Nix chuckles. “Simply put, yes. It will all work out for the best, Ro.” Nix moves into Rowan’s arms again. “You have to try to forgive yourself. Talk to Jamie if you need to; you always feel better after you do.”
“I will. Grayson and Finn, too. I promise. And I’ll keep trying to be better. As Jay says, live to fight the good fight for another day. I can do that.”
“Exactly; but with a long life in mind, you should definitely not pee on Lauren.”
“Fuck, yeah. Good plan.” Rowan shudders.
30
Epilogue Three: (Grayson, Luca, and Jay)
Grayson
The nest is empty by the time Grayson shakes off his dream. The lingering scent of patchouli clings to his senses, mingling with the phantom warmth of flame in his palms. His body aches with the echo of battle: the sting of a harsh winter wind still burns his face, and a shiver courses down his spine despite the heat radiating from his skin.
The scene replays in his mind’s eye, sharp and vivid. Gideon and Jay fight back to back, their movements a deadly, synchronized dance of sword and claw. Gideon’s laugh—wild, joyous—rises above the chaos, carried to him on the wind, blending with the screams of the dying.
Nix, a ghost among the carnage, slips through the crowd like white smoke, his glowing fingers brushing decaying brows. Wherever he touches, the unnatural bodies collapse, crumbling into dust and returning what they had stolen to The Plain.
Nearby, Rowan-wolf and Leo tear through the horde with raw power, clearing a path for Finn and Luca. The two healers move with calm precision, bringing hope and life to their fallen.
Together, it is a complicated ballet, every strike divine.
Most of all, he recalls the triumph. The surge of magic filling every corner of his soul, the electrifying connection to The Plain, as he lays waste to hordes of demons corrupted by soul magic. It isn’t just power. It is purpose.
Remember that living a beautiful life is worth the risk, Grayson. Give yourself permission to be all that you are, because your warrior’s heart is true.
Grayson lets the Goddess’s words flow through him again. It’s not the first time; he’s played them over and over in his mind off and on for more than twenty-four hours. He’d like to convince himself he doesn’t know what she meant by taking risks and trusting himself. But Grayson has always tried to be transparent with himself, even when he can’t always be with his mates. A life of restraint isn’t easy to give up. Embracing all that he is isn’t easy when he’s twenty-five and feels like he doesn’t know who he’ssupposedto be.
Deciding to live a life of magic, drawing on the kind of power he’d felt when facing off against Withers, is fucking scary.
No way around it.
Grayson could have taken the whole wall down, or set fire to the lawn, letting it burn far past the fuel the grass and trees would have allowed—up to the castle and beyond. He could have called down a hurricane. He hadn’t gone into the fight knowing those things were possible, but once he did, the possibilities stretched out before him, endless in their destruction. It chillshim all the way through his soul, so much so that Grayson wants to give in to the urge to lock The Plain down behind the wall again.
He doesn’t, but it’s a near thing.
Sighing, Grayson staggers to the shower, the weight of his looming self-doubt pressing down like the lingering chill from his dream. He turns the water as hot as he can bear, the heat seeping into his muscles, loosening the tension as he braces his hands against the cool tiles, eyes closed. He lets it wash the residual adrenaline and echoes from the battlefield down the drain.
Grayson feels Nix looking for him in his soul long before his small hands go around Grayson’s waist, and a tiny nose presses between his shoulder blades. Grayson fixes the water temp to several degrees below scalding, and he lets his soulmate comfort him.
“Gray,” Nix whispers, with a kiss to his spine and then one more. He doesn’t ask if Grayson is alright, but instead reaches for the soap and begins washing his back and down his legs. From his crouched position, he kisses the back of Grayson’s thigh, where Jay had left his mark in the early hours of the morning. “This is so pretty. It’s a pity it won’t last long.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Grayson had thought that himself, but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he turns and pulls Nix to his feet.
“You’re pretty,” he says with a smile, getting his first look at Nix’s face—and of course, it’s true. The Florida sun has turned his skin golden, and there are a multitude of new and fascinating freckles over his nose, including one on the corner of his mouth. He’ll have to paint something new when they get home, and Grayson’s fingers itch to hold his brush. It’s been too long since he’s created anything, and he’s not surprised it’s starting to wear on him.
Nix laughs, cheeks pink. “We heard from Lauren this morning that they have Winnie and Ansel; they were in Carnell’s pool shed. They’ve probably been in there at least since the Wardens got involved.”
“Really? Fuck, that’s good news. Are they okay?”
“They are, although they’re at the hospital for observation. She says they’ll go home today,” Nix says, rinsing the conditioner from his hair. There’s not one note of sweet vanilla in the heavy steam, and Grayson figures his soulmate is hiding his strong emotions about something. He can’t hide the swirling and swooping emotions in their soul, however, and Grayson doesn’t have long to wait to learn why.
“I’m going to see her tomorrow and introduce her to Mrs. Stavros. Maybe go to the storage unit,” Nix says, with a nonchalance Grayson knows he doesn’t feel.
Grayson wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this for virtual strangers, that letting them stay in the house is generous enough, and that he doesn’t have to rummage through his old life until he’s ready. Or at the very least, to please let Jay or Gideon or Grayson do it for him instead. But he should have known that isn’t how Nix goes through life. He might be afraid, but he doesn’t let that fear make his choices anymore. This new Nix trusts himself.
And isn’t that something Grayson could learn from his soulmate? Isn’t that at the core of what The Goddess whispered in his soul? That he should give himself permission, and trust himself? The Plain bucks and writhes in agreement, a reminder that he should be learning to say the same.
