Chapter 14
Gregory
Finding the crystal in the churned-up mud was a maddening feat—a swath of dark river pebbles the storm had hurled onto the bank swallowed the small stone.
I turned my back on the sound of Evan’s broken sobs coming from the edge of the trees.
Every pained gasp was a whip against my soul, urging me to abandon the search and go to him.
Brutal heat simmered in my veins, the impulse to unleash my draconic fire and melt the entire clearing to glass clawing at my throat.
I compressed the destructive thought into a searing needle, blurring the world into a landscape of gray energy signatures. I hunted for the discordant pulse, the tremor of power that did not belong to the earth.
There it was. A wounded, dying spark buried in the muck.
The trance broke. I strode to the spot and plunged my hand into the cold dirt, closing my fingers around the fractured stone.
I jogged back to where Thunder stood as a silent guardian over Evan’s crumpled form.
The moment I swung into the saddle, Evan moved with a desperate, ingrained reflex.
He jumped, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the saddle.
I leaned down and caught him under the arms, lifting him the rest of the way.
He locked his arms and legs around me, plastering his body to mine.
I wrapped an arm around his waist and locked him tight against my chest.
I savored the hard press of him, the frantic beat of his heart against my ribs.
He was mine. The thought was automatic, instinctual.
Even in his confusion, his body knew where to seek shelter.
But beneath that possessive surge, icy fear took root.
Evan was clinging to a man with a past that could get them both killed.
I dreaded the day he learned what kind of monster he held onto.
I leaned closer, my breath ghosting against his ear. “We have to go. We need to see Lyra’s father. He must know Mordaine is close, and he might be able to help with this.”
Evan gave a jerky nod against my shoulder, his panic receding into shaky breaths, though he continued to grip my shirt tightly. The instinct to wrap him up and calm his trembling with my scent was a compulsion I couldn’t entirely suppress.
The moment was a dangerous echo of last night.
Evan had writhed in his sleep, his limbs thrashing against the blankets, small, wounded whimpers escaping his lips.
I had battled the urge to go to him for hours, pacing the cabin floor while the need to hold him, to shield him with my own body, became torment.
In the end, I had surrendered, sliding into the bed beside him, and he’d turned in his sleep, pursuing my warmth. That was when my control fractured. Just a fraction. I let the sandalwood bleed out, a silent command for my beast to settle and for my mate to find peace.
I had spent the rest of the night rigid, fighting the compulsion to do more than be his anchor in the dark.
Now, his body told the same story. He was an omega seeking his alpha. If I was wrong about this, then I knew nothing.
Once Evan settled, I guided Thunder into a slow walk. The path to Adam’s was etched into my memory, but today, every shadow loomed with menace. Evan’s body slowly lost its tense edge, and the silence that stretched between us was no longer fraught.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice almost lost over the horse’s steps. “Where I’m from, I take care of myself. I’m not used to anyone… helping.”
I tightened my hand at his waist. “An alpha protects what is his,” I said, my chest swelling with pride.
A blush spread across Evan’s cheeks, making his freckles stand out against the wet shimmer of his eyes. I moved my hand from his waist, brushing the back of my knuckles against the softness of his cheek.
“We’re here,” I grunted.
Evan shifted away to get a better look. Adam’s house stood ahead on the hillside, the path leading to a wide, open yard. Unlike my small cabin, this was a warrior’s home, built to last. It had thick stone at the base, two stories of dark timber, and a slate roof that soaked up the sun.
Adjoining one side was a stable with its doors open, and a fenced-in yard held a handful of noisy goats. Their bleating and the clatter of a metal pan were the only noises to break the stillness; the usual birdsong had completely faded.
Adam stood in the yard with his back to us. When Thunder stopped, he straightened and turned. He wore a sleeveless leather jerkin that matched his dark skin, and I could tell by his grinning spark that he was glad to see us. I braced for the teasing I knew was coming.
