Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
TOBIN
Leaving felt wrong. Wrong and painful.
Tobin had driven his boat out of Tenebrae Cove more times than he could ever count, but it had never felt so fucking wrong before.
Most of the time, he enjoyed a day away, time by himself. He could feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his skin and relish the peace and quiet.
Sure, Aurin was with him, but Aurin was the quiet type, too, happy to sit and watch the horizon in silence, and Tobin was grateful for that today.
He loved his consortium—his brothers, his family—but sometimes he needed space to clear his head.
Like now.
He needed to put some distance between himself and Fraser. Distance was supposed to be the key to stopping a mating bond, but Tobin hadn’t accounted for the physical pain.
Actual physical pain.
It felt as if his insides had been splintered apart and torched. He’d hoped with every nautical mile he put between them that the pain would burn itself out, but no. Tobin had to wonder if there was a distance on earth far enough...
He doubted it.
He’d been so caught up in his own head, in his own misery, he hadn’t realised his navigation dials had begun to spin until his engine spluttered and he glanced at the dash.
What the hell...
He swung the wheel hard portside, steering the boat south, back toward land and away from the Trench.
The engine coughed and cut out, though with enough momentum to keep moving south.
The dials slowed, and his navigation system blinked, and then the LED screen flickered back to life and the engine coughed again, so he slowly pressed the throttle down and got the hell out of there.
This is what Ciaran had talked about. What the fishing trawler had encountered.
“What is it?” Aurin asked. “Electrics out?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he said. “Close call.” A cold shiver ran down Tobin’s back, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d had a close encounter with something sinister. His hearts were pounding, palms sweaty, his chest tight.
At least it was a distraction from his other problems, he allowed. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d just equated the possibility of evil with his pending bond with Fraser.
His head was such a fucking mess.
And he couldn’t seem to get the look of disappointment on Ciaran’s face out of his mind.
He was letting everyone down. He was letting his leader down, and that fucking stung too. He hated that he’d been put into this position. He hadn’t asked for this. He didn’t want it.
He didn’t want to be bonded. Not to anyone, but least of all to Fraser.
Funny, so freaking beautiful, always smiling Fraser...
He deserved better.
What Tobin had told Ciaran and Kellan was only a half-truth. He didn’t want a manufactured bond, but it was more than that.
Fray deserved someone who loved him organically. He deserved only the best. Not some fabricated emotional shackles that removed his free will.
Fuck.
Tobin hated being so cynical, but damn if he wasn’t pissed off about the whole thing. He was so... angry.
He didn’t really know why, or what had been the catalyst. It wasn’t Sawyer turning up, not specifically. It wasn’t the return of Lusca or whatever the fuck it meant. It was just... everything. Every fucking thing annoyed him lately, and he couldn’t seem to reel it in.
He didn’t want to reel it in. He wanted to vent, and rage, and let it all out. He wanted to scream and punch the shit out of something.
But for what, or why? He couldn’t begin to explain.
He’d thought about leaving. Leaving Tenebrae, leaving his consortium. Maybe this uneasiness, the feeling of being adrift, was telling him to go. Maybe the universe was telling him he’d find happiness somewhere else if he’d only just dare to look.
But every passing mile further away he got, the more he longed to go back.
The journey to Southport was never an easy one.
The constant and unforgiving swells of the Southern Ocean never made for easy sailing, and he’d hoped his need to concentrate and focus would detract from the ache in his chest—from his need to go back, his need to see Fray.
No such luck, apparently.
Not only did he have to fight with swells, currents, and blasting winds, he also had to fight every instinct he had that was telling him to turn around.
Every nautical mile was harder than the one before.
It felt as if there was an elastic cord in his chest stretching tighter and tighter until he was sure it would snap.
And if he’d wondered if there was any distance he could go to break it, he was pretty sure he knew the answer. There was no distance, nowhere far enough away for him to go to sever the pull back to Tenebrae, back to Fray.
He knew the only thing that would break, if anything would eventually snap, was Tobin. His heart, his mind, all of him.
He would break if he left.
So what kind of choice was that? What kind of free will was that? The stupid bond wasn’t free will at all, no matter what Ciaran or Sawyer said. No matter what Kellan had read in his books.
And that just pissed him off some more.
Where was his say in any of this? Where was Fray’s choice?
Sweet mercy, Fray.
