The Mates of Monsters novel Chapter 62

"I'm not here to debate. I request that you end your campaigning and resign your proposition," He declares.

"We will do no such thing," David answers.

"End the proposition," he repeats, "or find our treaty to be nothing but scribbling on paper."

David takes a breath and leans in his seat. "Don't do this, Nicodra. You know very well that it is not worth the damage."

"You're right. It is a waste of men—war, and it is not what it used to be. Our battlefields are grown over or developed. People aren't willing to die, not as they used to be."

"The proposition could benefit your own mate," I argue. "Aurora?"

Aurora glances to Nicodra. "I will have a son. If not this one, then the next."

My heart lurches.

Nicodra pats his mate's hand on the table, between their plates. My eyes catch on his glass, and I wonder if Helena didn't know better, because I pray that she doesn't, just this once. If not the wine, then the food—a sprinkle of something natural and deadly; scraps of mandrake or hemlock. My father said poison is a woman's weapon; he said it as he taught me which to avoid, as if someone may come around and try to kill me with my dinner.

"We are fighting for opposing beliefs," Nicodra tells me. "I tried to preserve our history. I tried to rise it from its deepening grave, and I will not let your attempt at defamation stop me because whether or not you chose to see it, there are many who agree with my work as well. People want what we had."

"As I said at the Union, the push for regression overlooks the fact that pack members do not want to live as they did a century ago. The balance of control was totalitarian. Our people would never agree."

"See how you said that, Amin," Nicodra highlights, "our people. By all means, if they do not want my resources or protection, they can see what the real world is like. But the world isn't so welcoming to those who have nothing."

David laughs, fed up. "Yet you're defending culture and tradition."

"We have always had unfinished business—poorly patched up again and again by treaties and agreements. Perhaps it's time we handle things the old way."

My finger glides over my dinner knife, teasing, daring myself to do something. Aurora watches my movements and for a second I swear our gazes connect.

David rolls his shoulders. "My mate was right, Nicodra. You are a fool. You want to go about this the traditional way? Fine. You have convinced me of others' concerns—the only way to protect from you is to end you."

I quickly touch David's arm laid against the table. "You're not serious? No. That will not be happening. I'm getting Tarlo and the guards, and Alpha Nicodra is leaving."

David doesn't look at me. "They will not be present," he says, referring to me and Aurora. "If what you want is to do this the old way, then we will also do it the right way. I want this in writing, so when I kill you and face the Union, I will have proof of the agreement."

I stand from the table, screeching the chair legs and clattering the silverware. "David," I press, "you're not doing this. Stop talking about it like you're going to fight, and get this man off our land."

I look to Aurora, but her eyes aim downward. This is what she wants—a chance for Nicodra to be killed. My heart hammers in my chest as I feel my control slipping through my fingers.

"Tonight," Nicodra says.

"You have an hour. I will draft the agreement and we will settle this as you so desperately want to."