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She sounds so confused, and Fates, I get it. I don’t understand this anymore than she does.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. I hate that it’s the only answer I have to give her.
We sit in the dark quiet of the empty room, breathing each other in. My mind races to come up with a way to explain what happened tonight to my pack without making things worse.
This isn’t simple lust. I’ve felt lust a hundred times before.
I focus on my pack Bonds. They’re right where they’ve always been, green and pulsing with life. Connecting our souls.
And right next to them, impossible to miss, is the swirling pool of silver. A Bond and yet, not a Bond by the strictest definition of the word. There’s no thread, but…
After tonight, it’s even stronger than before. Glowing, warm, and ancient. There’s no denying that it feels… alive.
The fastest way to protect Idril and get her out of here is to get proof that she isn’t working with her father. Once I have that, I can insist we take her under our protection and keep her safe from him.
And, if she were to offer her assistance in exposing him, that would go a long way to alleviate Dax’s mistrust.
I’m more confident than ever that keeping our Bond a secret is the right course of action.
At least until I can get her away from here and work on softening Dax’s rough edges a bit.
And if she meets them and the Bond appears the way it did for us? Even fucking better.
I sigh, and my long exhale causes Idril’s hair to flutter gently against my hands. If only I could be sure she was Fated to my brothers, none of this would even fucking matter.
Fates. What a fucking mess.
“Caelan.”
Idril breathes my name, forming the syllables like she’s tasting them on her tongue. The sound moves through me like a thousand fireworks exploding against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
Yes. This is right. My name should always be on her lips.
She tilts her head and her brows furrow in confusion. “Why—I mean. Why are you here?”
I huff a laugh. What the hell am I supposed to tell her?
The truth, a little voice whispers, and I lean into it, deciding to be as honest as I can.
“Your father—”
She recoils, her expression morphing from confusion to terror in the blink of an eye.
“He sent you?”
She cringes, scrambling back in obvious panic until she hits the wall.
Well, if I needed any proof that she isn’t involved in whatever the fuck her father is doing, she just gave it to me.
Her eyes brim with betrayal, and seeing it there guts me.
“No!” I raise my hands, palm out to show I’m not a threat. “Shit. No. He didn’t send me. The opposite, actually.”
She stays where she is, but cocks her head, waiting for an explanation.
Alright, I guess I’m doing this.
I can’t lie to her. I’ve lied to a lot of people in my life, almost all for good reasons. Protection, a rescue mission, gathering intel.
