Page 13 of Binding His Fated Mates

He nodded. And the expression on his face told me he understood exactly what was going on in my head, even without asking. We weren’t the same person at all, not anymore, but we weren’t not the same person either. Despite our differences, no one else understood me better. And vice versa.

We grabbed mugs and filled them with coffee, took plates piled high with food from Sarah, then found seats near the middle of the room.

I started digging into my food immediately, eating in silence.

Hunter glared down into the depths of his coffee, his plate steaming and untouched.

Yup, he was in an epic bad mood.

I felt Daniel get closer and my stomach flipped with anticipation. I was facing the entrance, and I looked up from my food just as the door opened and the warlock walked in.

My body responded before my brain could intervene, just like always. It wasn’t dramatic or anything. It was a sharpening of focus, as if the room had been slightly out of alignment and his presence corrected it, bringing everything into sharp and sudden clarity. He was wearing a red flannel over a faded black T-shirt, his floppy dark hair falling into his eyes.

He looked tired. But then, he always looked tired lately. Still, he was smiling, even though it was fake. It was that bright, automatic smile he wore every single day like armor, which never quite seemed to reach his dark eyes. It wasn’t the smile I’d grown up with. It was the ‘everything is fine, please stop asking questions’ smile, meant to deflect.

Hunter stiffened, so I knew he felt Daniel’s presence as well, even though the warlock was behind him and out of sight. But he kept his gaze right where it was, still glaring down into his mug.

I turned my head slightly, trying not to be obvious about it, and watched Daniel get coffee and then food, my own plate forgotten in front of me. Then he scanned the room, that cheerful not-quite-real smile pinned safely in place. He spotted us, made eye contact with me, and then hesitated. The smile dimmed for an instant.

Then he squared his shoulders and walked over.

“Hey,” he said brightly, hovering at the edge of the table, not sitting down. His fingers were tight around his plate of food. “Is it—er, do you mind if I—”

He lifted a hand from his death grip on his plate and gestured vaguely at the empty spot next to me, across from Hunter, at the very edge of the bench.

My twin’s jaw tightened. I could almost feel him gearing up for a refusal. Just as I could sense Daniel, I could feel Hunter too. It wasn’t as strong as with the warlock, but it was like the emotional equivalent of an echo. I wasn’t sure if it was because we were born of the same person—a twin bond, maybe? Or maybe it was because we were both mate-bonded to Daniel and I was somehow experiencing Hunter’s emotions echoed through Daniel. Both, most likely.

And I understood Hunter’s impulse to shut Daniel out, of course. We’d both been keeping an ice-cold distance from him for two years. It was mostly habit, at this point. And it was definitely the smart thing to do—the safe thing.

Things had changed between the three of us when the Algea had attacked and temporarily paralyzed Hunter. Then, I’d watched Daniel put himself in harm’s way to help drag my twin—my literal other half—to safety. And I’d seen the way he had collapsed inward when he’d thought Hunter’s injuries might not be reversible. Whatever else had happened between us, the warlock still cared about us in a way no one else ever had. And I knew Hunter understood that, too.

I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be smart or safe anymore. I missed him way too much.

Still, I almost let my other half tell the warlock to sit elsewhere. No matter how I felt, his presence was… confusing.

But the look on Daniel’s face—braced for rejection, trying so hard to seem like it wouldn’t bother him—decided me.

“Sit down, Daniel,” I said.

Hunter shot me a dark, mutinous look. I ignored it.

Daniel sat down beside me. He set his plate in front of himself, but he didn’t start eating right away. He cast a look at Hunter with those careful, dark eyes, clearly trying to gauge the temperature.

“You look like shit,” Hunter said flatly, finally looking over at Daniel. A little unwillingly, as though he couldn’t quite help himself.

“Hunter,” I said.

“What? He does.”

Daniel let out a sound that was almost, but not quite, a laugh. “Yeah. Well, I haven’t been sleeping great.”

“Join the fucking club,” Hunter muttered, and then seemed to realize what he’d implied, because his ears went red and he returned his attention to his coffee with sudden intensity.

“Pretty sure he already has,” I said. “None of us has gotten a restful night’s sleep in two years.”

Hunter looked back up, his eyes wide and disbelieving that I’d just all but admitted to having the mate dreams. It was one thing to talk about them with each other, another to tell Daniel. But I was done with being cruel to him.

I’d meant what I said: I wanted to forgive him. I wanted a lot more than that, besides.