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“It would have to be. You two didn’t know the other existed for most of your life, so, of course, things are weird. It’s still sweet that he wants to know you. I kind of hope that your other siblings do too, honestly. I’ve always wanted a big family.”
My heart stuttered at her casual admittance. “Oh? Are we family now?”
Teasing her was easier than overcoming the spark of resentment that tried to fester when she was being sweet. Even though I knew she didn’t care about Barimuz, that it was only because he’d been wearingmyface that she’d been flirty and sweet and happy at all, that little niggle of doubt wouldn't leave me be.
Although Aria never commented on those feelings when they tried to rear their ugly heads, I knew she had to feel them down the bond. I didn’t know if I felt grateful or guilty for it.
“Of course, we are, Sariel,” she crooned. “You’re literally stuck with me for the rest of our lives. Mate bonds are forever.”
That didn’t sound so bad when she smiled at me like that, and when I said as much, she giggled and leaned up to kiss me.
It was just a brush of skin, but it felt like lightning sparking through me. My hands gripped her hips a little rougher than I meant to at the sensation—not that she minded. Her arms coiled around my neck and held me close, playing with the hair at my nape.
My little mate was more vixen than wolf, though. She slipped away and headed for the shower so smoothly, I hadn’t even realized what she’d done until she shut the door behind her.
5
BACK ONLINE
ARIA
Iwas obsessed with the laptop Auren gave me. It wasn’t necessarily better than a phone or anything, but it wassomeconnection to the outside world.
It was alsomine, so I treated it like a child.
Sariel thought it was hilarious seeing me tote it around the compound at all hours of the day, then settle in to scroll news feeds and other sources of information whenever I could. I avoided logging into my personal accounts on anything, though, too scared of what I would find after the Upper Council had revealed me as a hybrid.
The memory of my coworkers, who I’d been completely friendly with, rattling off my supposedly aggressive outbursts was burned into my brain. I had no doubt that a troll or three, who didn’t know me at all, had looked me up when we’d escaped.
Sure, the war was probably the big, hot topic right about now, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t find a few hundred nasty messages or tags online from back when the topic had been me.
Flipping through the news articles that popped up on my homepage, I smiled.
Most of it was pro-Resistance at the very least, but a lot more of it than I’d expected was even pro-hybrid. Several sites were running the same story about different scientists and doctors coming forward with new theories and information, all of it disproving that hybrids were much different from anyone else, outside of a few biological anomalies that came from combining specific genes.
Of course, there were naysayers, people who refused to accept new information when they’d spent so long believing the Council’s lies. ‘Our great leaders justcan’tbe wrong,’ was the brainwashed consensus, and the Upper Council was eating it up.
The fact still remained that they had officially lost control of the situation.
And I’d never been happier.
There were several articles that were personal accounts from fallen-blood wolves about their mistreatment by society as a whole—and particularly by Azazel Ambrose. I flinched at every recounting I came across, wondering if they were brave or stupid. Most of them were graphic; I couldn’t help the way my skin crawled at the horror stories that unfolded.
All of this was talked about under pseudonyms, of course, but it gave me an idea. A potentially crazy one, but an idea all the same.
I stared at the keyboard with hesitation. Writing about my mistreatment as a hybrid was probably a terrible idea. There was no guarantee that what I said would be accepted as fact, and people would probably insist that I’d brought it all upon myself. Not to mention some people might feel like I was taking away their spotlight. Here they were, discussing their issues as fallen-blood wolves, and while I was half-them, they might take offense to me redirecting attention to me.
I decided to have Auren weigh in, if only because he was the leader of our movement, and it seemed like the right thing to do. The man was one of the most level-headed people I knew, happy to weigh the pros and cons of everything before making a decision. So, after closing the laptop and tucking it under my arm—its charger fisted in my free hand—I headed towards his little studio apartment.
He was right where I’d expected him to be, arms folded across his chest as he stared up at the monitors littering his desk. They were covered in different video feeds that showed parts of the compound but also some places I didn’t recognize.
“You could knock,” he drawled, then gave me a grin to show he was joking.
I kicked the door shut behind me and made myself comfortable on the foot of his bed, folding my legs. Once I was situated, I looked at him thoughtfully. “I have a crazy question.”
“Shoot.”
His aviators were pushed to the top of his head so that he could look me in the eye as he spun to face me, and I couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.
