Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-seven
KARL
The silence had grown slowly oppressive as he waited for Leon to return. Time passed, marked only by his heartbeat, and yet Leon hadn’t come back. He was still out there in the dark, nursing a hurt Karl had inflicted with hasty, angry words.
He hadn’t meant to cut that deep—he’d just needed to push Leon away. But Leon hadn’t fought back, and that was what kept twisting inside Karl, the way he’d simply stood there, taking Karl’s rejection as if it was what he’d expected. As if it was what he deserved.
Karl needed to put it right, but Leon still hadn’t come back.
“Fine,” Karl muttered eventually. “Subtlety’s overrated.”
Careful of his ribs, he reached for the enamel mug sitting on the crate beside the bed. He threw it at the door, and was bleakly amused to see he was too weak for his throw to reach even that far. Still, it clattered to the floor with a sharp, metallic sound.
He waited, heart thudding faster than it had any right to, and within seconds, the door was pushed open. Leon stood framed in the doorway.
“Everything okay?” he asked, eyes sharp and searching for trouble.
Karl swallowed hard. He knew they had to talk, but he had no idea what to say. “You planning to lurk there all night, or are you coming in?”
Leon closed the door behind himself and crossed the room slowly, as if expecting this to be a trap. His expression was tight and guarded, the way Karl hadn’t seen in days.
It felt wrong. This wasn’t Leon. At least, not the Leon he’d come to know, the person Leon had trusted him with. His gut hurt with guilt and sorrow.
“Leon—” he said, then paused, not knowing what to say.
Leon still wasn’t looking at him.
The words came now, rough but steady. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, not like that.”
Leon’s eyes flicked to his, betraying his surprise.
“I thought you were fucking with me, that it was like last time and it wasn’t true,” Karl said, holding his gaze. “But you weren’t.”
Leon said nothing.
Karl wet his lips. “I just wanted you to know, that I know now. God only knows how it’s possible, but we’re mates.”
It was strange, saying the words out loud. They seemed almost to hold power, as if some age-old truth had simply been waiting to be recognized all these years.
He paused an instant, before adding, “And I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
Leon’s eyes were on his, something terribly fragile in them. Karl’s breath caught, because he had the inescapable feeling that if he got this wrong, said just a word out of place, it would shatter Leon.
LEON
He swallowed, and it hurt. He wasn’t sure if it was the truth he could see in Karl’s face or the fact he’d apologized that made his throat ache more. Because no one apologized to Leon. Not over things that mattered. But Karl had, and now Leon wanted to cry with how it felt.
But he had something bigger to figure out first—Karl knew they were mates, but what did that mean for them, if anything at all?
He had no idea what Karl wanted, but sitting out in the freezing cold, miserably hunched in a tree, it had been clear beyond doubt what he wanted.
He wanted Karl, for the rest of his life.
He just didn’t think it would happen. But now…
He stood beside the bed, careful to keep himself contained, not to touch even by accident as his heart pounded.
How to ask? How to lay himself open that far?
If Karl said no, this would be the final rejection.
This, of all of them, would be the one to kill him. He knew that to the depths of his soul.
“You want this?” Karl’s voice was rough, an edge to it Leon didn’t understand. Then he breathed out sharply, sounding annoyed. “Me, I mean. You want me?”
Leon didn’t intend to, but he folded down onto his knees next to the bed, looking into Karl’s eyes. Those brown eyes that saw everything were shielded, as if Karl were braced for Leon to say no, maybe even to laugh at him.
He reached out a hand, wondering why it was so unsteady, and traced a line along Karl’s forearm, drinking in the sensation of warm skin, the way Karl shivered slightly beneath his touch.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I do.”
Such small words for something that changed everything. Karl closed his eyes for a moment, but it didn’t feel like he was blocking Leon out—it was more like he was just as overwhelmed in that moment as Leon felt. Because for the first time in too many years, everything felt right.
He stayed perfectly still, heart thudding, afraid to break whatever this was, as Karl opened his eyes again, instantly seeking him out. And then Karl lifted his hand and reached up to tuck a strand of Leon’s hair behind his ear.
Leon’s breath caught, sharp and sudden. The gesture was probably meant to be—well, tender wasn’t a word he ever thought he’d use in connection with Karl, but maybe he’d been wrong. The thing was, Karl couldn’t possibly know how intimate that touch was for a cat.
Intimate, and something more. Leon’s heart thudded, and heat rose up his throat, spreading across his cheeks. It wasn’t overwhelming, not yet, but it was present, that awareness of Karl, of closeness, of skin and scent and the need rising inside him.
He steadied his breathing, telling himself they could explore the heat between them later, and had to trust they’d have a later. But Karl’s fingers were tracing the shell of his ear, and if he kept doing that…
“That’s really not a good idea right now,” he said, aiming for smooth and in control. What came out was low and rough, all breath and want.
Karl blinked. “What, the—” He paused. “Oh.” And, to Leon’s relief and disappointment, moved his hand to cover Leon’s.
Leon gave a small, helpless laugh, and then—without fully thinking it through—he moved, sliding onto the bed beside Karl.
Under a happiness so intense that every nerve ending buzzed, a tendril of guilt writhed.
He’d hurt Karl, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Karl had swallowed it down, like he’d swallowed everything else, and Leon had been blind to it.
But Karl had forgiven him. Beating himself up over it would only get in the way of this.
And this—Karl—was so much more than Leon had ever hoped for.
He’d known there was probably a mate out there for him, but he’d never known how he was supposed to trust another cat, not after everything that had gone before.
But it seemed fate—or Bastet, or whoever was responsible for all this—had gotten it all worked out.
He didn’t know how it would work, what his pride would say, what they’d think of Karl, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was what he thought of Karl. His pride had long since lost the right to have any say over his life. They’d had more than enough already.
They were quiet for a long moment. Then Karl turned his head, just a little, just enough to see him. His voice was low. “Can I kiss you?”
Leon closed the small distance between them and their lips met.
It was nothing like the last time. No heat, no edge of frustration or challenge. Just soft, clinging, and quiet—the first hello of a lifetime of them.
When they broke apart, Leon rested his forehead against Karl’s shoulder, and breathed.