THIRST (The Elite Book 3) by Hanleigh Bradley (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

extra snug around her before draping an arm over her and closing my eyes.

I might not need to sleep, but right now, there’s nothing I want more than to sleep with her in my arms.

My eyes are only closed for a minute and a half though before I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. No one enters or says anything through the wood, and I know that I have no choice but to leave Farah. No one other than the Mother would dare to disturb me in my bedroom.

And as much as I might like to imagine the rest of the world has gone and fucked itself, all the problems I left outside of this room are still waiting for me. Kissing Farah on the forehead, I breathe in her scent. I love the smell of her, a perfect combination of her blood, sex and something that is purely her, all intermingled with my own scent. My dick twitches at the idea of my scent on her. It’s animalistic, a need for every creator on the face of the planet to know that this woman belongs exclusively to me.

But I pull away and cross the room to my wardrobe, grabbing the first things my fingers touch. My eyes are still on Farah’s sleeping form as I pull the clothes on and then, still barefoot, I leave the room.

The hall is empty, whoever knocked having already gone.

I head down the stairs and into the living room. The Mother is there, sitting quietly in front of the fire. She doesn’t look up when I enter, merely nodding her head in greeting.

“Sorry to disturb,” she says, “but we have work to do.”

I settle on the sofa opposite her without a word.

“If someone is trying to overthrow me, Farah isn’t safe here.”

I hadn’t expected her to mention Farah. I thought she wanted to talk about work. About the rebellion or whatever Kirdem’s death means, but not Farah.

“She stays,” I growl out.

“You’re not safe here either.”

“I can keep us safe,” I say dismissively.

“I think we need to increase security, and not just here. All the royal households.”

“Mother, that’s…”

“A lot. I know. But I don’t see how we have much choice.” Her body is rigid. While I’ve been upstairs enjoying myself, she’s been sitting here worrying about this. “Do you have any idea who might want to…”

“To rebel?” I ask. “None. I’ve thought about it. I’ve asked Hestin to look into it, but I can’t think of anyone. We’ve maintained peace for…”

“For a hundred years,” she finishes for me with a small smile.

“There should be signs, stirrings. Rumours. But there’s not. There’s been nothing.”

It’s frustrating. I’m not used to feeling so damn useless. I hate not knowing who my enemy is. If I knew, I could destroy them. I could protect Farah and the Mother and even Malfas. But I don’t even know where to start.

“If they come for you and find Farah…”

I shake my head. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about what they might do to her.

“She’s your only weakness. Do you realise that? There’s nothing else they could use against you.”

“That’s not true.” I can think of several things that could prove to be my weakness. The Mother for one. My damn loyalty to her.

“You need to change her.” There’s an urgency in her voice that I don’t like.

“That didn’t save Kirdem,” I growl out.

It’s unkind, and I don’t relish the way she flinches.

“She needs to be able to defend herself. You won’t always be there to protect her.”

“I will,” I tell her. “I won’t leave her. Not for a second.”

“Are you going to lock her in this house? She’ll hate you for it.”

“Then she’ll have to fucking hate me, because I’m not letting anything happen to her. She’s mine.” My tone is angry, brutal even. I’ve never spoken this way to the Mother before. Only Farah could draw such a violent reaction from me.

“Everything is different when you find your mate,” she murmurs. “You saw it today with Malfas. They didn’t care for my children, the ones they swore to protect, because they were too consumed with their need to protect one another.”

I want to tell her that she’s wrong. That Farah isn’t my mate. That I don’t even believe in that bullshit, but there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that tells me she might be right. One I refuse to pay any heed to at all.

“I understand them,” she continues. “It’s the same reason I slaughtered half of the Scottish elite after Kirdem died. I needed to make someone pay for taking him from me.”

Immediately, I imagine Farah dead. I picture her corpse, like Kirdem’s and I know as much as I’m loathed to admit it, I’d probably do the same. I’d kill everyone within a five-mile radius just to ease the unending fury I’d feel at losing her.

“You need to accept your feelings for her. Only then will you be able to control them.”

Our conversation drops off as we hear a car coming down the drive. The Mother is immediately on alert, but I sit back unconcerned.

“It’s just Hestin,” I tell her.

“And you’re certain he can be trusted?”

“As certain as you are about me.”

“Not much then,” she teases, and I’m grateful that the tension has momentarily broken. We both laugh softly at that, both of us knowing that her words are untrue.

Hestin doesn’t bother to knock on the front door, letting himself in.

“Does he usually just let himself in?”

“No. Not normally.” I get to my feet, move towards the door, and open it just as Hestin falls into the room. “What the hell happened?”

I just grab him before he falls to the ground. I carry him across the