Proposer (verb) to suggest; to offer; to propose

We were alone once again, now that her chosen two had finished their performance and left us.

Claire was standing at the window with a hand pressed to the cold glass, silently staring at the mountains beyond. Her heart rate had settled into a normal rhythm, which was pulsing from the bloodstone against my chest. 

I wished I knew what she was thinking after watching Tansy and Devlinn make love. 

I knew what I was thinking. 

Swallowing hard, my gaze settled on the strings of her bodice that were tied at the base of her spine. Right above the curve of her bottom. 

They were strings that needed pulling. Laces that needed loosening. 

And then there was her skin, so soft and creamy, hiding behind the curtain of lilac hair. 

Skin that needed the attention of lips and teeth and my very curious tongue. 

But I'd pledged not to touch her again, at least not like that. The only thing I'd be doing with her was that which I was allowed. To drink from her. But I didn't trust myself to put my lips against her skin, not right now, no matter how dry my throat was. 

As casually as I could, I plucked one of the moonflowers from a crystal vase and came to stand beside her at the window, staring out at the majesty beyond. 

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out, her warm breath fogging the glass, but otherwise didn't acknowledge me. 

Awkwardly, I extended the blossom to her and, steeling my nerve, asked, "Would you care to take a tour of the grounds? I can show you the greenhouse where the moonflowers were cut."

I was eager to show her my home. Her home. I wanted to show her all the places we'd talked about on the journey here. Those nights when we'd stayed up late, getting to know one another bit by bit.

"No," she said, softly shaking her head, eyes trained straight ahead. "I want to be alone."

Alone? But she looked so...sad. Standing in front of this window. 

I took a step closer to her, but she recoiled. "Please, Bastien," she whispered, meeting my gaze for the first time. 

I studied her face, trying to read what was going on in her head, and realized she wasn't alright. There was something wrong. And by the way she was acting, it was my fault.

And I think I knew why. 

"You're upset with me."

She pressed a too sweet smile on her face, then cast her attention back out the window. "No, my lord. Just tired."

I didn't know why she was lying. She might be tired, but that wasn't the only thing bothering her. She wouldn't have recoiled from me if she was sleepy. This was about the harem selection. 

"Claire..." I said as tenderly as I could. Not sure what I was going to say or how to frame my words, when I saw tears had welled in her eyes, and frustration furrowed her brows.

 "Of course I'm upset with you," she said, refusing to look at me. 

I'd caused her pain. Not physical pain, but emotional pain, by what I'd done. The reverberation of that pain lodged itself in my chest like a knife. As her mate, I wasn't supposed to hurt her. It was unbearable to hear I'd upset her like this. 

"Is there something I can do about it?" I asked, wanting to make this right. 

Hugging her arms to her chest, Claire shook her head, then turned her back on me. 

"Just leave, Bastien. Please. You've done enough today."

Every cell inside my body told me to go to her. To comfort her. To take away whatever pain she was experiencing, but that's not what she wanted from me. She despised me, for who I was and for leading an army that got her father killed, and there was nothing I could do to change her opinion.

My gaze fell to the black lace around her throat. The cursed necklace that she refused to take off, knowing she'd risked her life to provide for her sister. The same one that had tainted her blood with magick.

She was selfless. And here I was, being selfish. Just like everyone else in her life that had made her feel less than perfect.

That realization nearly brought me to my knees. 

I might be a prince, but I wasn't the right person to be this woman's mate. That much was plain. The gods had gotten this mating all wrong. I couldn't make her happy.

But I could promise her one thing.

"I promise I will not force dark witches on you again. Not until you are ready."

I backed away from her, step by step, wanting to do as she asked, but I stopped halfway to the door, needing to say something more—to apologize perhaps—then thought better of it and left her alone, as she'd requested.

She never turned around to face me, not even when I whispered, "I'm sorry," before closing the door behind me. 

Once I was outside her room, I found myself unable to leave. Stuck between wanting to go back inside to explain my actions and seeing to other matters that required my attention.

I tried to remind myself that Claire wasn't the only thing I should be worried about.

In two weeks, we were venturing into the Lawless Lands to meet with the factions of humans who were ready to come to terms for protection.

It meant negotiating the construction and placement of new chateaus and selecting representatives from each tribe who would move to the capital of the Conquered Territories to speak for their people.

But these negotiations weren't the only thing I needed to prepare for. There would be pushback from the occult. 

The witches of the Lawless Lands held no love for us vampires who were created by covens desiring peace. They battled as we once battled. Summoning demons at will and transforming into beasts when the moon was full. Practicing magick that the Blood Treaty had outlawed in our land. 

I knew these negotiations could turn bloody, and I needed to mentally prepare for battle.

