Chapter Nine
C hapter Nine
Hendrix walked through the front door, the mouthwatering aroma of stuffed peppers hitting him. He drew in a deep breath, the scent both comforting and bittersweet. Leaving had been the last thing he’d wanted, but a three-car accident had left their small-town hospital shorthanded, with only one doctor on call. Hendrix had been pulled in to help.
“I’m home,” he called into the quiet, his voice carrying through the stillness. A pinch struck his gut, sharp and unexpected. How long had it been since he’d said those words? Too long. He’d said them when he was married, and now he was saying them again to his mate.
Hendrix stood in the silence. Despite the earlier argument and his pride, the undeniable truth was there. He wanted that quiet domesticity with Zavian, an ordinary life filled with extraordinary moments, like cooking dinner together and making love.
Zavian was his. Stubborn, surly, and annoyingly beautiful. A coffee thief who somehow, without warning, had carved out a space inside Hendrix that no one else could fill.
Smiling, he headed into the kitchen, only to find it empty. A quick pivot took him through the rest of his one-story home, but it didn’t take long to confirm he was alone.
Maybe Zavian had to step out. Sure, the man could weave destinies in his sleep, but even Fate had a life outside of their moments together.
A life Hendrix realized he knew almost nothing about.
He thought of Melric, but Hendrix shoved it aside. Zavian wouldn’t betray him. Not after the explosion earlier. He wouldn’t set foot near that lunatic.
“Guess I’ll be eating dinner alone.” Hendrix’s voice sounded hollow, even to himself, as he headed into the kitchen. His gaze caught the pan on the stove, the foil stretched tightly over it, four pepper-shaped indents marring its surface.
Zavian hadn’t eaten.
His heart sank like a stone when he spotted the messy scrawl across the top of the foil in black marker, written in hurried, uneven strokes.
There was no other way. Forgive me.
Forgive him for what? A weight crushed down on his chest as the cold certainty that Zavian wasn’t coming back hit him. His mate had abandoned him, just like Michael had.
Snarling, Hendrix snatched the dish off the stove and hurled it at the wall with everything he had. An animalistic sound ripped from his throat, raw and guttural. The pan exploded on impact, glass splintering across the kitchen and food debris dripping everywhere. Red sauce streaked down the wall like blood, reminding him of the gaping hole tearing through his heart.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t… The pain was so deep, so consuming, it felt like their bond was unraveling, threads pulling taut until they threatened to snap.
Hendrix threw his head back and roared, the sound shaking the walls before he yanked the back door open. Shifting into his lion, he bolted into the night, not caring if his neighbors saw the massive beast fleeing through the dark. He didn’t care about anything except outrunning the pain. He raced to escape the unbearable loss, the memories of Zavian’s laughter, and the way his mate had held him so tenderly.
If he could, Hendrix would keep running forever, until his heart froze over, hardened into an unfeeling block of ice. Only then could he silence the cavernous ache that hollowed out his chest.
* * * *
Aldrin tucked his hands into his front pockets, glancing around at the same illusion Panahasi had been sucked into nearly three years ago. The trees were still flattened, the castle in ruins, and the ground still bore the scars of what had taken place.
The only difference was the absent wolf.
Zavian lay curled on the ground, sweat-damp hair clinging to his scalp, his wrinkled clothes a contrast to his usual pristine self.
With a sigh, Aldrin sat down next to him, loosely wrapping his arms around his bent legs. Destinies weren’t weaving together. Mates weren’t finding each other, and too many people were straying from the paths Zavian had laid out for them.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” Aldrin brushed a few strands of damp hair away from Zavian’s handsome face. The brother was suffering, no doubt about it. “You’ve spent eons making the world a better, loving place, and your own path turned around and kicked you square in the gonads.”
“Mock me. I really don’t care anymore.” Zavian’s voice was a dead whisper, as lifeless as a dust-blown wasteland. He curled tighter into himself, his empty gaze fixed on the crumbling ruins of the castle as though staring at them long enough might make them whole again.
It was worse than Aldrin had thought. He’d felt it the instant Zavian had mated, the same way he felt every connection in every being, a ripple through the vast, cosmic web Zavian had woven into the fabric of existence.
