Chapter 12
Gregory
Flames from the candles painted the dark red wine in our cups the color of fresh blood. Outside, the forest sank into its deep, nightly slumber. Inside my head, my instincts clashed with the maddening story this stranger had spun.
Restlessness consumed me. The alpha in my soul, a caged predator pacing the confines of my skull, refused to believe Evan was gone.
How could he be? The man sitting across from me wore his face, his body.
The fragrance of jasmine, though muted, was his.
Holding him had settled something primal deep inside me, a soul-deep knowledge that I recognized him as my other half.
My mate was here. Right here.
His story replayed in my mind as I grasped for any shred of clarity.
A soul from another world? A place devoid of magic?
It sounded similar to a tale a jester might tell for coin.
Even if I wished to believe his head was still unwell, the pieces fit together in such a way that had my gut clenching with a chilling certainty.
My Evan had been a Conduit. That truth tore apart everything I thought I knew.
Little was known about the portal mages. The Asterian Empire kept them as its most guarded secret. Living weapons forced to tear holes between places. Enslaved, branded, and broken, until they became nothing more than doorways for war mages and knight orders.
If what this stranger believed was true, that the portal had been a trade swapping his own soul into this body, then my mate was the one who opened the door.
He was the one who summoned the portal magic at the lake.
And if my Evan was a Conduit, the danger hadn’t passed.
The Empire never relinquished its property.
They would track his signature to the ends of the earth and hunt him to my very door.
Evan sized me up, a hunter assessing his prey, like I was the meal, not the roasted boar on his plate. His expression was bold and analytical, with a hunter’s grace that set every nerve in my body on high alert. I was the one being hunted in my own damn cabin.
Still, a dark, possessive part of me preened.
When I’d lit the stove with a flick of my finger, Evan had recoiled, his body slamming into the wood in a split second of panic, yet he hadn’t run.
He’d stayed, leaning into the heat even as his breath caught.
For the dragon blood inside me, that blend of fear and curiosity was like the sun’s warmth after a long winter.
A smile curved my lips, unbidden. I let a dark thought slip past my defenses, wondering if this Evan would enjoy my burning touch, if he would play with the fire I held inside, if he would allow me to scrape my claws all over his body.
I killed the thought the instant it formed. Such brutish thinking had to stop.
Underneath those thoughts, a deeper shame ambushed me—the shame of failing my most basic duty.
My omega cooked for me.
It was my duty to provide, to hunt, to bring the spoils to my mate’s feet. The boar I’d brought down should have been a courtship offering presented with ceremony, not a meal he had to prepare himself. I’d failed the most basic of rituals, betrayed my most fundamental role.
The man across from me sliced into his meat with methodical finesse that seemed out of place on Evan’s delicate features.
Was he a lie? An enemy wearing my mate’s skin?
The gentle florist who blushed when I looked his way for too long, the omega who brought me a potted plant because my cabin needed life, that person was gone.
Grief tightened its fist around my throat, a lament for the gentle man I’d so thoroughly pushed away.
The feeling was a ghost, swept aside by the undeniable hum of the bond.
It was still there, a nerve connecting me to this body, to the stranger within it.
The soul was different, but the pull was the same.
Primal. Fated.
Perhaps this was the goddess’s punishment, a cruel sort of forgiveness. She’d given me another chance, but only after proving how easily I could destroy the first one. Not taking my mate from me entirely, but giving me this stranger to win, this impossible test to prove I was worthy.
I’d hurt the other Evan, left him alone, and when omegas lose the will to live, their bodies shut down like flowers turning away from poisoned soil. But this Evan, stubborn and bold, would be mine. I’d be his safety, the one he could trust. No one would get to him without first facing me.
I’d failed before, and my mistake had cost someone their life, someone I should have protected. I wouldn’t let that happen again.
Our eyes locked over the rim of my cup as I took a sip of wine.
The Sunstone Crest red was the same bottle Lord William had presented with a theatrical flourish when I’d finished the cabin.
He was the ruler of Mossfen and the man who held the leash of my protections.
Unlike his brother Adam, who offered friendship, William dealt only in golden cages.
A housewarming gift for his “pet dragon,” he’d called it, an obscenely expensive vintage from the Valoren King’s private reserve. The gesture was a public display that doubled as a reminder that even in my self-imposed exile, I was still his most dangerous and valuable asset.
I had kept it out of pure spite. Sharing it now, with Evan, was its own form of possession. The wine itself was exceptional. Rich flavors of dark berries and smoke filled my mouth with warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
Evan took a bite of the boar, his jaw working slowly. “How long was I out?”
“Three days. You were unconscious for three days.” The ache behind my ribs had never left once during that time.
Every hour that Evan remained unconscious hammered another nail in the coffin of my worthlessness as a mate.
Between vigils, I tried to fix the damage from Alaric’s anger, mending the broken table, scrubbing away the blood stains, and making small repairs.
None of it fixed what truly mattered.
“Lyra was here the whole time,” I said, my eyes drifting to the empty chair she’d occupied. “She prepared meals that went untouched and brewed healing teas that went cold, but she never gave up on you.”
Lyra had kept vigil by the bed, only leaving for Adam’s when night descended. Come morning, she returned with fresh hope and supplies, resuming the same unbroken routine.
