But the interaction stirs a deeper unease in me, a reminder that since arriving in this world, royalty—the realm itself—has been my enemy.Ourenemy. And yet here they are. Here, in our supposedly hidden headquarters.
What the hell is Varek doing letting them in here?
CHAPTER
TWO
A twitchof his fingers and a low moan alerts me to the man waking. I sit up, placing the Mills & Boon circa 1975 down before standing and closing the door. While the headquarters is no longer a flurry of activity—the prince, his royal guard, plus the humans and the Pyronox gone (to where I have no idea)—I don’t know how the guy is going to react when he fully wakes.
He’s warmed up, at least, his skin no longer cool to the touch. The poor guy has the worst case of chapped lips, though. A blanket is tucked up to his chest, covering his bare legs, and his snow-boots, which Aeroth and I removed, are on the floor near the closed door.
Aeroth is out of the room, which is probably a good thing. We have no idea who this man is, when he arrived, or what he’s been through. Though based on the gossip I’ve heard while waiting, I think he came through at the same time as the guy wearing an Akubra (so I assume he’s Aussie) and the kid who’s with him, which means he’snotfrom this morning’s rift. But that’s not even thebiggossip.
Apparently, this guy is the prince’s mate.
Like, what the fuck? For one, poor guy.
The prince and his family—the queen in particular—are the reason why we’re at risk, are hiding, and this whole rebellion was formed in the first place.
And two? He’s found his fated mate, or at least, his fated mate’s found him. Not to sound like a jealous bitch, but how the fuck is that fair?
Okay, so maybe I’m feeling a little hard done by. Not that it’s his fault, so I’ll keep my self-pity locked away tightly.
But back to the guy who’s slowly waking up. Trying to keep him calm while promising him he’s safe and building his trust so I can get answers is my job… my mission. And I intend to impress the hell out of Varek.
Doing so might actually get me away from being a general dogsbody. Not that I’m not willing to support the settlement however is needed, but still, being pulled in so many directions is frustrating.
Another groan and his eyeballs move rapidly behind his eyes before his lids flicker.
“Hey,” I say quietly, wanting to forewarn him that he’s not alone. “You’re safe. Just take your time opening your eyes, but know that you’re in our compound and you’re safe here.”
He stiffens. Completely. Like a deer caught in the headlights, or more accurately, like a bloke waking up in an unknown place, surrounded by God knows what, and realising he might be royally screwed.
Yeah, that tracks.
I hold up my hands in what I hope is a universal I-come-in-peace gesture. “Hey, mate, you’re safe. Just breathe, yeah? No one’s gonna hurt you.”
His breathing is shallow, chest barely moving beneath the blanket, his wide eyes darting around the dimly lit room. When he spots the boots by the door, his whole body tenses further, like he’s bracing for something.
Right. Reassurance time.
“Look, I get it. This place is weird as hell. Trust me, I had a full-blown existential crisis when I landed here. Thought I’d actually carked it and was in some kind of purgatory for all the times I skipped paying my club bar tab. But, nah, turns out, it’s just another world. Lucky us, right?” I give a dry chuckle, hoping humour might break through whatever terrified spiral he’s in.
His gaze finally flicks to me, wary but slightly less frozen. I take that as a win.
“So, uh, I’m Sonny. Aussie. Club promoter from Sydney. Got sucked into this joint thanks to a lightning storm that nearly made me crap my undies.” I gesture vaguely to the ceiling. “Long story. But the point is, I know what it’s like to wake up here and have no bloody clue what’s going on.”
His throat bobs as he swallows. He’s still tense, but some of the sheer panic is fading from his face. That’s good. He’s listening.
“How about you? You okay?” I ask. “Or, well, as okay as someone can be when they’ve just been yeeted through dimensions?”
His lips part, and for a second, I think he might stay silent. Then, finally, he speaks. “I’m okay. Achy, but I’ll live.” The sound of his voice makes me jolt.
Australian. No mistaking it.
Well, bloody hell. He definitely must have come through with the other Aussies.
“Where in Aus you from?” I ask, leaning forwards slightly. “Sydney? Melbourne? Please don’t say Brisbane, or I’ll have to start treating you with mild suspicion.”
