Suddenly Donovan was a flurry of movement as he slammed me against the wall, blocking my body with his. Something shattered against the stone next to us, and then Donovan was gone.

Before I could turn, I heard the crash. He had Vivian by the throat, holding her against the opposite wall.

“That was your one temper tantrum. Next time you try to hurt my mate, you’re gone from the pack. If it continues after that, I will rip your head from your body.”

Vivian started sobbing, her whole body shaking. Big, fat crocodile tears ran down her face, but Donovan didn’t back down. With one final growl, he released her. As soon as his back turned, Vivian narrowed her gaze at me. Her tears dried up in an instant, and her fists clenched with barely contained rage.

That was fine. She could be mad at me all she wanted. If she came after me, maybe then we’d get enough proof to force a tribunal. As soon as she glanced away again, I started down the hallway, trusting Donovan to catch up and lead me through the maze. Donovan was right. Finding this fey creature was our first priority, but now that I’d met Vivian… She had to go. One way or another.

Chapter Ten

It took a good while to get to Donovan’s room through countless hallways, stairwells, and corridors. “Seriously. Does the stronghold really need to be this big?”

Donovan laughed. “Maybe not, but I fancy the stronghold the way it is. Plus, this wing is mostly empty except for my personal quarters. A little privacy from the rest is sometimes very needed.”

I could definitely appreciate that.

He stopped in front of a thick wooden door. Its top was rounded in an arch, and a metal grate covered the tiny window in its center. There wasn’t a lock, but no one would enter his room uninvited. If they did, he’d scent them. Even if Donovan had been going easy on his pack since he’d joined the Seven, it wasn’t likely he’d be lenient enough to excuse that.

Donovan opened the door for me.

I gasped as I took in the room. I was expecting it to be small and—if I was lucky—to have an en suite bathroom. This was much bigger than that. More like an apartment than quarters in a stronghold.

I wandered in and started taking stock. He had an office with a library off to the left. A kitchen with a well-stocked fridge. A guest room was down the hall to the right, and his room was at the end of the same hall. But what I didn’t see were any pictures or paintings. No knickknacks on the shelves or tables. The colors were all dark—deep burgundy, navy, and forest green—and the furniture was dark wood. They were mostly antiques and the quality of everything was amazing. Especially the embroidered silk duvet cover. But it all felt a little serious. None of it reflected the Donovan that I knew. His easy smiles and soft nature weren’t reflected at all in his dark, stuffy apartment. I glanced back at him, trying to see how he fit in here, and he didn’t. Not to me anyway.