s arm over his shoulders and hefting him to standing.

“A little dizzy,” the king slurred.

Dammit. They shouldn’t have held the clan meeting today. Gorgon hadn’t been ready.

“We need to get him back to the room quickly,” Meira said. “Is there a mirror anywhere close by?”

Samael considered where they’d stopped. The buzzing sound of the massive generators that powered the entire mountain surrounded him. He’d taken them the back way near the inner mechanisms of the mountain—an area he knew from childhood, when his father had worked down here keeping the plumbing functioning, such as it was in that era.