The Marriage Game

In Which They Talk...and It Actually Goes Okay

"Sure." Camila rolled over so she was lying on her stomach, propped up by her forearms in an attempt to conceal her missing bra. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well-" Declan sat down beside her. "Us, I suppose."

Camila looked away. Sure, Declan was attractive—to the point where it was hard to look away from him—and technically, her soulmate, although that particular coincidence seemed like a cosmic mistake.

But he'd also threatened to shoot her in the leg. He was involved with a group that killed her parents. He'd ruthlessly killed two vampires—even though they had attacked them—and Camila didn't know where he was taking her, what he was planning to do to her, and even whether he'd try and save her if the Vindicators decided she'd be better off dead.

Looking at him was almost painful: sparking every emotion from anger to lust, fear to joy. It was easiest not to think about.

"Declan-" She glanced over and hesitated. His hands were clasped together, his forearms resting on his thighs, and he looked at her with something sad—regret, maybe. "...There's never going to be an us."

"Why not?" Declan didn't flinch. He held her gaze steadily.

"Usually people don't kidnap their mates! Or- drag them around like possessions! You never-" The words spilled from her mouth, unfiltered and honest. Camila tried to recall her poise and elegance, the never-ending well of patience she'd developed with years of lengthy political meetings. Miles away from the palace, dressed in dingy sweatpants and a T-shirt that had seen better days, she felt like a different person altogether.

"...I really screwed up, didn't I?" He laughed grimly, the smile not reaching his eyes.

"Yeah. You did." Camila sighed. "I don't think we should talk about this."

"Because you still think this- marriage plan of yours is going to work out? Save the kingdom somehow? I hate to break it to you, but people need more than money. They need change, new laws, maybe even new rulers."

"I think you managed to get rid of the old ones. I imagine you're thrilled about that, just absolutely ecstatic that you don't have to deal with my fucking parents anymore," Camila spat, her cheeks an angry red. She dug her hands into the covers, desperate for something to hurt, something to hit. "Money would help. It's better than murdering people and robbing banks and hoping that it somehow-"

"That's not what we do."

"No!" Camila pulled herself up to a seated position, her jaw clenched in anger. "That's exactly what you do. And you manipulate people and you're never straightforward and you- you say you have good intentions and then you always go and do something horrible." She sucked in a deep breath. "You're just wrong, Declan. I don't want to talk about this."

Declan didn't reply. He didn't even look at her. His eyes were unfocused, lost in thought. "I'll be back in a second. Wait here." He stood and walked into the kitchen.

Camila stared at his retreating back, mouth gaping. Of course he wouldn't deign to offer her an apology. That would be too civil, too polite.

She let out a frustrated growl and grabbed both chocolate candies resting on the pillow. The wrapping was a pale, metallic pink, and each chocolate was shaped in the form of a heart. She ripped the aluminum off with a vengeance, biting into soft milk chocolate in hopes that it would make her feel better.

It didn't.

When Declan returned, he carried two mugs. A faint trail of steam rose from the mouth of each mug.

"Truce?" He offered her one. Inside was a rich hot chocolate, dotted with marshmallows. Something tugged at Camila's heart; Serena used to make hot chocolate whenever she was sad.

"No promises," Camila mumbled, but she took the mug. It was a pale blue color, rounder at the bottom than it was at the top, with a picture of a sleeping bear and a thought bubble that read, in neat black letting: coffee first. It tasted warm and chocolatey, with a faint hint of peppermint.

"I know I'm not-" He paused, sighed, and ran a hand through his damp hair. "I know I'm not what you wanted in a mate. But Camila... you have to know, I think you're perfect. And I've been focused on keeping you with me-"

"Against my will." Camila cut in.

"Yeah," he sighed. "That's what I'm trying to say. I've been a bit-"

"Of an ass."

"You can stop finishing my sentences now, thank you." His lip curled upwards slightly. "I mean I've been a bit controlling and I've made some bad choices. And yeah, maybe I've been a bit of an ass. I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to marry some stuffed up aristocrat. And I thought, if I just kept you with me, away from everything else, that eventually- you'd want me. With the mating bond, and all."

Camila clasped her hands in her lap. "...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said, the words rough. "I'm going to do better. That's all."

He bent his head, staring down at the polished mahogany floor. Then, when she didn't say anything, Declan stood. He walked to the duffel bag, and using a small iron key in his pocket, unlocked it.

Camila watched him carefully. She'd thought she put everything in the appropriate space, but she wasn't sure. Declan's brow furrowed slightly and he frowned, shook his head slightly, and grabbed the sleeping bag.

"Mind tossing me a pillow?" he asked.

Camila obliged. Then, because she was feeling generous, she went ahead and tossed him a second one. "Just in case," she mumbled, her cheeks flushed.

I think you're perfect.

His words echoed in her head and it took every shred of strength she had to keep from grinning wildly. She felt like a schoolgirl, finding out her crush liked her back. Convinced that it was the mating bond at work, Camila pushed his words to the back of her memory.

When the moon had risen in the sky, a delicate silver crescent hanging over them, Camila rolled onto her side. Lying down on the bed, it was difficult to see Declan, but she could hear the gentle flow of his breathing.

"Declan," she whispered, only half-sure he was awake. Her eyes drooped shut, but her thoughts bounced around her brain like the rubber bouncy balls she and Alex collected as children.

He mumbled something unintelligible in response.

"Declan," she said again. "You need to know. You and me? It's not going to happen."

He was quiet. For a moment, Camila was sure he was asleep and she hoped she hadn't woken him.

"We'll see," he spoke softly. Clearly. The words sounded like a promise.

"I'm serious Declan. I can't ever marry you."

She heard the soft rustling of the sleeping bag as he rolled over. Camila waited for him to reply, to argue with her.

He never did.

So... Declan's going to try to do better! Yay? Honestly, I think it'd be hard for him to do worse!

Do you believe he's telling Camila the truth?

Thank you for reading!

-Harley