Chapter 26 Tobias
TOBIAS
The following morning, I wake before Rowen does. The light hits his shoulder in a way that makes me itch for my camera. I want to capture the way the thin band of gold stretches across his back. He’s so damn beautiful.
My body aches in that lazy, satisfied way that comes after too little sleep and too much sex. We’d woken in the middle of the night for another round. Rowen hadn’t knotted that time, but the feeling was just as incredible. Just as right.
And just as dangerous. How can this last? I’m only going to end up hurting him when the madness catches up with me.
Rowen’s words drift back through the haze, soft as a whisper through film grain.
We’re fated, Toby.
That word—fated—fizzes through me like carbonated air. It’s so unreal, so beautiful, but also terrifying. Fate doesn’t promise forever; it just binds you tighter while you fall.
I curl into him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder to chase the warmth.
He stirs against me, his breath rough in my hair. “Mmm. Morning.”
“Hey.” My voice is rough from sleep and lack of sustenance. I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast.
A sharp thud-thud-thud rattles the door, making us both jump.
“Downstairs in five!” Grant shouts. “Pack meeting!”
Rowen groans, stretching out.
I can’t help but laugh. “So much for lazy mornings, huh?”
He mutters something I can’t hear before kissing my forehead.
Slowly and with great effort, we drag ourselves out of bed, fumbling for some clothes. Every muscle protests the workout he put me through, but I don’t mind. The ache is proof it wasn’t just a dream.
While I tug on my shirt, Rowen steps in close and pinches my chin, kissing me softly. “You okay?”
I’m not sure which part he means—physically, emotionally, cosmically—but the answer’s the same. Fate can ruin me later, but right now, I’m choosing him.
“Yeah. I am.”
His immediate smile tugs at my heart. He kisses me one more time before reaching for the door. “Come on.”
The kitchen smells of coffee and toast and too many bodies packed in one space. The entire pack gathers around the table, with Forest and Grant at opposite ends. Grant looks like he’s been awake for a few hours, despite having gotten home just as late as Rowen.
Then again, he still probably got more sleep than Rowen did.
Jericho and Evan are here. Evelyn, too, her graying brown hair twisted up in a lopsided bun. Aster is wide awake and bouncing in his highchair, gobbling down some buttered toast and bits of banana.
I slide into the seat beside Rowen, fingers brushing his thigh under the table. A few heads turn in our direction, knowing looks and mixed hidden smiles against their lips. My cheeks heat. Damn pheromones. I hide my face in my sleeve.
Grant wastes no time. “Last night’s trip into Prodigy didn’t go quite as planned,” he begins, “but Kaine and Willow did find one of Foxx’s vamps as promised.”
“Which one?” Taren asks.
“Trivanka. You remember her—the pixie one?”
A low murmur ripples around the table.
“They told us what they could, but in the end, we decided to scope the place so we could make a plan.” He pauses. “Two vamps attacked us when we surrounded the hotel.”
“Was it a set-up?” Neal asks.
“I don’t think so. We think they were lookouts for Foxx. Watching Trivanka. Protecting her. They were young, though. No vamp gifts yet, so they were easy kills.”
Forest rubs his arm, wincing. Even “easy” left marks.
“Trivanka came out when the fight started,” Grant continues.
“Thanks to… Kaine”—he spits the name, like giving the other vampire any credit physically pains him—“we captured her and questioned her.” Grant leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“The woman claimed she was trying to leave Foxx. Said she didn’t like where things were going with the coven. The word she used was… experiments.”
The word lands like a shard of glass.
“Experiments?” Taren echoes.
Rowen clears his throat. “Tobias isn’t the only marked human.”
My pulse stutters, and the room tilts. “What?”
“There’s another one,” Rowen explains, tone gentle but firm. “Didn’t say who they’re bonded to, just that it’s a stronger bond than yours.”
Grant nods grimly. “And for all we know, there could be more than just the one.”
My stomach turns. I want to feel relieved that I’m not alone, but all I feel is sick. Another marked human?
“What’s the point?” I ask, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “What are they trying to do?”
Grant looks to Taren. “That’s what we still don’t know. Kaine killed her before we could get that far. But Trivanka called it a shadow bond. Does that sound familiar?”
Taren shakes her head. “No. I’ve never heard of it.”
He grits his teeth. “I want you to dig into it. See what you can find. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
Jericho clears his throat. “I hate to say this, but what if he’s trying to revive blood slaves?”
The room goes still.
Only Evan seems confused. “Blood slaves?”
Red shifts in his seat. “It’s a terrible stain on supernatural history.
