The Usurper's Throne

1

The drive was quiet. The desert eventually turned into forest, the endless golden sea turning into looming wooden guard, ever vigilant to guard their murky depths. The interior of the car was dark, only lit by bright blue lights and the GPS screen. The dark leather seats seemed to consume all light. There were no streetlights, which meant we could only see as far as our headlights stretched. The shadows of trees made the woods look like they were dancing. Passing another car was rare.

I felt like I had swallowed a beehive and the angry, winged insects had stung every part of me on their frantic escape out of my body.

The alpha sat in the driver's seat. His presence was heavy; he held his hand on the gear shift casually and leaned back, confident of the space he took up. His scent was strong, yet I felt strange to notice it. It wasn't cologne; it was deeper, more animalistic. Honestly, he smelled like a freshly washed dog: like earth and rain. He cast a sideway glance at me with his dark green eyes, and I met it.

Butterflies. Desire. Yearning. Fear.

The darkness made his golden hair appear a bluish bronze. He could have been a model, a bodybuilder, a surfer.

A usurper.

And here I was, his mate.

Damien wasn't my true mate. I recalled the frantic interaction moments before he marked me as his own. I brought my hand up to my neck, brushing the stiff, bruised digits over the healed crescent on my neck. It had healed almost instantly, but the memory was a dull ache.

"You cannot have her," Elijah snarled. "If you do anything, you will have crossed the old magic. Not only will your forfeit your magic, you will lose your life."

"You think I cannot have her? She was the subject of a Hunt."

Elijah's eyes widened.

"She is mine to do with as I please. I made the Alpha's Claim."

Elijah, my true mate, was disconnected. I should have known. The desire for Damien was always there; yet, around him I felt tired. Elijah made me feel alive and energized. Potent and desirable.

Damien made me feel small and weak and trapped.

Yet, we were bound. Even after being marked for only a few hours, I knew I was being drawn to him. I couldn't help it. As much as he made me feel trapped, I felt protected. Damien wouldn't let me get hurt.

I glanced at the digital clock and saw that Thursday had officially started.

"Damien, what did you do?" I finally asked.

His hand went from the gear shift to cover mine. I felt small golden sparks from where our hands touched. Despite my hesitation, I didn't flinch away. His touch—it felt good.

"I made it official," he said simply. When I looked up, I saw his straight white teeth fixed in a smile. His hand gently took my hand, kissing it gently. "Naomi, I love you," he said. "There was no other way."

I gently pulled my hand back slowly. His touch was making my head spin.

Damien sighed. "Naomi. The king wants you dead. This is the only way I could protect you. He can't touch a challenger or his mate. Now, you can live with me. Safe. Isn't that what you wanted?"

I couldn't honestly tell him no. I didn't know what I wanted.

Well, once I have the throne, we can figure that out together.

I jerked away at the invasion in my mind. His voice was smooth in my brain, like silk windings its way around my skull, tantalizingly tingly.

"You should sleep," he said, reaching for my hand again.

I jerked it back and yelped as I slammed the tender appendage against the car door. The noise was harsh compared to the quiet of the scenery. Pain radiated up my arm as I took a deep breath to keep from crying. "I will tell you what I don't want," I said, frustration building from the pain. "I don't want you making me sleep or changing my emotions. Or telling me not to move."

He frowned. "I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I was trying to help."

I clutched my hand to my chest. The pain was changing my anger to exhaustion. "Yes, well, it feels manipulative," I gritted out as the pain began to fade.

There was no hesitation. "Okay," he said. "Deal. No manipulation." He paused, casting a friendly smirk my way. "I'd offer to shake on it, but maybe we hold off on that for a bit."

His cavalier attitude annoyed me. "And I'm not having sex with you," I said sharply.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously not pleased with that stipulation. Good. "Naomi, you are my mate. There is an implication."

"I barely know you, Damien," I said.

He nodded. "Of course. When you're ready."

I leaned back into my seat. "I'm going to sleep," I said. "Of my own will," I said, glaring at him.

"Let me help," he said, reaching back.

"D-Damien!" I stammered angrily, my heart beginning to pound frantically.

My fury deflated when I saw him handing me a blanket. He chuckled. "Naomi, you will find that I am a man of my word. No manipulation. Just non-sexual hugs and blanket offerings."

I stared at the blanket. I didn't think I could grab it with my claw hands. Sighing, he pulled over and unfolded the blanket, tossing it over me. My body was begging for sleep, and I was happy to oblige. I glanced into the woods. When I was a child, I dreamed of adventure in the woods; tonight, they only hid nightmares.

We started moving again. A few seconds. A car passed.

"Thank you," I said.

"You are welcome, dove," he said. "I'll wake you when we're there."