Chapter Thirty Grayson
Grayson
Grayson didn’t know himself at all.
Oh, until a week ago, he’d just been Grayson Pearce: beloved mate, architect, artist, even a fair dancer, if Finn’s response to his Truth-or-Dare lap dance had been any indication. More importantly, however, was who he was on the inside, and that person was happy . Not just go-along-with-life content, but genuinely happy. He was loved and lived a satisfying life; what more could anyone ever ask for?
The only things he’d allowed himself to hold regrets about were about their lost mate and, maybe, just sometimes, the effort he had to put in to hold some of the darker parts of himself in check. It’s not like he’s a murderer or plans hate crimes in his spare time, not at all, nothing so terrible as that. He can offer his browser history as evidence for that—or at least he could have until last Saturday night.
It makes him think about Dickens’ quote, “ It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
Because it was; they’d found Nix, or maybe he’d found them, and Grayson discovered that he had a very precarious hold on the parts of himself that…burned. He burned with curiosity, with love, with passion, and with the desire to consume everything that is Nix Rena. Never had he felt like that about another person. Period. Just thinking about what it will feel like when, instead of sleeping beauty, he faces a very awake, very alive new form of temptation scares him.
It is an obsession, an overwhelming desire to slot him into that place in Grayson’s heart like Nix might be the other half of himself. Imagine how terrifying it is to realize when he had already thought he was whole.
People who don’t have a fated mate (let alone seven) can’t possibly understand the feeling, but it’s like all your parts finally falling into place when you bond; click-click-click , like interlocking pieces whose whole is infinitely stronger than the individual parts. Grayson had always known one piece was missing; Jay had felt it, and maybe Gideon had mentioned it one time that he felt a bit lopsided.
He’d had to accept that Nix was gone—like a machine missing an essential part that prevents it from functioning perfectly, but still good enough to do almost everything it was designed to do. But when his wolf scented Nix that first night, he realized it hadn’t been a small piece missing, but a huge one; it felt like half of his soul slotting into place. And his wolf had been loud ever since.
After days of searching and searching in all the wrong places, he’d discovered completely by accident an academic paper about the reports of Were soulmates. Luca and Gideon joked (while not really joking) that they were soulmates, and it was easy to see their connection beyond what they all shared as fated mates, which Grayson respected and envied. But he hadn’t understood it. Not really.
The study was largely anecdotal, so it had an understandably small sample size and zero empirical evidence. However, it cited historical texts and even several astrologers. They all claimed the answer was written in the stars. The Were faith is heavily tied to the planets and the moon in particular, so Grayson was at least familiar with the premise, if not the practice.
He’d sent some desperate inquiries to every single one of the astrologers listed, and he had already made plans to visit the University library to see if he could get access to the texts the study had cited. A last-ditch attempt at getting a handle on this obsession with a person he’s never even spoken to.
When Jay and Gideon had beelined for the hospital from Antonio’s office, he’d deliberately attached himself to Leo because he knew Rowan would not let Grayson get away with his mysterious silence. Then he’d begged Leo to take him home, relying on Leo’s usual non-confrontational approach.
His beta was always full of understanding, more likely to cajole than insist, and it’s just what Grayson needed when he wasn’t ready to answer questions. He felt a glimmer of shame that he took advantage of his mate’s respectful nature when he locked himself in the rut room with its blanket Do Not Disturb rule in place.
Even under the sensory restrictions of the suppressants, he hears the security system activate “home” mode, and he knows Leo has gone. He desperately wants to call him back and change his mind, to see Nix as soon as possible. That place in his heart—no, his soul, reminding Grayson they were incomplete.
And yet, he doesn’t.
He responds to Rowan’s texts, the persistent weight of his omissions making his conscience twinge. With a sigh, he carefully hangs up his bespoke suit and changes into swim trunks. Lowering the pool’s temperature to an icy chill, he dives in, swimming lap after lap until he loses count somewhere past fifty. When his limbs finally give way to exhaustion, he dries off, sheds his drenched swimsuit, and pads naked to the kitchen to retrieve a snack. After taking his daily dose of suppressants, he steps into the shower, reflecting on the idea of “letting off steam,” as his endocrinologist had advised.
But his wolf is having none of it; he wants Nix, and while Grayson might let thoughts of his beautiful mate—awake, smiling—flicker through his imagination, he will be damned if he uses images of him to get off. Not when they haven’t even held a conversation when he hasn’t kissed his cheek or fed him from his hand. Fuck that .
By the time his shower ends, he’s sweating despite the icy water. Neither the cold shower nor the intense swim has done anything to quell the simmering desire to bond with his new mate. Knowing that Nix is awake seems to have intensified his body’s relentless drive to reunite their souls. It feels as if the drugs are suppressing everything except his obsession.
Dressing in his painting clothes, Grayson retreats to his bedroom studio and uncovers the thirty-by-thirty-inch oil canvas, its surface still marked with the faint outline of eyes, a nose, and full lips. He’d kept it here in the house, unable—or unwilling—to leave it unattended in the Art House behind the main house since he began the piece a month ago. But it had mostly remained untouched since then, the details stubbornly eluding his artist’s mind.
But now, he knows exactly whose eyes those are and what those lips look like in real life. Once he admitted to himself that they belonged to his omega, the rest of the painting came together in yellows and pinks, in black and white, and he lost time to his art and to his muse.
Sometime later, he hears Rowan’s footsteps stop outside his door, but he doesn’t knock, and Grayson is so grateful when they head back down the hall toward his room. Almost immediately, the door to Luca’s room slams, followed by the low rumble of the soulmates blowing off steam. It’s distracting in the best/worst way to hear Luca cry and beg, and since he’s almost done anyway, Grayson sets his brushes to soak before he finally thinks to check his phone.
