Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Saint pushed messy black strands away from his face, those hypnotic silver orbs burning into me. “You’re in my bed.”
“Why the hell am I in your bed, then?” I yanked the covers up to my chin. “Where’s Fane?”
My breaths came in erratic pants as I searched the space with tan walls and rustic built-in bookshelves. A guitar leaned in one corner, and a stack of wood sat in front of the crackling fireplace.
I’d seen the very place before in the short vision I’d had of Saint’s fear of never finding his fated mate.
Ha! He probably wished he never had now.
The alpha slowly sat up and showed his palms. “Just calm down, Tate.”
A ruby haze speckled the edges of my vision. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I jerked back as he tried to reach for me, and my body teetered toward the floor.
Saint snatched my arm and hauled me back to safety before I fell on my ass. “Fane asked me to bring you here.”
“Did he tell you to put me in your damn bed?” I highly doubted that.
“Yes.”
My head snapped back, and I might have tumbled off the bed again if Saint wasn’t still gripping my arm. “Why would he do that?”
“I’ve been trying to heal you and smother your addiction to the Infernal Sol.”
I rapidly blinked as his words sank in. “What do you mean?”
He arched one eyebrow. “Don’t you remember our conversation about my parents in Silver Ridge’s archives? When The Collective Hunt poisoned my mom, my dad was able to eventually heal her because they’re fated mates.”
“But I’m claimed to someone else.”
Saint shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Our mystical connection still exists.”
Numbness crawled through my limbs, and my shoulders slumped as the realization hit me. Saint had been healing me since I showed up in Blackwater Falls after falling off that cliff. That was why the effects of the Infernal Sol had waned while I was here and returned when I left.
Fane had known it.
And that wasn’t all. This was why Fane left me here when he went to Illyria and why he didn’t have a problem with Saint hanging around Mohan Wilds recently.
What the ever-loving hell!
I raked my fingers through my long, tangled strands of berry-red hair. Why hadn’t Fane told me?
Probably because I was stubborn and would have refused any contact with Saint.
“I had another vision,” I muttered, trying not to let my anger cloud my thoughts. I needed to get the details out. “The Collective was chanting in a demon language.”
“I know.” Saint dragged his hand down his face. “Fane was pulled into your vision this time. He saw everything.”
My chest ached from the feel of having my heart cut out but also from Fane’s absence. Why wasn’t he here when I needed him?
“Where is he?” I hated the shake to my voice.
“He’s on the way.” Saint jerked his chin toward the nightstand on my side. “He sent you a text.”
Oh, a text. Wow. How thoughtful of him.
I snatched my phone and opened the text.
I’m on the way. You have every right to be pissed, and when you see me, feel free to punch me a few times. I wouldn’t have asked Saint to take you home if I didn’t believe he could help. The thought of him touching you sends me into a murderous rage. But I’d rather be angry if it means you feel better.
I’m bringing something that might give us some answers about The Collective. In the meantime, let Saint heal you as much as possible. But remind him that you’re mine. If he tries anything, he’s a dead man.
“Are you okay?” Saint asked, pulling my attention from my phone. “I know you’re upset that he?—”
“Try anything, and he’ll kill you.”
Saint rolled his eyes. “I’m aware. Fane has reminded me a dozen times since he left.” He swallowed hard, and his expression softened. “Tate, I don’t want to worry you, but something is very wrong with you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.
“I’m serious.” He rested his hand over his chest. “I can feel it inside of you, like poison.”
I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on one. “I haven’t been the same since the Infernal Sol was removed.” The sun tattoo on my abdomen throbbed, and the absence of that menacing power made me want to break down in tears.
“You want it back, don’t you?”
My head jerked in his direction. “Of course not.” But my denial was too quick. He wasn’t buying my bullshit.
“It won’t make you better,” he said. “It might take away these withdrawal symptoms, but it will only continue to poison you, like a drug addiction.”
“That doesn’t make this any easier.” He didn’t even know about the voice inside my head or my vision of the amulet. It called to me. It wanted me back too.
