Varek has gone to bat for me so many times—and everyone in our community, including the arsehole members. It’s becauseof that he has my loyalty. Not to say I’ll roll over if I don’t agree with what he’s saying. Case in point is me not pushing Dawson to meet Aelith. I’ve yet to explain the whole “fated mates” thing, and for whatever reason, after my slip yesterday, Dawson hasn’t yet brought it back up. Thankfully.
“Right. Sure thing.” Dawson doesn’t seem convinced, but the guy is taking it all in his stride.
He runs a hand through his messy light brown hair, eyes flicking between me and the hallway ahead. “So, this Varek guy,” he says, voice still rough with sleep. “He’s not gonna, like… do a mind probe on me or anything, right?”
I snort. “No, Dawson, he’s not gonna mind-probe you.”
He squints. “You said he can tell if I’m lying.”
“Yeah, but not by, like, reading your brain.”
Dawson doesn’t look particularly reassured. “Right. Just… by tearing out the truth like some kind of interrogation wizard?”
I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I said siphon out the truth, not rip it out. He’s not psychic. He just… has a way of knowing when someone’s full of shit.”
“Great,” he mutters. “Guess I better not lie, then.”
I shoot him a look. “You planning to?”
“No, but what if I accidentally do?” He spreads his arms in exasperation. “Like, what if I say something wrong and he thinks I’m shady? I’ve been here a day, mate. Half the time, I don’t even know what the hell I’m talking about.”
If that’s the case, he’s got a point.
I sigh and pat his shoulder. “Just be yourself.”
Dawson tilts his head, considering. “You sure? Because back home, being myself mostly involves avoiding responsibility, snowboarding, and convincing tourists I know more about wine than I do.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Varek will appreciate honesty.”
He hums. “And if he doesn’t?”
I flash him a grin. “Then we run.”
He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fantastic. Love that for us.”
The door ahead slides open with a hiss, and we step into one of the private meeting rooms used for sensitive discussions.
Varek is already inside, his hulking form leaning against the table, arms crossed. He straightens when we enter, those piercing silver eyes locking onto Dawson in a way that makes the poor guy visibly tense.
I don’t blame him.
Varek is humanoid, but only just. His deep, iridescent purple skin shifts under the dim lights, an oil-slick shimmer rolling over his massive frame. His horns curve elegantly from his temples, framing a face that is both striking and unnerving.
It’s not just his size that makes him intimidating—it’s his presence. It commands. Like he could crush you without moving a muscle.
But instead of an immediate interrogation, he studies Dawson for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his eyes flick to me before returning to Dawson. His voice is low, but not unkind. “You were unconscious when you arrived.”
Dawson nods. “Yeah, apparently.”
Varek tilts his head slightly. “And when you woke, you were… cold?”
Dawson blinks. “I guess? I dunno. I was more focussed on the whole ‘where the hell am I’ thing.”
I frown. “Wait, so the whole cold thing wasn’t because he’d been out in the snow?” As soon as I speak, I scrunch my nose, realising that it obviously wasn’t since he’d been here, well away from the snow in Portugal, for a few days.
Varek’s gaze lingers on Dawson before shifting back to me. “When Aeroth examined him, his body temperaturewas noticeably lower than expected. Not dangerously so, but unusual.”
I process that, recalling how cool Dawson was to the touch. “Okay… but why?”
