Chapter 29
Robbie raced back to the cabin, eager to see Nadja. The whole run back, he’d gone over what he might say to her.
“I love you. I don’t care where we are. We can live here. We can live in World’s End. We can live on the fucking moon. Just let me be with you.”
He knew it was soon. He’d known her for two weeks.
He’d been sleeping with her for only one of those.
But deep down in the part of his gut that had never led him astray when he’d listened to it, he knew that he belonged with her.
Maybe fated mates were real. Maybe they weren’t.
Robbie didn’t pretend to understand how the divine worked, and he likewise didn’t presume to claim to be an expert on the workings of fate.
At the end of the day, however, it didn’t matter.
Fate or not, he was a creature with free will, and he was choosing her.
He burst through the front door like Kramer.
“Nadja! Nadja, baby, are you here?”
He could tell by the stillness in the cabin, the complete silence of the space, that she wasn’t there.
He froze in the doorway and inhaled a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes and letting the wolf part of him come forth.
So very close to the surface, so eager to break free, he let the beast scent the air.
He smelled her. He smelled himself. He smelled the sex from that morning, the earthy, tangy aroma that clung to the air and sheets.
He smelled sugar and cinnamon. He smelled burnt sugar.
And lingering, laced through it all, was something else.
Another burning smell, more acrid, almost sulfuric.
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head quickly.
The logical part of his brain told him that she probably went to the rec hall or out on some errand with Rose.
But the part of his gut that knew he was a wolf and knew he was her wolf also knew that something had happened here.
He walked slowly into the cabin. Nothing was out of place except for the fact that her shoes were missing.
He went to the bedroom first. She’d made the bed, pulling the quilt up under the pillows and smoothing it.
She’d folded her pajamas and put them at the foot of the bed.
A cold, half-drunk cup of coffee sat on the nightstand.
He backed out of the bedroom and went back to the living room. The plush blanket was folded and draped over the armrest of the sofa. The puzzle they’d been working on was still laid out on the coffee table. The sense of wrongness was blaring like an alarm in his brain now.
He walked the few steps to the kitchen. The drying rack was full of dishes.
Three mixing bowls and a few baking sheets.
Measuring cups and spoons. The plates from dinner last night.
The sink was empty and sparkling clean. The counters had been wiped down even though the scent of baked goods hung in the air.
He turned to the small kitchen table. In the center was a plate of cookies covered in plastic wrap.
They looked awful, and he couldn’t help but smile.
She couldn’t cook to save her life, but she had made him cookies anyway.
He looked around and tried telling himself that everything was fine.
Her shoes were gone because she was out with Rose or one of the other pack members.
And all this wrongness he felt, the sudden avalanche of panic was just because of the looming shift.
Everything was fine. He’d take these cookies down to the rec hall.
Someone would appreciate them, and he had more than enough to share.
He’d brag to the pack about how thoughtful his mate was.
That word—mate—sent a thrill down to his toes to even think about.
He picked up the plate and noticed a piece of paper on the table underneath.
He realized in that moment that he’d never really looked at her handwriting. He’d never had an occasion to. She wrote in a tight, neat cursive.
Robbie,
I had to go back. I wished I could have told you in person, but there wasn’t time. I’m so sorry, but Rose promised me that you’ll be safe here. They’ll let you stay. I hope tonight goes well. I know you’re going to be a beautiful wolf. I really wanted to see it, but my time here is up.
Thank you for everything. The past week has been the best of my entire life, both on this plane and Hell. I’ll never forget it, just like I’ll never forget you. Take care of yourself, please. And have the best life.
Love,
Nadja
Have the best life? Have the best life? He felt as if all of the blood in his body fell to his feet and his stomach roiled.
He raced for the bathroom and collapsed to his knees before the toilet, vomiting so hard that his vision went spotty and dark.
He clutched the note in one hand, wiping his mouth with the back of the other before reaching up to flush the toilet.
His mouth tasted awful and his body felt worse.
He didn’t know which was worse, the anger that raced through his veins like a lit fuse, or the desolation that ripped at his insides like talons.
He shakily rose to his feet, ready to go after her, to chase her, to fall to his knees and beg her to let him come with her.
Anything but this hollow, cavernous feeling of her being gone.