Vampires once claimed humans as living reservoirs—feeding from them, screwing them, keeping them hollowed out and unable to live on their own.
They’d feed them just enough of their blood to sustain their life, and the humans would become dependent on it.
Addicted to it. Over time, they’d be willing to do anything for their masters. ”
“Even kill,” Sage adds. “It was outlawed long ago.”
Everyone turns to me, and Jericho’s voice is soft as he asks, “Did he ever feed you his blood?”
I cover my mouth, swallowing bile. Slowly, I shake my head. “N-no.”
Grant doesn’t seem convinced. “You sure about that?”
“I think I’d remember if I drank blood!”
His jaw ticks. “Did you overhear anything at the club? Any kind of plan that would explain—?”
“No,” I cut in. My heart kicks against my ribs, hating the way he’s staring at me. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Trivanka said you were the first. So they must’ve said something around you. Told you something.”
“I don’t know anything!” I shriek. “Rip never said anything! When he marked me, it wasn’t something he really thought through.”
Taren tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him and Orem talking, then they came over to me in a rush. Rip forced me to take a drink, which drugged me. Then he drew the mark with his blood, and Orem sealed it. That’s it. That’s all I know! I swear.”
Rowen’s hand finds my knee under the table, steadying me. His glare toward Grant could strip paint.
“Was it Rip’s idea, or Orem’s?” Taren asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m asking because it might help us understand the motive. If it was Rip’s, we can assume it’s just because he’s a selfish bastard who wants things for himself. If it’s Orem’s….” She trails off. “There’s a lot of things he can do with his magic. Dark things.”
“And trauma can make us forget,” Grant presses. “So you still might remember something if you try.”
“Grant, enough,” Rowen snaps. “He’s told us what he knows.”
Grant doesn’t look away. I shrink into myself, throat tight. Does he know about the voices? Either way, it’s not from the mark—it’s because of what I am. A half-blood. And it’s only going to get worse too. Soon, I’ll start seeing things. Throwing things. Screaming at people who aren’t there.
It’s exactly what happened to my mom.
I want to cry. How could the universe tie me to Rowen, to these amazing people, when my life is completely unraveling? I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to lose them.
I don’t want to become the thing everyone is afraid of.
The meeting drags on—talk of contacting nearby packs, Jericho offering to reach out to Kaine again, and forming some sort of strategy for defense. It’s all background noise compared to the ringing in my ears. Once again, this is all about me. My mark.
As the pack disperses, Red comes over to me. “Do you still have the bracelet?”
I nod, my fingers curling so tight my nails cut into my palms.
“Start wearing it. Or let one of us wear it.” It’s not a suggestion. “Once Foxx hears Trivanka is dead, he’s going to assume it was us. Which means they might come for Jericho.”
I bite my lip.
“And Grant’s right—if you remember anything, or if anything… weird happens, you need to come to us. Got it?”
I stare at him, convinced he knows about the moment in the darkroom too. Shame fills me. How can I feel like I’m letting these people down and risking their lives at the same time?
“Come outside with me?” Rowen says softly.
He makes each of us a cup of hot cocoa, then snags a blanket from the couch and takes me outside to be alone. The air is cold and clear, the sky a pale winter blue.
We curl up on the porch swing, drinking the hot chocolate. An owl hoots somewhere in the distance, and the world feels quiet for once. Mostly, anyway. The heaviness of the conversation still lingers.
Rowen’s fingers brush over my hand. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
His expression is unreadable. “Better now that you know the truth about us.”
I smile and lean into him. I consider telling him about the voice in the darkroom. I know I need to after he’d taken a leap of faith last night. But the moment doesn’t feel right. It’s just one more thing hanging over our heads.
I lean into him. “It’s scary hearing I’m not the only human with this mark.”
Rowen sighs. “Even more terrifying is not knowing what it is.”
“Grant said they called it a shadow bond. Do you think that’s because it’s made with dark magic?”
He considers it. “Maybe. But like Trivanka said, you were the first. So they might not’ve known what they were doing yet. Which means, whatever they did to the next one was probably very different.”
I shudder. It also means they could’ve screwed up. Turned my brain to soup or something.
The front door swings open, and Grant comes out with the drone.
Rowen laughs. “You’re starting to scout more with that thing than you are as a wolf.”
“It’s safer, is all.”
“Mm-hmm. Your poor wolf is not going to keep up soon.”
Grant rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”
Their banter chases away some of the dread. I take another sip of the warm, chocolate-rich drink. We might not know what’s coming, but at least for now, everyone’s safe.
At least for now, I can be happy.
I just don’t know how long “for now” will last.