He’s been acting increasingly…weird.One moment he’s cold and distant, the next he’s protective, almost possessive. The way he’s been acting with Emmett today has been driving me mad, reopening old wounds I thought had long since scarred over.
Kieran has no right to step up and pretend like he’s my mate after everything he’s said and done. We haven’t even seen each other in years, haven’t spoken a single word face-to-face sincehe rejected me. To have him snarling and growling, standing between me and another man—it just feels wrong.
At the same time, part of me can’t help but admit that it feels oh-so-very right. He’s meant to be at my side, the broken mate bond insists. Each time he comes close enough for me to smell, to touch, to look into his ice blue eyes, that old wound reopens and flares to life.
But there’s no time right now for me to sort through all my contradictory emotions. I focus instead on the task at hand: the madness the fae are spreading faster and faster by the day.
Now that we’re somewhere with cell phone service, I fire off a quick text to Carrie and Dana. Carrie gets back quickly, promising to “…find whatever information may help you, XOXO Gran.”
Dana, of course, sends me a series of questions like: “Have you chopped his nuts off yet?” and “tell me you chopped his nuts off.”
“Not yet,” I respond to her, “but I’ll keep it in mind.”
No one hates a woman’s ex quite as much as her BFF. When it comes to hating Kieran, Dana has a graduate degree in inventive ways to cut off his body parts.
Based on all the notes I’ve taken, and the things I know from Gran, it seems like the fae are searching for a foothold in our world. Specifically on the pack lands. But questions remain, like why they’re doing it, and how it is that they’re spreading the madness so quickly.
Questions I’m hoping I’ll be able to answer soon.
I head out of my room with my notes tucked under my arm and almost immediately feel a stabbing pain in the left side of my chest. I don’t have to turn around to know that the footsteps I hear behind me belong to Kieran.
“Headed to dinner?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just strides up to stand beside me, so close that his scent tortures me with every inhale. “I’ll escort you.”
Shooting him a glare, I point out, “I’m perfectly capable of walking down a hallway by myself.”
“Of course you are—I’m the one who needs an escort.” He gives me a sheepish smile that shouldn’t be so charming. “I have no idea which fork is the salad fork and which is the entree fork.”
“Really?”
“Well, that and I may or may not have offended Alpha Thorin when I was here all those years ago.” Kieran rubs the back of his neck with his hand, one of his more obvious nervous tics that I thought he’d outgrown. “He kind of heard me insulting his cooking. And also I got into the liquor cabinet.”
I whistle. “Your dad must’velovedthat.”
“Thorin never told him. Didn’t want me to get in trouble.” Something shadowed passes over Kieran’s face. “Anyway, he probably doesn’t remember it, but I didn’t want to go to dinner solo just in case.”
“I’m not sure how I help you look more presentable. After all, I’m the pack outcast without a wolf,” I point out to him. “The only thing I’ve got going for me is some very sketchy research and a few things Gran told me about the fae.”
“That’s more than I’ve got going for me. Besides, don’t sell yourself short,” he says, “you’ve also got a waterlogged motorcycle.”
I elbow him in the side, and we share a laugh—one that I quickly cut off with a wince. The broken mate bond throbs inside me, a reminder that no matter what he says now, Kieran has already judged me and found me wanting.
If I were enough for him, this pain would be gone.
We enter Thorin’s dining room to discover a long oak table covered in assorted dishes that make my mouth water. Thorin isstanding on the other side, right in the middle, leaning between two shifters sitting next to each other. He says something that makes them laugh, then straightens as Kieran and I enter.
There are at least a dozen shifters sitting around the table, all of their plates empty. They’re talking in low voices and glancing around, almost as if they’re waiting for someone to enter. I look over my shoulder, wondering who’s going to take the seat at the head of the table.
If they’re waiting for someone important, at least that means I won’t have to go over my research tonight. I can wait until I’ve talked to Gran on the phone, make sure that?—
“You’re here.” Alpha Thorin’s deep, masculine voice interrupts my thoughts. I look back at him in horror as he gestures toward the head of the table. “Aurora Blackburn, we’ve been waiting for you to arrive. Please, take a seat—your escort can sit beside you, on the left.”
A prickle of unease shoots up my spine. Surely he didn’t just call Kieran my escort…? But the alpha-to-be seems unfazed by the designation, and takes his seat like he was made for it.
Thorin, meanwhile, is pulling out the chair at the head of the table and looking at me expectantly.
I have an out-of-body experience as I walk his way. Suddenly I’m floating above the long oak table, watching myself as I take the seat. I distantly hear the sound of my voice thanking Thorin. Then he takes a seat to the right of me, and looks over in anticipation.
Kieran reaches for a spoon stuck in the bowl of mashed potatoes right in front of me, only for Thorin’s level glare to make him snatch that hand right back faster than if he’d been slapped.
