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Lucien snorted to himself. Progress. Everything was going to fall apart now. He’d somehow been gifted two soul mates instead of only one. Unfortunately, one didn’t want him and the other argued with him at every turn.
There had to be something wrong with him. Why else would he need two soul mates? Even with two, he still couldn’t make it work.
He was not meant for relationships. He’d never been able to make one work. Not that he’d actually tried outside of the one that had tanked so badly. They were too much hassle. Too restrictive. He liked his freedom. He liked not having anyone to answer to or worrying about what anyone else wanted. The whole world was just waiting at his feet.
But all that came to an end when he was stuck in a relationship, right?
Doubly so with two mates, right?
No, he was better off as a solo.
Except his brothers in the Weavers Circle suffered if he couldn’t convince Gio to bond with him and Calder. It would mean one fewer person with powers to fight the pestilents.
And Calder suffered because he clearly cared about Gio.
Did that mean Calder cared for him as well?
Lucien’s treacherous mind immediately conjured up the image of Calder staring up at him with such an expression of wonder and…something Lucien didn’t dare put a name to. Lucien’s breath had caught in his throat and his heart had nearly pounded out of his chest. No one had ever looked at him like that. It was as though Calder had handed him the most precious gift in all the world.
He wasn’t worthy of a look like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve such a thing from Calder, to deserve any finer emotions.
Nope, it was all bullshit. Grey was mistaken. Maybe Calder and Gio were meant to be soul mates. Not him. He wasn’t supposed to have a soul mate. He was better alone. What the fuck did he care if Gio didn’t want anything to do with him? Fuck Gio.
There was a soft shuffle of footsteps through the grass, and Lucien immediately conjured up a fireball in his right hand, ready to fling it at the intruder. It was unlikely to be a pestilent, but then the bastards had found ways of sending emissaries through the protective field in the past. And he would really love to roast one of those assholes right now. Burn off a little of this excess energy.
Cort immediately lifted both hands in surrender, a crooked grin on his lips. “Whoa! No friendly fire, please.”
Lucien grunted and turned away from the newcomer, extinguishing the flames licking at his hand. He should have known one of them would follow him out, though he’d half expected it to be Clay demanding he haul his ass back into the house to fix this shit like it was his goddamn fault.
“Have you convinced yourself that Grey is full of shit and you don’t need a fucking soul mate?” Cort inquired in a light, almost teasing tone.
Lucien flinched because that was far closer to the mark than Cort should have been able to guess. “Your mate teaching you to read minds now?”
Cort surprised him by laughing. “Reading thoughts? No.”
There was something left hanging in the air after that statement. Lucien twisted around to look at Cort, his arms folded across his chest. “What?”
The smaller man shrugged slightly. “Turns out there’s more to my gift than I previously thought. It seemed like my only ability was to shield Grey’s mind and help him recover when he’s hurt. But over the past month, I’ve noticed that I can actually read the emotions from others, sort of like reading their thoughts.”
Lucien made a dismissive noise and started to pace again. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings with Cort. He didn’t need to. This was all bullshit. They should have been focusing on finding the Air Weaver and defeating the pestilents. That was the only thing that really mattered.
“Of course, I don’t need magic to read your emotions. I learned all about your type in college. Took plenty of psych courses to cover you.”
“Fuck off. I don’t need you or Grey psychoanalyzing me. If Gio doesn’t want anything to do with me and Calder, that’s fine. We shouldn’t be so hung up on this soul-mate nonsense. We need to get rid of the pestilents.”
“Except, you’re hurting, Lucien.”
“I’m not hurting, I’m angry. I’m fucking pissed!” he roared, pointing toward the house. “Who the hell does he think he is rejecting me? Rejecting Calder? After what we shared in bed. After how he was with Calder. Was all that concern an act with him? How can he turn it off and on like—like we don’t mean anything?”
Lucien drew himself up painfully straight and clenched his teeth together to keep more words from spilling out. He’d already said way more than he’d meant to. If he didn’t know better, he’d have suspected Cort had used magic on him, but there was something about Cort even before he was bonded to Grey; a person simply wanted to spill their guts to him. It didn’t hurt that he was an incredible listener.