Evan seemed to absorb this information, his fork stopping midway to his mouth. He set it down on his plate. I waited before breaking the silence. “Is the meat to your liking?”
“It’s good.” He aligned his fork and knife on the plate with a soft chime. Evan moved with such effortless grace that it screamed of high breeding.
He leaned back in his chair, mirroring my posture.
Something shifted in his expression—that careful composure cracking at the edges.
He set his cup down with a hard thud that splashed wine onto the table.
“What’s bothering you now? Did that medicine you gave me break my nose?
I can’t smell you anymore. Or am I imagining things? ”
I clenched my hand into a fist under the table as I fought to contain the frustrated vibration in my chest.
This was madness.
He wanted to smell me, complained about the absence of the very thing that had nearly driven me to take him on the forest floor. A treacherous part of me wanted to let him, wanted to unleash my pheromones, wanted to wrap him in them until he was so dizzy he rubbed against my skin and—
“It’s not the suppressant,” I rasped. “They calm the pheromones, yes. But I am the one in control.” My gaze locked with his. “I’ve withdrawn any trace of my scent. With the Empire possibly hunting you, I won’t risk attracting more danger to this cabin.”
That was somewhat truthful. Easier to wall off that aspect of myself completely than to ride the storm of what his presence did to me. Easier than admitting my control was hanging by a thread.
Evan’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion, and a silent curse formed in my thoughts. He didn’t understand. The fact that he was a stranger here kept slipping my mind.
“Pheromones,” I explained, “are tied to our magic, a measure of its strength. Each one is unique, a signature that marks who we are.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. “It’s how we know our own. How mates find each other in a crowded room.”
Evan leaned in as well, resting an elbow on the table to prop his chin on his hand. He tilted the cup, the wine disappearing with each visible bob of his throat. Red flushed his lips, and only by clenching my fist under the table did I stop myself from reaching for him.
He lowered the cup, resting it loosely in his palm. “So, what is this, Eau de Gregory? Does everyone have their own personal brand?” A smirk quirked his lips. “Not much different from the sharks I know.” He tilted his head, a teasing sparkle in his gaze. “How strong are you, then?”
I held his stare as I made the promise. “Enough to burn the world for you.”
The playfulness on his face vanished. He straightened, finally setting the cup down with a sharp click and tugging at the sleeves of the tunic he wore, shaking his head slightly.
“I think I’m tipsy. Which is strange, because normally this would barely be enough wine to get me buzzed.” His eyes darted from me to my untouched plate. “Are you not eating? I quite like the mountain root. It’s sweet and savory at the same time.”
I swallowed my alpha’s demand for acknowledgment of the declaration I made.
My beast snarled at the dismissal, wanting to grip his chin and force him to accept the vow I’d laid at his feet.
It craved his awe, his recognition of the protection I offered.
But I forced the instinct down until my chest ached with the effort.
This moment of peace, however fragile, was more important than my wounded pride.
Picking up my fork, I finally took a bite of the cooling meat. Evan was right about the mountain root; the sweetness balanced perfectly with the savory herbs. We ate in silence after that, but it wasn’t as tense as before.
“Finished?” I asked when Evan stretched, leaning back in the chair until his muscles were taut.
“Yes.”
I rose from my chair and collected our plates. The scrape of ceramic against wood was loud in the quiet, but it was a welcome sound, signaling a shared meal.
Evan dropped his feet to the floor. “I haven’t peed all day, and I really need to.”
“I can take you out.”
“Thanks. You said I couldn’t go outside earlier, so I stayed.” He picked at a loose thread on his tunic, not meeting my eyes.
Fierce, possessive heat overflowed my veins. Evan had obeyed. This defiant man, who fought me with the fury of a cornered animal, had listened to my command. The need to care for him, to look after him, made my next words slip out. “Do you want to take a bath too?”
He nodded, his green eyes suddenly alert.
I walked to the hearth where I’d set his boots to dry after cleaning the mud from them.
The leather was firm now. I dropped to a knee in front of him and took one of his feet in my hand.
He went rigid, his eyes fixed and unreadable as I slid the first boot on, and remained perfectly still as I fitted the second. I rose to my feet and offered my palm.
“Come.” He stared at the gesture for a long beat before finally taking my hand.
Swinging the door open released a rush of night chill that carried the scent of pine and damp earth, causing a shiver to trace Evan’s arms. Fireflies blinked among the trees in the darkness. From the paddock, Thunder snorted.
I kept our hands clasped and led Evan down the three steps of the porch. The ground was firm with lingering mud beneath our feet, the well-worn path running alongside the cabin leading further into the shadows of the tall pines.
With a flick of my wrist, I summoned a few small orbs of light. They floated around us, gentle radiance pushing back the darkness and illuminating a small, windowless wooden building a few steps ahead. Little more than a box with a slanted roof and a simple plank door.
I loosened my grip and pointed toward the structure. “There.”
For all the magic I’d used, the destination was jarringly simple. A prickle of self-consciousness surprised me, wondering how crude the small building must seem to a man from another world.
Evan’s entire bearing tensed. The slight unsteadiness from the wine disappeared, and for a moment, he was stone sober. He squared his shoulders, took the last few steps, then opened the door. Looking inside, he let out a bitter laugh.
“Fuck my life.”