Page 59 of Revealing Fate

Two miles from the cabin, Kal offloaded a world’s worth of fury in second form. The man that he claimed to be, the one he’d spent a lifetime honing, one so thoroughly focused, so disciplined, so intentional, may as well have been an apparition.

The nearest tree, a stunning maple sporting crimson foliage, crashed with a deafening boom, the trunk cleaved in two. A noble fir followed. Two oaks were stripped of their lower branches by vicious claws. Kal raked grooves in the earth deep enough to bury bodies. Ferns exploded, tiny leaves flying in every direction like dandelion fluff.

His wrath was absolute, his instincts impossible to ignore. Everywhere he looked, he saw that woman. The trunk of a sacred fig curved the same way her hips flared from her narrower waist. The sunlight that pierced the canopy warmed him like the light of her smile. Creeping bittersweet vines fell in a verdant snarl like the tangle of her thick hair, dark and twisted as her betrayal.

Kal vented his inner torment on the innocent wood. He didn’t know whether it was minutes or hours later that he finally collapsed, great clawed hands hitting the dirt, chest heaving. There were splinters of wood caught between his teeth. Thorns, twigs, and leaves peppered his coat. He blinked against the dirt in his eyes.

The sudden stillness of the forest pressed in on him from all sides. Alone. Kal was utterly alone.

If his mother were to see him now…Kal could almost picture the sympathetic turn of her beautiful face. Imagined his father’s hand landing on his shoulder in comfort and understanding. He saw his Grandfather Magnus’s stern silver brow and defiant gaze, allowing Kal a moment of self-pity before urging him to his feet.

A guttural cry burst from his lungs.

Fucking divine, how he missed them. What Kal would give to have five minutes with his family. To smell his mother’s scent. To feel the reassuring strength of his father’s embrace. To stand eye-to-eye with his grandfather and see pride and approval reflected in the old man’s expression.

The weight of their loss crushed him in a way he hadn’t felt since boyhood, the acute pain of their absence made anew by the violent ripping away of faith he’d placed in Kitty. The stupid hope he’d allowed himself to entertain.

He thought he was disciplined? Self-aware? He was a reckless fucking fool.

Kal had never given himself to a woman. Not fully. He’d had plenty of bedmates over the years. Warm bodies, tender touches, and frenzied passions to ease the ache of loneliness he had a habit of neglecting for too long. His selflessness in the bedchamber had once earned him esteemed repute within female circles of gossip. He gave them pleasure and thrill, yet invariably withheld his own, finding his release in hurried solitude long after his sated companions had dozed or gone.

They always wanted things Kal couldn’t provide. Things his mother warned him against giving.

“Guard your heart, Kalevar,” his mother had cautioned. “An honorable man only gives it once.”

“Pah.” Grandfather Magnus had leaned forward in his favorite chair, wily expression earning a stern look from Kal’s mother. “Better you guard your seed, boy. Wherever that goes, your heart will follow, whether you will it or not.”

Kal had guarded both with little difficulty. Any time he’d found himself close to crossing that line, the ghosts of his family’s warnings rectified his temporary lapse of resolve.

Until recently. Until her.

With Kitty, Kal wanted more than cursory companionship. Without even meaning to, he’d found himself envisioning a life with her. A future he’d long since deemed impossible.

But she wasn’t Railah Harless. She wasn’t a rescued Fate. She wasn’t Kitty.

She was…oh fuck it. Whoever she claimed to be, one thing was certain. She wasn’t his.

Kal shoved to his feet, shaking his bulk to free the debris from his pelt, then shifted back to first form. He stalked away from the ruined section of forest, guilt nipping his conscience as he skirted a felled tree.

He had his tantrum, made his mess. But he could atone for that later. There was an injured woman in his bedroom, and spilled seed or no, his damnable heart wouldn’t let him leave her there to bleed.

Kal found Kitty where he’d left her hours before. She sat slumped against the doorframe, head lolled to one side, injured arm cradled against her chest, face pinched with pain even in unconsciousness.

He didn’t allow himself to examine the emotions that surfaced at the sight of her. A fucking grimalkin. He could throttle Lucien Cross for suggesting such an adversary. And Saul for allowing it. Then again, Kal could throttle her for choosing the physical trial in the first place.

Kal lifted her as gently as possible and set her on the bed. A whimper left Kitty’s pursed lips as he eased her back against the furs. She cracked an eyelid, lashes dusted with salt from dried tears.

“Kal—” Her hoarse voice held a plea.

“No,” he clipped.

“But…”

Fucking divine, did it always have to be a battle with her? “Listen to me. I don’t want excuses or explanations, and you’re in no state to give them. So just…be quiet and let me look at you.”

By some miracle, Kitty let her lids fall and, with a shallow nod, rested her head back against his pillow.

Kal moved with practiced efficiency. He cut away her tattered sweater—no, his sweater—and the shirt underneath. Two deep gouges marred the skin over her collarbone, a third traveling the length of her shoulder. The grimalkin’s claws missed her throat by inches. Kal peeled the ruined fabric away from the lacerations where it had adhered to her ragged flesh.