2:08 PM - from Finn
You missed the 2-hour check in
You OK?
3:36 PM - from Leo
We’re coming home. You missed the check in
3:41 PM - from Ro
You better not be dead or Jay is going to freak out
On our way now with Nix
Fuck, the last text was ten minutes ago. Nix would be in his house—in his safe space—any minute, and Grayson wasn’t ready. He could feel the vortex of panic and excitement rising, and it had his wolf pacing in anticipation, even while Grayson only wanted to hide. There’s nowhere to hide. The part of Grayson that feels cornered wants to flee and run into Nashville this evening to delay what he’s sure is going to be a bloodbath, with him taking Nix away from his beloved Jay by force.
He drops to the floor, pulling his knees up, the inevitability of impending doom settling heavily on his mind while his heart nearly beats out of his chest. It’s panic, pure and never simple.
There’s the quietest of knocks, and he hesitates, thinking about whether he should let anyone in. Thanks to the suppressants, his senses are so off he can’t even tell who it is, but if he had to guess, the gentle tap would belong to Finn.
“Come in.”
Finn enters, dropping into a crouch beside him. Even if he can’t scent Finn the same, it isn’t true for his mate. He must smell of fear and sadness. “Oh, Gray.” There’s a hand in his hair and a kiss on the top of his head. “Can I sit?”
Finn is one of the few people who would ask and actually wait for permission. “Mmmm.”
“Nix is downstairs. Jay is telling him about us. I think he’s taking it well so far. Do you want to come lurk with us on the balcony? I need an extra set of hands to prevent Leo from throwing himself into the fray.”
Grayson shakes his head. “I can’t. What if I fuck it up? What if I scare him worse, or I try to take him from Jay?” It could all go so terribly, terribly wrong.
He hadn’t thought he’d said the last part out loud, but Finn replies, “What if it doesn’t? I know you’ve been dealing with some stuff on your own, and I won’t pressure you to share it now. But you can talk to me anytime. I won’t say it won’t be hard, but I want you to think about what life would be like without him in it. Isn’t the chance at a beautiful life worth the risk?”
The fear surges, causing tears to flow down his cheeks. He lays the side of his face on his knees, as Finn gently wipes away them away. “I’m not going to push, but let us help you, love. Please give Nix the chance to love you. Trust in yourself. Just think about it, okay?” He kisses his cheek again and closes the door.
Images of a beautiful life swirl through his mind. He lets them go from the fantastical to the simplistic and back again. They’re vivid, like memories rather than creations of his desperate mind. He finally understands that there really is no choice at all.
Finn said that any life with Nix in it is worth the risk, and because they have this second chance, he needs to be brave. Slipping out of his room, he heads toward the balcony to join Finn and Leo, though he can hear that they’re now in the living room with Rowan and Jay—with Nix.
His new mate is unhappy, his deep voice strained and, above all, exhausted. Finn had said things were going well. What happened? Maybe it’s because he’s only been awake for half a day, and he’s dealing with finding out he’s no longer human. It’s so clear he’s at the end of his rope, and Grayson has had enough. He’s on the stairs when he hears:
“This is going to take some time to get used to, okay? I’m not saying I’m mad about the—what did you call it? The transition. But I don’t like not knowing about who or what I’m capable of like this. What if I hurt someone? I don’t know anything about what I am. Who you are.” There’s a tired sigh and then a faint, “Fuck, I’m tired.”
“Is there anything you want to ask right now? Then you can take a nap, we can swim and eat later, then we can answer some more questions?” Jay asks.
Grayson feels a brief surge of affection for his leader; he’s a caregiver above all else. He is shocked, stopping in his tracks when he realizes he has no desire to fight Jay for Nix’s hand. Has he been hiding for nothing? He’s so close, that in that moment Grayson’s wolf is more interested in getting their arms around their mate than anything else.
He’s standing just out of sight when Finn says, “Here, this is a popular Were history book. I’ve had it since I was in middle school. Never knew why I hung on to it. Guess now I know. You don’t have to read it, of course; we’ll answer any questions you have to the best of our abilities. But just in case?”
Nix is on the floor in an instant as his legs give out. All of his mates are on their feet, though Rowan gets there first to scoop him up in a bridal hold, and still, Grayson’s wolf is only thinking about how he’s missed Nix for far too long. Maybe it’s the suppressants, but there’s not one thought about fighting.
“One more thing, and then I want a bed and quiet. Where is Grayson?”
Stepping into the room, Grayson only has eyes for his omega.
“Here—I’m right here.”
Nix wiggles until Rowan puts him on his feet and he hands a book to Finn. Jay puts out a hand to steady him, ready to catch Nix if he falls, or for anything at all if Grayson has to guess.
He meets Nix halfway, and as soon as Grayson is close enough to touch, Nix does. Grayson squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away, ashamed that he’s been hiding in his room like a child afraid of the boogeyman. But he shouldn’t have worried. There’s a cool hand on his face, one over his heart, and a deep voice whispering, “Hello.”
He holds that soft hand against his face, turning it to press a butterfly-soft kiss into the palm. Sliding his other arm around his mate’s delicate waist, he pulls him as close as possible. When their eyes meet, he finds a small, matching smile on Nix’s face, quiet and tender.
His heart is racing, pounding so hard he can feel it under his omega’s hand. With every beat, it whispers a single, relentless Nix.
“Angel. I’ve missed you.” It’s the truth: this week, and also for what feels like forever.
It’s not fireworks at all; it’s a slow dawn, warm and golden, sliding into every dark place in his soul, lighting him up from inside. It’s that last piece of himself locking into place, and where he had thought it would all be too much, it turns out it’s the exact, perfect amount.
He
is
finally
complete.