The Usurper's Throne

5

"Naomi!"

I blinked. The furniture was spinning. I waited a few seconds and realized I was staring up at the glass ceiling. There were no stars, but the clouds were pretty. Three sets of eyes were staring down at me, and a hand was cradling my head.

The dark green eyes were familiar, shaking me. I blinked a few times and managed to push the memory away.

I was back. And on my back, Damien's hand under my neck.

I pushed myself up quickly as Damien's hands slowed me down. "Slow down, dove," he said harshly. Finally, he relented and helped me stand. "What the hell was that?"

"Uh," I said. "I'm not too sure." My heart was beating frantically and I violently tried to push down the panic rising in me. "I just had a really strong...memory. Of Leviathan."

"Classic PTSD. Flashbacks and disassociation."

I turned to see who had spoken. My jaw dropped. Elijah.

Damien growled and stepped between us, keeping his hand on me. "Bug off, prince. She's mine."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "I know. She knows. But I do live here, you know."

Damien's grip on my shoulder only tightened. I tried to shrug off his heavy grip—it was suffocating—but Damien refused to budge. The familiarity and warmth with Elijah were gone, replaced with only a sad curiosity. I shook my head. Why had Damien stolen me?

Damien suddenly turned to face me and set a gentle hand on my forehead. "I caught you before you hit your head. No fever. Are you okay?" he asked. I took a deep breath and stared into his dark green eyes. They betrayed sincerity and a bit of fear.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine. Sorry."

He smiled and trailed his hand down my cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for, dove." He gently kissed my forehead and pulled me against him. I could have melted into his protective embrace. I took one last shaky breath. I was safe. I stepped back and turned to see who else had witnessed my embarrassment.

It was Elijah and another man. The man was older, yet his hair was still as black as Elijah's. His eyes only held a sad curiosity. "Usurper, this is my uncle, Roger. Roger, this is the usurper and Naomi."

"Alpha Naomi, my mate," Damien corrected sharply, jutting out his hands to shake the older man's hand.

"Alpha Naomi, your marked," Roger corrected kindly. A ghost of a smile pranced over his lips, but in a court of law, there would have been no proof. "It is a pleasure to meet you, alpha Damien." Roger turned to me and offered a hand. I saw Damien's jaw clench.

I reached out my hand on instinct, forgetting that they were yellow and green.

Roger gently took it and shook it. He gently kissed the top of it. Damien growled fiercely, but Roger ignored him. "It is an absolute pleasure. I hope this is not inappropriate, but your wings are a beauty to behold." He bowed low and a blush crept over my face.

"Naomi," Elijah said quietly, "you should have a doctor look at those hands."

"Berry did," I said in a low tone, turning to him as his uncle gently released my hand.

A ghost of a frown passed over his face, too. Now I knew where he got it from. "She is one of the best, but she does not have the medical supplies that our clinic does. Please—"

"Shut up," Damien said sharply, shoving me behind him. Behind his broad shoulders, I couldn't even see Elijah. "I will take care of her. As her mate. It was nice to meet you, Roger, but please be on your way."

Elijah's fists clenched. "This is not your castle, usurper."

"Give me a week," Damien snarled. I stiffened at his words.

Silence.

"Technically, the land is owned by the state of Oregon. Of course, they have no idea there is a castle here, but if you two boys are getting mixed up on technicalities, perhaps that might offer some insight," Roger said.

I giggled at the tension. Everyone looked at me and another ghost smile passed over Roger's face. Damien cast another dirty glance at Elijah before ushering me between the stairways and into a large hallway.

"Naomi," Damien said. "We are in a castle full of people trying to kill us. A bit of respect from my Luna might do some good."

I took a deep breath to ward off another giggle. "Where are we?" I finally asked.

"These are assorted rooms; a library, the kitchens, a mail room. Halls branch out from here. Honestly beyond this is a maze. The room at the end is the great hall. That is where the throne sits, where balls are held, and where meals are shared."

"Multipurpose room," I commented. "Nice. Economical. Psychedelic flooring. Black and white tiles?"

Finally, a small smile crossed Damien's face. "Let me show you outside and then we will go for a meal." I nodded, anxious to be outside. I wanted to fly so bad. It was a tension in my stomach, a yearning to feel the wind pass over me like a delicate caress. To sense the wind and change with it.

We exited out a glass door and I surveyed the outside forest. There was a concrete patio with a fire pit. Several metal chairs circled it. A bouquet of flowers sat on the edge of the patio. I walked over and examined them. "In memory of Emory Rook. Gone too soon." I turned to Damien. "Damien, someone died here a couple weeks ago?" I asked, shocked.

He nodded sadly. "Yes. Right after that was when I visited you. She died so young, and I couldn't bear the thought of that happening to you?"

"What happened?" I asked, still a bit shocked.

"Insanity. She threw herself off the balcony. Died on impact."

"That's horrible," I muttered. Damien nodded. I looked at him and saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Yup. Just horrible."

Something twitched in my brain and, like a radio skipping through channels, I heard a voice in my head.

It had to be done.

I winced at the sudden intrusion and Damien grabbed my arm. "You okay, Naomi?" I nodded.

I glanced again at Damien. Was it sadness in his eyes?

Or did I see a sliver of regret?

"Yeah," I said warily. "Fine."

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Hello, all! What do you think? Will Naomi figure out Damien's dark secret before he fights the Wereking?