But all the same, Claire inhabited my mind like ivy growing into crumbling brick. Twisting her vines around every inch of me until I was covered by thoughts of her and only her.

This twisted fantasy I was wrapped up in had to end. I couldn't live in both worlds. I had to make a choice. 

If I truly wanted to keep Claire to myself, I would hand Chateau Rose over to Tyson, tell Claire the truth about our mate bond, and take her to the capital.

But I didn't want that, and neither did she.

With one last look at her door, I decided to do the right thing. I needed to treat her as I would treat any sanguine partner. I'd rather live with my jealousy than her pain. 

I made my way down the grand staircase and to the office of the Madame of the Harem, an older woman by the name of Lena. She was in charge of managing the workers, making sure they had sufficient rest, medical treatment, and were properly trained.

She seemed surprised to see me twice in one day.

"How can I help you, my lord?"

The pain the next words caused me was nearly unbearable, but I forced myself to speak them.

"Have the men who dyed their hair red wash it out, and then instruct them to present themselves to Claire's chambers. And send a few more women as well."

The woman eyed me suspiciously but clapped her hands. To her assistant, she barked out the order that I'd given, and the boy raced out the door with a bottle of shampoo clutched in his hand.

Once he was gone, she made a note in her ledger, then glanced back up at me. "Will the lady be keeping all of them?"

The thought of Claire surrounded by this many lovers was like taking an arrow between the shoulder blades, the pain so sharp I couldn't draw a full breath, but this was the right thing to do. I had to treat her like a sanguine partner, not a lover or a mate.

"She can have as many as she wants," I said between my teeth.  "And send up a buffet. Food and desserts. But no wine. And musicians to play for her."

The Madame made another note. "Of course, my lord. I'll see it done right away."

I offered her my thanks and departed the overly perfumed space, intent on taking out my frustrations in the training yard.

The sun was shining despite the frigid temperature, and I knew it was ill-advised to cross swords with my Master at Arms while distracted and under the sun, but I did it anyway. Meeting blow after blow for hours until I could barely lift my arm, and the sun's rays had drained my strength.

"What's got you all pissed off, my lord?" Gavin finally asked when I threw down my sword and wiped the sweat from my brow. "You're fighting like an angry young man, not the calculating warrior I know you to be."

I ignored the comment and winced as I touched my aching lip.

He'd punched me hard enough to split it open before I'd decided enough was enough, and the taste of Claire's blood sat on my tongue. Tantalizingly sweet. For the next year, I'd have it running through my veins, which was the only thing I'd take from her.

I cast my gaze toward the tower where her room was and wished I hadn't. The pain of knowing she was up there with whoever, doing whatever, was more than I could bear.

You can bear it, and you will.

"Out with it, my lord. What's bothering you? Is it the upcoming trip over the pass?" he asked in his gruff voice. "Because you've got nothing to worry about with us lot at your back."

I forced a grin to put him at ease. I didn't want him to think I was troubled. I needed to be their commander. "I fancied a scrappier fight after spending all that time at the capital," I told him, forcing my attention away from Claire's room.

I wasn't sure if I'd fooled him into believing all was well, but the old Master at Arms let out a chuckle. "Speaking of the capital, that lad of yours, Prince Tyson, he came by the training yard just before you did."

I raised an interested brow. Tyson may be palace-trained, but my Master at Arms was a real warrior. His opinion was what mattered. "And?"

The man shrugged and offered me a reluctant smile. "His style is formal, but he isn't without talent. A trip past the mountains will do him good. Rough up his smooth edges."

I laughed with him.

Sheathing his sword, he added, "His sanguine partner is a fighter too. She crossed blades with him and could hold her own, which will fare well for the trip." 

My laughter died as I considered his statement. 

A trip over the mountains might be good for Tyson, but I wondered if it would be good for Claire. How was she going to fair if the witches attacked? Would she help me if I was bleeding and needed her blood to heal myself? Or would she see red and faint?

More importantly, what would happen if she was injured? What would I do?

Shaking his hand and offering him my thanks, I left the training yard and headed for my council chambers, which were as far away from Claire's room as I could get without sitting in Imogen's salt pools.

I poured over maps and scratched down notes and did everything I was supposed to do to prepare for this trip. But the whole time, I was distracted.

I sat back in my chair, tapping my fingers on the table. I could pretend like Claire was nothing more than my sanguine partner inside these walls, as much as it pained me, but what I didn't know was how I would react if she were injured.

I needed to train her how to fight, I realized. She had to learn how to protect herself when we left for the Lawless Lands. 

A little bit of an angsty vampire chapter. I hope you didn't mind. He needed to suffer a little.  

How well do you think Claire's training is going to go?