Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MIKO
Orion snored, a foghorn if ever I heard one.
Mouth wide, cheeks rouged by the effects of alcohol, wavy hair a mess of scarlet, his features no less beautiful.
He slept prettily, if noisily.
I got him a blanket, spreading it across his slender frame.
“Who are you?” I asked, reaching for an errant strand of his hair.
Cherries and gin drifted into my senses, drawing my fingers closer to the lock of scarlet curled across his forehead.
“Who are you?” I whispered again, an alien warmth spreading through my body. It made my toes tingle.
The moment my fingers brushed his hair, a spark of electricity went off. I pulled my hand back.
Again? What the fuck? This curiosity, this attraction, all of it had to stop because there was nowhere for it to go.
I inspected my fingers. Orion stirred, then snored on, lost to drunken dreams.
There was a knock on my door, my beta’s apple-like scent wafting into my flat.
I called for James to enter. He hurried inside, a sparkly blue cap on his head.
“Sir? What happened? I heard voices.”
I nodded at the fae on my sofa. “Why’s he drunk?”
James came to look. “Oh, God. He had one gin. He did say booze from Earth reacted differently with fae, but bloody hell.”
“And you let him drink?”
“He insisted, sir. Those snores are way too loud for such a skinny lad.”
“Tell me about it.”
James stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Why is he here, sir?”
“Because of my failure to communicate properly.” I shook my head. “You were right, James. I never should’ve taken him to the foot tunnel.”
James’s arguments had been met with fierce rebuttals from me this morning.
“Have you told him anything?” my beta asked.
“Not about the dreams.”
“I think you should.”
Orion’s head rolled to the side, the snoring easing off.
“I’ve upset him.”
“Make it right. When he’s not drunk.”
How could I have dragged Orion into danger like that? And why was he always inside me? Not just the figure in my dreams, but there behind my eyes, a constant presence lingering at the edges of my mind.
Fuck.
“I will.”
“That’s good, sir.”
I cocked a brow. “Just one gin?”
“It wasn’t even a big pour.”
“Impressive. Though not for him.”
“Sir?”
I kept my eyes on the fae. “Yes?”
“Be careful with him.”
I faced him. “What?”
“Orion. I don’t know him so I’m making quick judgments, but I think you should be careful with him. He seems like he’s a good guy and has been through a lot. After all, he’s trapped here. God only knows how painful it must be for him. Take it easy. I think he could be awesome to have around.”
A brief, sharp pain assaulted my temples. “I’ve always trusted your judgment. I failed to this morning.”
“Hey, it’s understandable. This is the first possible link to the oracle we’ve had in ages.”
My search for an end to Dawn clouded my vision sometimes, leaving me desperate. Putting men like Orion in danger.
“Reset with him tomorrow,” James said.
“I will.”
“Tell him everything. Then the rest of the pack. You have to.”
“I will.”
A loyal and warm soldier, James had served as my beta for the last ten years, after I became alpha of this pack at the age of twenty, leader to every wolf in the southern territories of England, responsible for eighty people—now diminished to four due to death and desertions.
I was rapidly becoming a relic, no need for packs anymore.
Survival of the fittest or hurtling toward the end of the world, those were the only real options now.
Only, I held onto the hope of a third, world-healing option.
How that healing would play out, I didn’t know.
But something was out there, I felt it in my bones.
“Do you want me to put him back in his flat, sir?” James asked.
“He can stay here for the night.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Is there anything you need?”
“Some time to think.”
“With those snores?”
Orion’s volume increased once again. “I’ll be fine.”
James held up his arms. “Rather you than me.”
“I’ll speak to you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, James.”
I sat in the armchair opposite the sofa, finding too much of my attention on the fae. On the rosy, glossy pink of his lips. The sharpness of his cheekbones, the threads of scarlet in his lashes, the aroma of cherries potent in the air.
“Who are you?” I whispered, strange vibrations on my skin.