I was such a better vessel than Barric. Was the Infernal Sol really pleased with my biological father? Could Barric even feast on fears like I could? I bet he couldn’t suck down souls.
My brain had to stop traveling to the darkest places. It didn’t matter how much of a good host I was for the amulet. If I allowed it inside me again, I’d eventually lose myself. I had to learn to live without it.
“Can I see the tattoo?” Saint asked, yanking me from my spiraling thoughts.
When I looked down at the t-shirt, my brows knit. “Who the hell changed me?”
“My sister.” He shrugged. “It was either that or Hawk, and I didn’t think he’d survive Fane’s wrath if he undressed you.”
“Where is Hawk?”
“He left a little while ago. The raven captain wanted to speak to him about the mess in Wrath & Ruin.” He jerked his chin toward my torso. “So, the tattoo?”
I pulled the covers down to my waist, lifted the t-shirt—which had to be his because his masculine pine scent covered it—and unveiled the sun-shaped tattoo. Saint reached forward and rested his fingers on the ebony ink.
A strange tingle blossomed as he traced the lines. “There’s still power in this thing.”
“From the Infernal Sol?”
“Maybe it left a piece of it behind or something.” His mouth thinned into a tight line. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Why can’t I access that power? I feel nothing except the craving to have the stupid thing back.” I winced. “And the dizziness and shakes, of course.”
Saint pressed his whole palm on it. “A demon alchemist should look into this. Has Logan not examined you?”
“We didn’t think there was any point to it. The amulet was gone—or at least, we thought so.”
Was that why the urge for it was so strong? A piece of it was still inside me, and the stone wanted to be whole again?
He pulled his hand away and then leaned on the headboard. “But you do feel better when you’re with me?”
My lips pressed together as I stalled, hating to admit it. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Let me do what I can for you while you’re here.” He opened his arms and motioned for me to lie against him.
Unease twisted through my gut. Fane had me come here for this very reason, but I didn’t want to do anything that might stir unwanted feelings for Saint. He was hot, and we already had a bond. Spending time with him might not strengthen it, but it could bring us closer.
“Should we be doing this?” I nervously fiddled with the ends of my hair. “It feels like we’re asking for trouble.”
Saint gave a wry smile. “We’ll still reject the bond when this is all over, Tate. You and Fane are already mated, and your connection would never allow anything to destroy it. I can feel that when I’m in a room with you two.” He patted his tattooed chest. “Come here and let me hold you.”
Finally, I scooted closer and curled against him. Part of me screamed at how wrong this was, while the other wanted to give in and enjoy it.
How could I enjoy it? This wasn’t Fane. This wasn’t my mate.
My brain pretended it was Fane, and my eyelids drifted closed.
But I couldn’t wish for him too much. His incorporeal form could accidentally be drawn here, and I didn’t want him to see me lying with another man.
The tattoo on my neck crackled as if it knew the wrong person was holding me.
Saint wrapped his arms around me and massaged circles on my back. “Just relax, Tate. I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”
My muscles eventually loosened, and I melted into him, letting his healing power work its magic. If we did this for long enough, those side effects might vanish for good.
Fat chance. I’d never be that lucky. I might be stuck with them forever.
Not until you take me back, Tate. Come find me. I promise it’ll be worth it.
I let Saint’s heartbeat distract me from the Infernal Sol’s taunting voice.
Layla, Saint’s fifteen-year-old sister, glared at me across the kitchen island as I sipped a mug of hot chocolate Enid made. I’d also inhaled a massive steak, a baked potato, and marinated broccoli that didn’t have that weird broccoli taste. It was the most food I’d eaten in weeks.
I was feeling almost normal. Of course, my anxiety was beginning to rear its ugly head.
Fane better get here soon.
“You’re nothing special.” Her mouth curved into a snarl as she folded her arms. “I don’t see what all the fuss is.”
I snorted on a laugh. “I’m not special. I just pissed fate off.”
