Chapter 7
Blowing out a breath, Pyxlevir tried to make sense of his emotions.
Earlier, news had spread like wildfire through the extended D’Vaire family that Killian had teleported Gramlithyn to Las Vegas.
Curiously, Gramlithyn had requested a specific Dérive station—one of the many spots throughout Council lands to allow druids in Killian’s company or other sorcerers to travel freely.
No one knew why Gramlithyn hadn’t chosen the one near his parents’ house or another popular family destination like the D’Vaire mansion in Arizona.
Killian could offer no further information.
Gramlithyn hadn’t mentioned anything about how long he was staying or why he’d made the trip to Vegas.
Pyxlevir didn’t know if Gramlithyn had called Killian directly or requested transport through Dérive and was patched through to its owner.
What Gramlithyn hadn’t done was clue his best friend in on anything or contact him following his arrival in town.
That hurt Pyxlevir’s feelings, but he also wasn’t surprised.
They hadn’t spoken in years, and Pyxlevir had long ago stopped trying to get Gramlithyn to answer his calls or reply to a text.
Not that Pyxlevir had persisted for long following that painful chat six years earlier. But in a few weak moments, Pyxlevir had followed his heart and gotten nowhere.
A knock on Pyxlevir’s bedroom door startled him, but he welcomed the intrusion.
The last thing he wanted to do was recall how his mate had left him or how much that still pissed him off.
Pyxlevir crossed the space to find two twin gargoyle-cougar hybrids on the other side of the door.
Without waiting for an invitation, Colburn tugged Pyxlevir into a crushing hug.
It was his usual greeting, and Pyxlevir loved the affectionate nature of his close friends.
Crispin embraced Pyxlevir next. Although Crispin was less exuberant in his enthusiasm, it didn’t mean he was reluctant.
If Colburn was a sparking wire, then Crispin was more of a strong, steady current.
Their personalities complemented each other well, and Pyxlevir wasn’t sure how he’d ever lived without the duo in his life.
“So, what do you think?” Colburn asked as he shut the door to give them privacy from the centaurs and elf that had already peppered Pyxlevir with concerned questions as they relayed the news to him less than thirty minutes ago.
Pyxlevir adored his family, but the last thing he wanted to discuss with them was Gramlithyn or the matebond he’d kept secret for six years.
“About what?” Pyxlevir asked coyly.
Crispin sat on the quilt Larissa D’Vairedraconis had made for him and hugged a throw pillow to his chest. “Pyx, you’re not a good liar. You know what Colby’s talking about. Gramlithyn is back.”
It was on the tip of Pyxlevir’s tongue to defend himself, as he’d proven at least to himself and Gramlithyn that he could conceal whatever he wished, but it was too dangerous a road to navigate. So, he shrugged and joined Crispin on the bed.
Sitting cross-legged, Pyxlevir sighed.
“Did he text you guys?” he asked.
Colburn shook his head. “Nope, no word. Dordan told us about what he learned from D’Vaire, cursed a lot, then shifted into his jaguar and threw himself in the pool.”
Dordan was the affectionate term Colburn and Crispin used for their biological father’s mate, Watchman-mate Jordan Hawthorne-Panthera. The jaguar shifter was passionately protective of those he loved and had been pissed off about Gramlithyn’s disappearance from the start. Pyxlevir adored him.
“Why didn’t he go to his parents’ house?” Crispin asked.
“Good question,” Pyxlevir replied. “But I don’t know anything about Gramlithyn anymore.”
“What if he doesn’t bother talking to any of us and vanishes again?” Colburn demanded, his yellow-green eyes narrowing as his lips pursed in disgust.
“Maybe we should be the ones texting him,” Crispin suggested.
“Why?” Pyxlevir asked. “Gramlithyn is the one who cut us all out of his life.”
“Well, we don’t know his reason, but there has to be one,” Crispin replied. “The important thing to remember is that we loved being friends with him. If we ever want that again, we have to be willing to forgive him or at least hear him out to understand why.”
Pyxlevir didn’t know what to say. Although he couldn’t assume that the matebond Fate had dropped on them like a bomb was the lone reason Gramlithyn had altered his future, it’d be naive not to acknowledge that it played a part.
But Pyxlevir wasn’t ready to share that news with anyone.
As weird as it was, Pyxlevir believed it would be unfair to Gramlithyn, somehow, to tattle about something affecting them both.
