Leon studies my face for a moment, then nods without pressing. He falls into step beside me as I head toward the palace gardens. “Our usual place, then?”
“No.” I shake my head, gripping the bottles tighter. “Not the bar.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to people.” The words come out harsh, jagged. “I don’t want women approaching me. I just want to drink in peace.”
Leon’s expression shifts slightly—a flicker of concern that he quickly masks. “Lead the way.”
The palace gardens at night are ideal. Dark enough to hide in, secluded enough that no one will bother us. I find a bench tucked behind a row of hedges, away from the main paths, and collapse onto it. I hand Leon one of the whiskeys and crack open the other.
“To whatever’s got you looking like death,” Leon says, raising his bottle.
Not bothering to toast him back, I take a long pull straight from the bottle, letting the burn scorch down my throat.
Leon has a drink, too, more measured than mine, and settles back against the bench. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. Nothing.” His voice is dry, and he takes another sip. “That’s why you’re dragging me out here to drink in the dark instead of at our customary spot.”
I take another long swig instead of answering. The alcohol sits heavy in my stomach but does nothing to ease the constant ache in my chest. My wolf paces restlessly, whimpering at intervals, and it’s driving me insane. I don’t understand this feeling of wrongness that’s been crawling under my skin for two weeks.
“Seth—”
“Just sit with me,” I mutter, staring atnothing. “Please.”
He goes quiet, and we sit there in the darkness. The only sounds are the distant fountain, my own harsh breathing between drinks, and the occasional clink of Leon’s bottle. My wolf won’t settle; he keeps clawing at me with something that feels like panic, but I don’t know why.
Leon watches me in that patient way of his, taking steady drinks from his bottle while waiting for me to break. He’s good at that—outlasting people’s stubbornness with sheer, calm persistence. We’ve been drinking together since we were teenagers; he knows when to push me and when to wait.
“Isn’t that Selene?” Leon’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
My head jerks up so fast I nearly drop the damn bottle. And there she is, standing in the lamplight at the edge of the garden path, auburn hair catching the glow. She has a soft smile on her face.
Zane stands close—too close—one hand cupping her cheek tenderly. Like she belongs to him. My wolf snarls, clawing at my ribs, but I force myself to stay rooted to this bench, hidden in the shadows.
I watch as he leans in. Watch as his lips brush hers in a kiss that’s gentle and lingering. Watch as she melts into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My hand tightens around the bottle until I fear I’m going to break it.
“Seth.” Leon sets his whiskey down, his voice sharp now. “What the hell is going on?”
I can’t look away. Can’t tear my eyes from Zane as he steps back, murmuring something to her before he turns and walks away. Selene stands there watching his retreating form, a dazed, happy expression on her face as she touches her lips. Like he just gave her some treasured thing instead of taking what should be mine.
The mate bond roars in my chest—angry, possessive, demanding I move. But my body won’t obey.
“Seth.” Leon grabs my shoulder, trying to get me to look at him. “Isn’t Selene your fated mate?”
I watch as she finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the gardens. Only then do I look at Leon. His dark eyes are sharpdespite the alcohol we’ve both been drinking. My jaw is so tight it hurts.
Leon’s gaze turns sharper, more focused. “I’ve seen her with Zane these past two weeks.” His voice drops. “What’s happening here? Did you reject her?”
The silence stretches between us. I take another long drink, but the burn doesn’t help.
“Seth,” Leon presses, his expression troubled now. “Answer me.”
“Selene and Zane are fated mates.” The words taste like acid on my tongue.