The young shifter was taller than me and pointed that out the moment we crossed paths. Her long hair was as black as Saint’s, and her eyes were the same mystical silver, like moonlight on a clear night.
“My brother deserves someone way better than you.”
“Layla!” Saint entered the kitchen after his shower, damp hair combed away from his handsome face. “Don’t be rude.”
She shrugged. “I’m only being honest.”
He came to her side of the island and leaned toward her. “You’re being a brat. Tate hasn’t done anything wrong. Things like this happen, and it’s no one’s fault.”
Her bottom lip stuck out. “She should reject that other guy and pick you. You’re way better than him.”
“I’m really sorry I was picked for your brother, Layla,” I said, blowing on the hot chocolate. “Fane and I have gone through a lot, and even if we hadn’t already claimed each other, we wouldn’t be able to simply walk away.”
She scoffed. “But he has a fated mate, too, right? Why can’t he be with her and you be with Saint? It’s a win-win.”
Saint groaned and grabbed a mug from a cabinet. “It’s not a win-win.”
“Marissa is a hateful piece of work who hurt him plenty and tried to kill me.” I twisted the long red strands away from my face, choking back a growl. “And she has her own mate, even though he left her because she’s so horrible.”
Layla drummed her fingers on the counter and scrunched her nose. “Well, maybe you could just?—”
“Layla, enough.” Saint poured himself a cup of coffee before turning to his sister. “Tate and I will never be mates, but I’ll find someone else.”
Her nostrils flared as she seethed at me. “Why are you here, then? You’re breaking my brother’s heart. If you won’t be with him, leave him alone.”
Guilt churned in my gut, and my gaze lowered to the dark countertop. I never wanted to hurt Saint, but being around me couldn’t be easy. To make matters worse, he was putting himself through this pain to heal me.
“Apologize, Layla.” A faint wave of alpha power pulsed out of Saint. “I’m your brother, but I’m also your alpha, and I don’t condone disrespecting a guest of our pack.”
She pouted and stared at her feet. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s fine. This whole situation sucks.”
I abandoned my hot chocolate and the awkward conversation and headed for the door to wait on Fane. Cold air rushed over my cheeks and blew my hair back as I stepped onto the porch. The ice and snow had melted, but temperatures were still frigid compared to what they should be.
After a few minutes, warm tingles crackled over my neck tattoo, and a black SUV pulled in front of Saint’s house. Fane stepped out, marched toward me, and tugged me against him.
My body sagged in his arms, and I inhaled his scent into my lungs, reveling in the familiar, heady fragrance.
“Being away from you fucking sucks.” Even Fane’s voice in my head sounded exhausted.
When he drew back, his face was paler than usual, and dark circles lurked beneath his eyes. I’d experienced the separation anxiety, but Saint’s presence had dulled it.
Fane had it much worse.
A sharp intake of air caught our attention, and we turned to find Layla on the porch, her mouth open as she ogled Fane. Saint appeared beside her and used his index finger to lift her jaw.
Fane gave one of his sexy half smiles. “You must be Layla.”
Crimson flooded her cheeks, and she dissolved into giggles before snapping out of the daze the demon shifter had put her in. “Yeah, that’s right.” She propped her hands on her hips. “And I’m not a fan of yours.”
“Not many are.”
Once he turned toward the car and ambled to the back, she fanned herself. “I guess I understand your dilemma.” She swallowed hard as she studied him, his jeans fitting perfectly around the curve of his ass and his gray Henley tight on his muscled torso.
Saint shook his head. “Go inside, Layla. You’re drooling all over the porch.”
She punched her brother before pivoting and marching inside, taking another peek at Fane before slamming the door.
“She’s lovely,” Fane said through our mental link.
“I think she hates me a little less now that she’s seen you.”
Saint descended the stairs. “What’s this big lead you have?”
Fane jerked his head for us to come to the back of the SUV, and he lifted the door, a savage grin trying to break free.
My mouth dropped when an unconscious and bound female shifter came into view, her raven hair obscuring part of her face.
But I knew exactly who she was.
“How did you find Reese?”