In the dead of night.
If Nix’s outburst today is anything to go by, there’s one thing Gideon knows for certain about magic: he can trust their omega’s instincts. There is a reason Nix insisted that, if he couldn’t go himself, it had to be Gideon who brought his soulmate home.
Gideon may have promised Jay restraint, but if Grayson weren’t outside soon…
No sooner is Gideon relishing the thought of rampaging through the Guild, shouting Grayson’s name, than he appears beside the car.
Pulling open the car door, he slips gracefully into the seat and tosses his bag into the back. He leans in close so he can rub his forehead on Gideon’s shoulder, his basil-vanilla scent singed around the edges. “Thanks for coming, Gid.”
“You’re late,” Gideon breathes, pressing his nose into the top of Grayson’s head. He smells of strangers and the ever-present patchouli of The Plain. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah. Jay said Nix was freaking out, though, and they sent you.” He waves a hand encompassing Gideon’s entire person.
Gideon runs his hand over Grayson’s fuzzy head before using a fingertip against his forehead to push him back.
“And why not send me?” Gideon asks, starting the car. “I can be nice.”
It’s mostly true, even if he’s annoyed at having missed his chance to give Grayson’s teachers a piece of his mind. He wonders if he could plow over the offensive porta-potty and somehow not put the car back into the dealership in the process—just to make his point.
Deciding it’s worth the risk—what’s a scratch or two—he narrowly sideswipes it as he pulls away. The SUV passes through unscathed and, as he watches in the rearview mirror, it wavers like a mirage before becoming solid once again.
How unsatisfying.
“Well, for one, you smell like you were in the middle of cooking,” Grayson wrinkles his nose.
He opens his window all the way to air out the mix of salmon, onions, and residual thunderstorm-scented frustration.
“Plus, you’re still wearing your ‘good’ apron, so you must have been in a hurry. What happened?”
Gideon looks down, realizing he still has his pink ruffled apron on—another gift from Leo for no reason except that he has a spending problem and Gideon loves them.
So much for his dignity.
Huffing out a breath, he hopes the burning in his ears isn’t visible under his shaggy hair.
“I was making dinner for your visiting teachers, and the next thing we know, Nix is climbing the back wall. Rowan managed to shift and take him to the ground before he went over the top.”
“What?! Why?” Grayson rubs the center of his chest, where pale pink light glows through his shirt.
“It took a few minutes to get him to calm down enough to tell us, but…he said something was wrong withyou.”
He leaves out that he’d been madder than a wet hen, fanged out, and with blue eyes bright enough to be seen by the Moon Themself. It had set Rowan off, and only Leo and Finn physically barring the doors kept him inside and not on the evening news.
“He felt that?” Grayson’s eyes go wide with shock in his pale face. “It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t feel bad or anything, just—”
He stops himself before shaking it off. “I had Time for my last appointment today,” as if that is explanation enough.
“You had your least favorite teacher, and then something went so badly that Nix was determined to handle it on his own? It has to be more than that.”
Grayson only shrugs. “I hate this lesson. You know that. It’s not the kind of Affinity the Guild needs to worry about, but—” He bangs his head back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. “To top it all off, she insists on the last period of the day. I’m already exhausted by then.”
It’s a common, recurring complaint before he leaves each day and when he comes home. To make sure the Guild leaves the pack alone, Grayson must expend extra energy keeping his power on a tight leash.
Despite the new freedom he has in embracing it, the process is almost enough to have Grayson’s shoulders perpetually hunched and him back to his pre-Nix quietude whenever he thinks about his practice at the Guild. That pisses Gideon off to no end.
He slows the SUV down incrementally, finally making the turn toward the compound. He’s undecided about whether he’ll need to turn around and speak to this Professor himself, before he has to get approval from his Pack Alpha. Better to ask for forgiveness—and a lawyer—than ask for permission, has always been Gideon’s motto for protecting his pack.
“I thought it used to be first in the day?”