Despite everything, his feelings for Gramlithyn ran deep, and he couldn’t betray him on such a basic level by breaking the unspoken confidence they’d shared since Gramlithyn had first learned that they were mates.
That didn’t mean Pyxlevir wasn’t furious at him or forgave him for everything that followed his birthday.
“I don’t know, Cris, I don’t think any of us did anything to deserve to be dumped as friends,” Colburn reasoned.
“I was on the camping trip with him. He didn’t say shit to me about wandering off into the sunset.
I assumed he’d spend another couple of days and miss us so much that he’d return.
Or, I don’t know, care about the future he’d planned.
Instead, it was just the three of us who went to college, graduated, and now are working in our chosen jobs full time. ”
“Colby’s right. A lot has happened in the past six years,” Pyxlevir added, his heart aching at the loss of Gramlithyn. He’d added important milestones to his treasure trove of memories without his former friend and the other half of his soul at his side. “Holidays. Graduations. Promotions.”
“Are you saying you’ve grown too far apart from Gramlithyn now?” Crispin asked.
“I don’t know,” Pyxlevir responded, despairing at having Gramlithyn absent during such important years of growth. “But I’m not the same little elf I was at eighteen. And Gramlithyn can’t be either. We don’t know what he’s experienced or where he sees his future.”
Colburn crossed his arms, and his jaw flexed.
“Okay, but I’m not willing to turn my back on family.
We can choose not to be best friends anymore, but Semira and Laconifel are D’Vaires.
Pyx, Gramlithyn’s parents are some of the people closest to your dads.
No matter what, Gramlithyn will be part of our lives for eternity. We have to find a way to coexist.”
“So, are you saying you think I’m right and we should text him?” Crispin asked.
“Nope,” Colburn retorted. “I’m willing to hear him out, but he can damn well make the first move.”
“I’m with Colby,” Pyxlevir immediately added.
Crispin sighed heavily. “Fine, I won’t text him because we need a united front, but I want my objection filed and remembered.”
Pyxlevir managed a wry grin. “Okay. Noted. Now, let’s go listen to the centaurs bitch about Gramlithyn.”
Because of the secret he was keeping, Pyxlevir was no longer comfortable showing much emotion about Gramlithyn, despite how much the situation continued to tie him in knots.
But at least he could hear his own frustration and pain being echoed in the words of people who also loved Gramlithyn and understood nothing about his choices in the past six years.
∞∞∞
After a glaring—but mostly silent—Killian had been summoned by the Reverent Knights, he had dropped Gramlithyn and Dasan off at a Dérive station in Vegas.
The hotel Gramlithyn had picked wouldn’t allow them to check in for several hours, so they had explored the city.
Since Dasan was constantly hungry, they also ate breakfast and lunch.
Now they were finally in the privacy of a respectable room easily covered by the amount in Gramlithyn’s account, and Dasan was fluttering through the space in his bird form, leaving Gramlithyn alone with his thoughts.
He’d promised the Reverent Knights he’d contact his parents, and he would, but he had to build up some confidence first.
It was stupid. Gramlithyn had grown up in a loving home, and he knew he was missed. They’d probably be ecstatic to know Gramlithyn was a few minutes away from their home. Given how fast news traveled through the D’Vaire family, they were probably already aware he was lurking nearby.
So, why was he hesitating? The answer was simple.
Fear. They’d raised him to respect his tribe, his family, and Fate.
But the moment Gramlithyn had encountered the first hurdle thrown into his path, he’d run from home, cut off his hair, and thrown his elven attire in the trash.
He’d pierced his ears and even had a few tattoos. All in the name of rebellion.
Because the one thing no one had prepared Gramlithyn for was being rejected by the lone elf on the planet holding his heart.
Sick of his inadequacies and his foolishness, Gramlithyn reminded himself he was no longer a silly teenager.
He was a grown man and could handle anything.
Or so he hoped. Digging out his cellphone to avoid allowing his brain to dredge up another excuse not to talk to the two people who’d loved him unconditionally since the day he was born, Gramlithyn’s rush of bravery vanished.
Instead of calling, he took the coward’s route and texted them an invitation to his hotel room.
Gramlithyn wasn’t ready to return to his childhood home.
Had his parents left his bedroom alone? His room was the space where he had shared countless hours at Pyxlevir’s side as they played with toys, gossiped, or did homework.
It took only seconds before Gramlithyn’s maudlin thoughts were interrupted by a response from his mother.
“Dasan,” Gramlithyn said. “My parents are coming over. You might want to shift and put on some pants.”