The Marriage Game

In Which Camila Makes Some Rules

"So," Camila jogged a few steps to catch up to Declan. "Why did you save me?"

They'd been trudging along in silence for a while. Spoon wandered happily from one interesting smell to the next, her stubby tail wagging vigorously, but Camila and Declan walked in sullen silence. Camila's phone was back at the palace, charging on her bedside table, so she had no idea whether it had been minutes or hours since they left. When it was quiet, she couldn't help but think about her parents.

Did the vampires kill them quickly? Or did they draw it out, torture them, make them beg for death? Did they drain their blood or just rip their hearts out, eager to end the battle?

When she wasn't thinking about her parents, she was thinking about Alex. 

She wanted to believe that he was alive. That the vampires had seen him as an ally and by some stroke of luck, they'd let him live. She wanted to laugh with him and hug him and finish every Marvel movie by his side. They had just become friends again. She couldn't lose him now, not like this. Camila wanted to scream, to tear at her hair, and to beat the floor with her fists.

Instead, she talked to Declan.

"I think you know why, Camila."

"Actually, no, I don't. Are you planning on ransoming me for something? Trying to prove a point? I don't know a thing about you."

He glanced back at her, the light from the flashlight reflecting against his emerald eyes. "You'll just have to wait and find out."

Maybe talking to him was more trouble than it was worth. Camila adjusted the bag—the straps dug into her shoulders with every step—and started walking again.

When she was thirteen, her mother started teaching her etiquette. She'd spent hours learning the proper fork to eat your salad with, when it was appropriate to curtsy and when a simple handshake would suffice, and everything in between. An entire year focused on how to make proper conversation.

Silence is a missed opportunity, her mother had told Camila every morning. Avoid it at all costs.

"You know I'm never actually going to mate with you, right?" Her words echoed in the narrow corridor. "In case that's what you're waiting for."

Declan didn't even glance in her direction, but his body tensed. "Really," he said after a moment. "Why is that?"

"Because you're a horrible person who got my parents killed. You didn't actually think this was going to work out for you?" Deep down, Camila knew she should stop pushing. Like it or not, this place was a maze and Declan was her only way out. But she was so angry, so frustrated with her own inability to do anything, and it was easier than being sad.

She laughed, mockingly. "That's it, isn't it? You thought, what, because you're my mate everything you've done will just be forgiven? I'll just roll over and let you claim me, give up everything I care about and be a good little criminal by your side? Goddess, you're pathetic."

Declan stopped walking.

He turned towards her. Fast as lightning, his hand flattened against her stomach, pinning her to the stony cave wall.

Her breath stuttered. Her heart thumped against her ribcage.

Now that she was securely in his grasp, Declan stilled. His eyes were dark. Dangerous.

The dress was ripped, torn, and thin with wear. Camila felt every crease and callus of his palm flush against her stomach.

"I might be pathetic," He lowered his head to her neck, breathing in deeply, his mouth a mere inch away from her skin. Camila trembled. "But when I claim you, you'll let me."