The brush of a warm body pressing against my arm startles me. It’s Varek. I hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. His presence is immediately reassuring.
As I release a steadying breath, building up to call the prince a dickhead, I jolt at the gruff and absolutely menacing growl.
My gaze snaps to Kael in surprise. The fuck is he growling for? If he thinks for one second that his pain-in-the-arse prince can?—
Varek’s heat leaves my side, the growling cuts off, and loud pounding erupts in my ears.
What the holy fucking shit?
My eyes focus on Kael. He’s staring hard at the place where Varek pressed against me.
That growl was low, guttural, and unmistakably possessive. I blink, barely processing the weight of Kael’s stare locked on Varek before my brain jumps to the most ridiculous conclusion possible.
Holy shit.
Varek is Kael’s mate.
It makes no fucking sense, but my thoughts latch onto it anyway. That’s the only explanation for the primal sound rumbling deep in Kael’s chest, for the way his body went rigid the second Varek touched me. Right?
Except… no. That can’t be it.
Varek’s been here for years, long before I ever stumbled into this world. And from what I understand, the bond doesn’t wait. It doesn’t delay. It sinks its claws in the moment the two fated souls are in the same space.
And Kael?
The guy has never looked at Varek with anything other than distant civility, the same way he regards every other person in this compound. Except for me when I think I’d have burnt to cinders a couple of times.
So then why the hell is he all growly and ridiculous?
There’s a flicker of something sharp and unwanted in my chest, a quiet, ridiculous longing. Not that I want him to be mymate. Fuck that. I don’t need some walking, brooding inferiority complex tied to me for eternity.
But if he were, I would know, wouldn’t I?
I swallow, pushing the thought down, trying to ignore the way it needles at me. Humans don’t feel the bond like others do. That’s what I’ve been told. That’s what I know. We don’t get the soul-deep certainty, the overwhelming pull, not until the bonding starts.
Not that it matters. Kael is not my mate. And I don’t care.
Before I can ask what the hell his problem is, the sharp, jerking motion of a body seizing pulls my attention back. Dawson convulses violently.
“Aelith, put him down!” My voice rings out, loud and powerful. I hadn’t even realised he’d tugged him back into his arms.
The prince doesn’t listen. His grip tightens on Dawson, as if sheer force of will alone will stop whatever is happening.
Aelith’s snarl is absolutely inhuman. Monstrous. His glowing eyes snap up to me, and the weight of his fury is terrifying. His power crackles around him, a barely leashed storm. But I don’t give a shit.
I shove forwards, only for Kael to move at the same time, positioning himself between us before Aelith can do something stupid. His voice is steady, calm in a way that seems to cut through the prince’s spiralling rage.
“He is trying to help, Aelith.” Kael’s hand grips on his prince’s shoulder, his hold firm but not forceful. “Let him.”
Aelith hesitates. Just for a second.
It’s enough.
I drop to Dawson’s side as his body writhes, his limbs jerking in unnatural, painful spasms. My training kicks in, the old muscle memory of my first-aid courses and long nights working clubs in Sydney taking over.
“Shit—someone help hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself.” It’s usually the wrong thing to do, but the room is laden with things to injure himself on. And this definitely isn’t anything like any epileptic fits I’ve seen over the years.
Varek moves in first, his sheer size making it easy for him to keep Dawson’s shoulders pinned. I shift to keep his head steady, my hands cradling it carefully to stop him from smashing it against the hard frame.
