Sohow Nedra knew that he had a mate. Zagan didn’t know how, but there was no way that her bringing up that supposed notation in a book was a coincidence. There was also no way that she could know about Penelope, so he wasn’t sure what was happening, but he didn’t like it.
Zagan stalked through the castle up toward his office and stopped at the door where the Luna and Winter were staying. Was Penelope Winter his answer to ending this immortal life? Perhaps he should just walk in and have her do it now—jump start his heart so that he could end it all. That was his initial reason for seeking these alyko, wasn’t it?
He rested one palm flat against the wood, imagining the female who was on the other side. If he found himself craving her like he had before, she wouldn’t even have a chance to kill him because he would likely drain her of the remaining blood in her body first.
He tried to recall what he said to her in her compelled state. It was a blur, mostly because he wasn’t thinking about what he was telling her—he was thinking about her blood and how it might taste before he finally gave in and requested her wrist.
"Fuck, I told her to co to this room," he chuckled. "That’s why she requested to share a room with the Luna."
He backed up and stared at the door. He was truly losing it. His mory was impeccable, but sohow he had forgotten that detail as if he were intoxicated at the ti. In truth, it was an apt comparison and here he was, unsure of whether he wanted more of it.
Brandt said she ate, but now he had the urge to check for himself if she was alright. He could use the excuse of wanting a report on the Luna, which she should not resist giving him since he ordered it of her when she was compelled.
Why was he standing here looking at the door like a terrified schoolboy? Was he truly afraid of this female?
He stepped forward and rapped on the wood, reclaiming the flat, disinterested affect that he always wore when he was stripped of emotions. He waited for a response—for a gasp and flurry of movent on the other side, for footsteps, for sothing—but it was strangely silent on the other side. Were they honestly ignoring him? He gritted his teeth and knocked again.
Within the room, Penelope had jolted up from where she was lying in the bed, her eyes going impossibly wide. Was it the lycan again? What was his na? Brandt? If it was, it would seem awfully suspicious if August was once again in the bathroom. She glanced at the open bathroom door.
What if it was Zagan?
When the knock ca a third ti, this ti more aggressive in its insistence at being answered, she skipped lightly to the bathroom and turned on the water before shutting the door quietly behind her. She made her way to the bedroom door, checking herself over and smoothing her clothes before she took a deep breath and finally pulled it open. It appeared as if Zagan was about to drop the polite formalities and push it open on his own, because his hand froze in mid air where the knob would have been.
Penelope’s jaw fell open at seeing him standing there looking disheveled and concerned, which was not at all the how she imagined he would be, but then she ca to her senses and snapped her mouth shut. The two stared at each other for a long mont with the threshold of sothing other than the door separating them before Penelope moved to the side and gestured toward the room.
"Are you... wanting to co in?" she asked, dropping her eyes from his.
"I... no," he shook his head. "I wish for you to co to my office instead," he said.
"I am stuck in here," she replied coldly, her eyes now accusing him when they snapped back to his.
"Not when I am here to let you out," he said, offering his hand.
"So that is how it works?" she asked, staring at his hand without taking it.
"Yes," he sighed, "she designs it so that one who is joined with can pass through."
"She?" Penelope asked innocently, as if she had no knowledge of the one who created this cage.
"Co and I will tell you about it," he said, his hand still extended waiting for her.
"Will you compel again?" Penelope’s voice trembled as she remained frozen next to the open door.
"No," he said simply, clenching his teeth and causing those muscles to feather in his jaw. He regretted having done it even more now that he saw how frightened she was.
Penelope looked back at the bathroom door as if she was worried to leave August before she stepped forward toward the doorway. Once again, the very air itself seem to resist her exit.
"You must take my hand," he reminded her, his voice softer this ti.
Her heart was thundering in her chest as she reached out and put her hand in his, and Zagan took note of it. But once their hands were united, a wave of calm seed to wash over her and her heart slowed back to its regular pace.
He stepped aside for her to walk out, and once she was in the hallway, he dropped his arm back to his side. But for so reason, he was reluctant to let her go, so he held her hand, leading her to the office and only releasing her once they were inside.
Penelope watched him walk around the side of his desk and sit down before he gestured toward the chair in front of her. She sat obediently, worried for what was about to happen. She couldn’t trust him. He had compelled her and drank her blood, and she didn’t rember any of it—only the panic afterward.
"How do you know I compelled you?" he asked, staring at a paper on his desk with interest rather than her.
"I couldn’t rember what happened, and I had a horrible headache when I awoke in this room. Last I rembered, I was in the infirmary. It was pretty obvious," she replied, sounding hurt rather than angry, which surprised him.
"I don’t do that anymore, and it wasn’t my intention," he told her honestly. "I am... sorry."
The apology felt strange in his mouth, and it sounded awkward on its way out. He wasn’t well versed in apologies.
"Then why did you do it?" she asked, frowning at his admission. Why was he being so straightforward with her?
He sighed and finally lifted his eyes to hers. It was a mistake. There was sothing in her eyes that stripped him bare and sought to hold him accountable for his actions.
"I don’t know, Penelope," he sighed. "The truth is..." he trailed off, unaware of why he felt the urge to be so honest with her. He just wanted to lay it all out rather than deceive her more, but he stopped himself. "The truth is that I am a heartless monster, and that is what I do. Now I believe you have a report to give ."
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