The house’s red wooden door creaked open, and Adam’s first jibe died on his lips.
Lyra appeared on the threshold, wiping her hands on a white apron with fine blue stitching at its hem.
The apron swayed gently over her dress of soft blue wool, and her hand went to her chest as her attention fixed on us.
She gave us a small, hopeful smile, an expression of pure relief washing over her face.
Evan tensed in my arms, his gaze fixed on the two of them. I gave his back a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright.”
I swung down from Thunder first, then turned to help Evan. My hands spanned his waist, lifting him from the saddle. Once his feet were on the ground, he paused to tug at the hem of his blouse and straighten his shoulders, his posture becoming regal as he took a deep, fortifying breath.
“Ready?” I asked.
He bit his lip and gave a small, courageous nod. My hand rested firmly against the small of his back as we walked the few feet toward the old knight.
“Evan, this is Adam.” My own posture straightened with a respect I reserved for him alone. “Lyra’s father. He is the master of the forge where I work and the man to whom I owe everything.” I nodded toward the door. “And Lyra, you’ve met.”
Evan stepped forward and extended his hand to Adam. My stomach dropped. Was he inviting him to spar? Does this beautiful yet maddening stranger have a death wish by challenging a seasoned knight like Adam?
Adam’s confusion was plain before he wiped his hands on his belt.
He took Evan’s hand, and a crackle of energy flashed between their palms. Evan flinched and yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned.
I closed the distance in a single step, reaching him as fear started to replace the shock on his face.
“A bad habit of his,” I interjected.
Evan rubbed his stinging fingers, letting out a shaky breath. “Let me guess. Magic. Electricity.”
I allowed myself a small smile. “Yes.”
“What in the blazes is going on, Gregory?” Adam demanded, his gaze whipping between the two of us.
“Inside,” I said, nodding toward the house.
Adam’s expression hardened with the grim understanding of an old commander of the Asterian Order. “Of course,” he said, turning toward the house and motioning for us to follow.
Evan hesitated briefly, glancing at Lyra once more, and she responded with an encouraging smile. He drew in another fortifying breath, squared his shoulders, and fell into step beside me as we followed Adam up the stone path.
We entered the warmth of the main room, where a cavernous stone hearth dominated one wall. Two long couches, cushioned with oiled brown leather that had softened with years of use, faced each other across a low table carved from a single piece of oak.
Lyra gestured for Evan and me to take one of the couches before she disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a tray filled with small honey cakes, their sticky glaze shining, and thick slices of cured ham, their edges darkened with spices.
Evan took a few with a grateful murmur, but I couldn’t eat. My stomach was a knot of iron, the dread of what I had to reveal killing any appetite.
Lyra set the tray on the low table that separated us from Adam, who now sat opposite on the other couch. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his scrutiny intense enough to strip away all pretense.
“Father,” Lyra chastised Adam, enough to make him sigh and lean back into the couch cushions, breaking his focus.
“I had a feeling I’d be seeing you.” Adam’s voice was a deep baritone. “But not this soon.”
The emphasis was an obvious barb. He’d expected me to eventually succumb, to fall into a rut with Evan.
Lyra must have told him of Evan’s state, knowing a rut for me was never anything simple, but a dangerous, all-consuming affair.
Evan cleared his throat, his confusion directed at me, and I cursed under my breath.
“That’s not what matters right now. This is—” I cut myself off, opening my pouch to place the fractured crystal on the low table in front of him.
Adam’s face lost its last hint of warmth, replaced by a stony expression. He reached for a small side table, took a pair of spectacles from a drawer, and perched them on his nose.
He picked up the broken stone, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. His eyes widened behind the glass. A faint silver spark kindled in their depths, the telltale of his magic stirring.
“What is the meaning of this?” The question had barely left his lips when the warm sunshine flooding the room vanished, plunging us into a threatening twilight. White light flashed through the window, and a sudden burst of lightning streaked across the sky.