Page 43 of Salt and Knot

“You’re the first one to find your mate. This is cause for celebration!” says Thoreau.

“This shouldn’t be celebrated in the usual way,” Conri says. “This is bigger. Have you got married?”

“She hasn’t accepted his monster,” comes a brittle, harsh voice from the corner.

I freeze with mortification, humiliation rising in my cheeks that someone knows my dirty secret that I haven’t fully bonded with Dylan.

“And that’s okay,” Dylan says calmly, keeping me close. His lack of reaction helps me, and I relax a bit.

“None of your business, Moros,” Pierre grumbles. “How many times have we told you to cut out that reading-shit-no-one-else-can trick?”

Moros. Dylan said he wasn’t sure what he shifted into. The man seems to ooze out of the darkness. He’s a tall, lean, pale-skinned man with black hair, wearing a black suit. But I can’t exactly see his features, as though he defies categorisation, or even viewing. It’s impossible to look straight at him.

“Apologies.” His mouth goes up at the corners, but it’s difficult to say it’s a smile because it lacks warmth. “Congratulations on your happiness, Dylan.”

“Thanks.” Dylan gives him a nod.

Aiden tilts his head thoughtfully. “He’s a kraken, how do you even accept a⁠—?”

Thoreau coughs, interrupting. “I think it’s a bad idea to start that sort of question.”

“How did you find her?” Conri sounds casual, almost uninterested, but his wolfish eyes are sharp. Focused. “Dating service?”

“My kraken found her,” Dylan replies, and the disappointment that flashes across Conri’s face is devastating. He really wanted to have a simple answer, I realise. He wants his mate. It’s not that he dislikes me, it’s that my presence makes all of these men more aware than usual of what they don’t have.

And Dylan does.

I do as well.

“And you gave up immortality for her?” Pierre says, his expression a mask.

“What?!” My head snaps around to look at Dylan, my stomach dropping. I can’t have heard correctly.

“Of course.” Dylan doesn’t appear in the least upset. Or surprised. “Bonding was the only choice.”

“You’re going to die because of me?!” I hiss, trying to be discreet, but too emotionally mangled to be careful. This can’t be happening! It can’t be true, can it? I’ve killed him? If he has to give up immortality, in effect, my insistence in bonding has meant Dylan will die. I want to vomit, I feel so terrible.

“You didn’t tell her?” Aiden laughs. “I’m not sure if that’s genius or suicide.”

“Suicide, by definition,” says Moros. “He’ll die.”

“Dylan!” I choke out. I’m his killer.

“Isla, it’s okay.” He squeezes my hand, and his expression is entirely unbothered.

“But is it true?” I’m breaking that Dylan is going to die. A world without him in it is the worst thing I can imagine. Pointless. Bleak.

“They’re all being melodramatic,” Thoreau tells me, raising his voice above the chaos of everyone talking. “An immortal shares their lifespan with their human mate. We aren’t technically immortal anyway. Just very long-lived. And when mated, the mate gains a share of those years, so you die at the same time.”

“You’ll live a lot longer than a normal human,” Dylan explains easily, as though this is no big deal. “And we’ll be together. That’s everything I want.”

“He should have told you.” Pierre raises one eyebrow.

“What if she’d said no?” Dylan has a total absence of concern for his lie of omission. “There were enough things to talk about without muddying the waters with something I don’t care about. I want to be with Isla.” He dips his head. “You’re the only important thing.”

“But your life!” I protest.

There’s no doubt in his eyes when I look into them, though. There’s just clear, liquid blue. Bright.