Tobin could see his smile in his mind, hear his laughter, and the ache in his chest, the pull of his hearts, cinched tighter still.
Soon. I’ll be going back soon....
Driving the boat into Southport was like closing a door to shut out a storm.
It was an inlet protected from the Southern Ocean, so the water was shallower, calmer.
There were recreational boats, trawlers, and people.
It was a tiny town, though, much smaller than the other town he drove to.
Strahan was where he did mail drops and collections and grocery orders.
Southport was closer to Hobart, and he usually only came for specific reasons.
Today’s specific reasons were three passengers from Norway who, by Southport standards, were so out of place, they may as well have been in freeform.
Tall and broad, blond hair and blue eyes, strikingly handsome. In human form, they could be models, Tobin thought.
They reminded him of Fray.
So much.
They were Fray’s family, after all, but the resemblance made Tobin’s stomach twist with longing to go home...
“Hello. Name’s Tobin,” Tobin said. He didn’t even need to tie the boat off, since they simply stepped aboard without much fuss at all. “And this is Aurin.”
“Hello,” Aurin said sweetly. “How was your trip?”
“Long,” the first guy said. He put his hand to his chest, “Marten,” he said. Then he gestured to the other two. “Arvid and Lukas.”
The three of them looked stifled, Tobin realised.
Uptight probably wasn’t the right word, but it wasn’t far wrong.
And Tobin could guess why. “We’re gonna head straight back now, but if you want me to stop halfway so you can take a dip, just let me know.
Can’t imagine not being in freeform for that long. What’s it been, two or three days?”
Tobin felt off kilter just thinking about going that long without being submersed or under the immense pressure of water at depth.
Marten gave a nod. “Yes. Closer to three. But I think we’ll be fine until we get to Tenebrae Cove.”
Tobin gave them a smile he didn’t exactly feel. “Then let’s get you there.” And that twist in his gut became a knot of both anticipation and dread. Going home, back to the place he felt peace, but also back to Fray.
He knew he’d have to deal with it. He would have to talk to Fray, and the thought alone sent an unwelcome ripple of excitement through him so strong, so fervent, his skin shimmered with the thrill of it.
“Everything okay?” Marten asked.
Of course he saw.
“Oh, sure. Just...” Tobin shrugged, but then he tried for a grin. “Just excited. We haven’t had visitors of our kind in a while. I’m looking forward to it. Sharing stories, that kind of thing. I think Kellan’s looking forward to it the most. He loves the history of us.”
“Ah, your doctor,” Marten said. “I have spoken to him many times. I look forward to meeting him also.”
“And Fraser?” Arvid asked. “How is he?”
Hearing his name sent a jolt through Tobin, sparks of fire and ice, of pain and pleasure. It was heaven and hell, and Tobin’s grip on the wheel tightened as he tried to quell his urge to shift.
“Are you okay?” Marten asked, clearly alarmed now. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
He glanced at the three men, all of them watching him with wide, cautious eyes. “It’s uh... personal,” he said. “There’s been no developments with Lusca, if that’s what you mean. I’m just...”
A fucking mess.
In trouble.
Dying inside.
He shook his head and focused on driving.
“I need to concentrate. It gets pretty rough out here. The Southern Ocean is, uh...” He shook his head, then his shoulders, trying to keep his human form.
Fucking hell. He’d never felt so out of control.
“Uh, Fraser is fine. I think.... He, uh... sure seemed just fine last I saw him.”
He wasn’t fine.
He was strung too tight, confused and concerned, and it was all Tobin’s fault.
“Might want to sit down and hold on,” Tobin said as they met some swells. “Gonna keep close to the shoreline. Just yell out if you need me to stop.”
Tobin figured that should be enough to get them to sit down, hold on, and hopefully put an end to the conversation. He didn’t mean to be a bad host, but fucking hell, he needed to not think about Fraser.
Sweet, sweet Fray.
Fucking hell.
He needed to not think about talking to him. Telling him about this bond, if he didn’t know already, was going to fucking kill Tobin—
Oh fuck...
If he didn’t know already.
Of course Fraser would know. How could he not know? Wouldn’t he feel the bond too? Had he felt it at all?
He certainly didn’t act like he did.
And what did Ciaran and Kellan say? That he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t feel any different?
Tobin never did find out what the fuck that was supposed to mean. It wasn’t their secret to tell, apparently.