The grassy field was only fifty square yards, and it took them less than afew minutes to cover the length of it. They broke apart into smaller groups then, and Jamie walked every inch himself, picking up stones and debris that might be used as a weapon before giving them to Rowan and Leo to ferry out of bounds.
Gideon offered tactical advice about the topography and angles, as well as how to use the walls to his advantage. Nix had no plans to drag this out long enough to need that, but he tried to pay attention and asked questions when he thought of them.
Mostly, though, he held Gideon’s hand and tried not to stare—because this Gideon wasfire. A genius tactician who didn’t bother to hide his familiarity with violence, wrapped in a tall, muscled frame that looked unfairly good in jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.
Nix admitted to losing track of what was probably very good advice.
Grayson and Luca, however, had sat off to the side in the grass, with Tsuki’s head in Grayson’s lap. Luca offered tiny daisies to Grayson, who wove them into a delicate crown that looked lovely in Luca’s dark curls. He had taken on the job of subtly comforting the alpha, and Nix was so grateful because he was busy gradually locking his end of the bonds away, hoping they wouldn’t notice.
But Grayson’s mood had become even worse than the day before—grouchy and secretive, almost as if he could feel their soulbond fading, and Finn had taken a dose of headache meds before they’d left.
He hated it, but there was no choice—he didn’t want to transmit pain or fear along the bonds. The rules about interference were crystal clear, and Nix knew it wouldn’t be easy for his mates to let him step onto the field as it was.
Upon returning to the rental, Gideon, Le,o and Jamie had sequestered themselves in the study for hours after dinner last night, trying to come up with hypotheses about their second pressing concern: Patrick Carnell.
Gideon’s father—and an apparent psychopath.
Nix hadn’t even considered that Hayes wasn’t the scariest thing they needed to worry about, and frankly, he couldn’t think about it now. But Gideon and Jamie had sequestered themselves in the study for hours afterdinner last night, trying to come up with hypotheses about whynow.
Why was a trained sniper at their rental well before they arrived?
Why was he dead before they even arrived?
Why the interest in Nix?
Why, why, why?
There hadn’t been any easy answers—only frustration and a new level of hyper-vigilance. So, several hours later, Nix had dragged them both out for a pack puppy pile in the nest.
He hadn’t wanted to say it, but if he was going to die tomorrow—though he truly didn’t believe he would—then he wanted to spend his last night with the people he loved most.
Skin to skin, heart to heart, and soul to soul.
He runs his hand over his flat belly and allows himself a small smile.
A baby. A child of this amazing pack.
The tiny glimmers of gold swirl around his dimmed pack bonds, and they are so lovely. Nix wants to spend the whole day looking inward and watching them grow.
Before they’d fallen asleep, Nix had asked each of his mates to stay away. He knew they’d decline, but he also wanted to tell them it was okay—that he would understand. He knew they would insist that they were with him every step of the way, no matter how hard it would be.
It’s why he has to block the bond, after all.
He had planned to get up this morning to do the last bit of mental work alone, nailing his emotions down and practicing getting his scent locked up tight. He will not give Hayes the satisfaction of breathing in one more breath of his scent—or his child’s.
Pulling the familiar white sweater tightly around his shoulders, he creeps down to the main floor in the pale morning light, wrapped in the calming black currant scent. He’d found it in his bag this morning—a gift from Finn—and the thoughtful gesture had almost been enough to poke a hole in his emotional barricade.
The back door to the house is open a bit, and when he steps out onto the patio and looks over the railing, he can see Gideon down on the rocksbeside the choppy waters of a gray lake, sitting cross-legged with Tsuki nearby. He’s shirtless despite the cold, dressed in loose-fitting yoga pants. The wind is harsh, blowing his hair around his bowed head.
Nix just watches as he stands, turning suddenly with unerring accuracy to make eye contact with him over the distance. Nix raises his hand, offering a smile, and Gideon just stares for a moment before loping up over the rocky, craggy shore until he’s standing, wild-eyed, on the patio.
“Kitten.”
He opens his arms, and Nix can’t remember when he’d wanted to be anywhere else.
Gideon wraps him up in an embrace—his skin is surprisingly hot.
“Look at me.”