As he passed the couch, he smelled that strong burning smell, an unearthly burning, and froze. He uncrumpled the note in both hands. I had to go back, she’d said. My time here is up.
“No,” he said, his voice thick around a sob. “No, no, no, no, no.”
He paced the length of the cabin, from the front door to the kitchen sink and the window over it, which revealed the sun falling low in the sky, nearly to the horizon.
She’d been called back to Hell. The other night, as they’d lain in bed together, fingers tangling and limbs intertwined, she’d told him about her punishment, about refusing to hurt an innocent human.
She’d told him that she didn’t know how long her exile would be.
She’d told him that Hell was miserable, and he’d laughed.
Of course it was miserable. It was Hell.
It had never occurred to him that she might have to go back.
The tears flowed now, his throat tight and swollen feeling.
His hands shook, and he felt as if he would be sick again.
She’d gone to the one place he couldn’t follow.
If she’d gone anywhere else, he would have done anything to find her.
He’d have climbed mountains. He’d have learned to drive a dogsled.
Hell, he’d have learned to drive a submarine just to fall to his knees and bury his face in the softness of her belly, to grab her hands and place them on the contours of his own skull and clutch them there, begging her to hold him, to keep him, to let him stay.
But he couldn’t follow her to Hell.
He dropped the floor and collapsed to his side, curled into a tight ball, feeling as if his heart was being surgically removed from his body. He felt it all, every single slice of the scalpel, as his body tore itself apart. Everything hurt. He wept, for the pain of it all, the loss of her.
JJ had told him that sometimes people didn’t know they’d met their fated mate until they were gone, when the agony of their absence became so painful that some people lost their minds.
Robbie shouted hoarsely in the silent cabin, his grief an animal thing within him.
Nadja was his mate, his fated mate, and he would never see her again.
Through his pain, he was dimly aware of the cabin door opening. He smelled JJ, his sense of smell becoming sharper by the second.
“Robbie, what the fuck?” JJ said, crouching down next to Robbie’s prone body. Robbie still clutched the note with a trembling hand, a snarl flying from his lips when JJ tried to take it.
“Down, pup,” JJ barked, and Robbie collapsed to the floor with a sob, releasing his grip on the paper. JJ gently smoothed the wrinkled paper and read.
“Goddamnit,” he muttered.
“She’s gone,” Robbie said, his voice a hoarse rasp.
“She got called back, didn’t she?”
Robbie couldn’t answer. He squeezed his eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain wracked him.
“Shit,” JJ said.
Nothing happened for a while. It may have been hours or seconds for all Robbie knew, but he found himself being pulled upright, dragged up to standing. He felt limp, ragged, as if everything holding him together threatened to dissolve.
“Damnit, Robbie, stand up,” JJ said, pulling him up the last bit. Robbie opened his eyes, swollen from crying, and looked at JJ.
“I’ll be damned,” JJ said, as something like awe settled over his face. “I thought it was bullshit. I’ve never seen—”
Robbie pitched forward, and JJ wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Robbie didn’t have any tears left in him, but he shuddered against JJ’s big, warm chest, sobbing silently, dryly.
JJ held him tightly.
“I hate that I have to do this. I hate that I have to make you do this. But we have to go, pup.”
“I can’t. I don’t—”
“You have to,” JJ said. “It’s your time.”
“I don’t want to,” Robbie screamed, so close to JJ’s face, but JJ didn’t even blink. “Just leave me here.”
“No,” JJ growled. “I won’t let you disappear. You’re pack. Goddamnit, do you hear me, Robbie? You’re pack. You’re my pack. And I’m not going to lose a pack member. Not like this.”
Robbie shook his head, stumbling away from JJ with his hand stretched out between them, as if he could fend off JJ in this condition. In any condition.
“You can hate me all you want, Robbie, but we’ve got to go.”
“I can’t,” Robbie whispered. “I can’t do it alone.”
The hard lines of JJ’s face softened. “You’re not alone. And you’re never gonna be alone again.”
Robbie wanted to protest, to tell him that it was possible to be alone even when surrounded by people, that he might be pack and might be a part of something bigger, but that without her, he’d always be alone. JJ should just leave him in the cabin. Maybe forever.