Most beings who knew Aldrin, truly knew him, thought he’d created the universe alone. Not exactly. He’d had help from the pathetic, tangled mess next to him.
You couldn’t have a big bang without fate decreeing it. Still, they’d rarely gotten along, Zavian too uptight for Aldrin’s liking. But he still cared deeply about Zavian, even if he hadn't always shown it.
“I would never mock your pain, hon,” Aldrin said softly. “That’s a sacred line not even I would cross.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, both lost deep in thought. And then Aldrin spoke the truth. “You were right to punish Panahasi for what he’d done, no matter how unintended. He’s too powerful to be so careless.”
Zavian merely grunted.
It wasn’t worse than he thought. It was catastrophic if he just confessed that Panahasi deserved to be punished, and Zavian wasn’t crawling down Aldrin’s throat.
“Wanna tell me what happened?” He ran a knuckle down Zavian’s cool cheek. “Maybe I can help.”
It wasn’t just about getting Zavian to resume his duties, which Aldrin needed him to. It was also about caring for the oldest friend he had, though he doubted Zavian thought they were.
“I’ve been a pretty shitty friend, haven’t I?” He forced back the urge to point out he’d just rhymed. Now wasn’t the time.
“Just read my thoughts,” Zavian murmured.
The request sent a ripple of unease through Aldrin. Zavian would sooner die than let anyone invade his mind. He’d once fucked someone’s destiny sideways when they’d tried.
That was one colossal reason Aldrin had never dared. Fate could screw him if he tried, and Aldrin didn’t take any chances when it came to his mate.
“Just remember you said it.” He dove into Zavian’s head, looking only for the cause of his near catatonic state. But… damn . What he saw made him pause.
The way Zavian caged his weaving, separating it from the rest of his mind, was a masterpiece of control, a fortress of power Aldrin silently admired. Threads of destinies glimmered like galaxies, vibrant and alive, yet ordered within perfect, impenetrable barriers. It was a mind built to survive the weight of infinity.
In that moment, Aldrin admitted, silently and grudgingly, that Zavian just might be the more powerful of the two. As Aldrin skimmed the locked-away corridors of his friend’s mind, he could feel it—power beyond measure, caged and restrained, a sleeping leviathan Zavian refused to unleash.
Aldrin had enough pride to acknowledge it. Zavian could’ve ended him when they’d clashed here before. So why the hell hadn’t he? Why had he backed down ?
He found the answer nestled deep within Zavian’s memories. The guy didn’t care about proving his strength or flaunting his dominance. That wasn’t his way. Aldrin’s respect for Zavian grew.
And then he stumbled across a memory that made him freeze. His grin slipped clean off his face. Zavian was sitting with some human. No, scratch that— a fucking psychopath .
“Jesus, Zavian,” he growled, unable to hide his disbelief. “You made him immortal?”
Aldrin had pulled some legendary stunts for love interests in his time, but he’d never crossed the line into insanity. This? This was next-level lunacy.
Fast forwarding, he saw Dr. Hendrix Baldwin. The lion shifter was Zavian’s mate. Aldrin had decreed it since fate couldn’t do it himself. He just hadn’t specified who the person would be.
Grant Zavian a mate who will be everything he needs. May my words travel beyond the reaches of space and time, finding the one who can bring him peace and happiness.
Aldrin still remembered the words he’d whispered through the cosmos eons ago.
Hendrix had a heart of gold, but he didn’t just skate through life. Every mistake, every failure, every wrong he’d done had cost him. But the lion shifter had learned from them. They made him into the man he was today. Hendrix believed that you didn’t kick a man when he was down. You grabbed his hand and pulled like hell to not only get him back on his feet but dust him off. He knew the struggle, the pain, the loneliness and heartache of life.
He was slow to piss off, but when you pushed him to that point, drop to your knees and pray and may god have mercy on your dumbass soul. Aldrin grinned. That was exactly what Zavian needed. If the idiot would stop wallowing and start protecting.
“Are you going to leave Hendrix to deal with Melric alone?”
Zavian finally looked at him. “I left, which means Melric left town.” He glanced toward the grass.
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Aldrin got up. “Only a coward runs away. You’re a pain in the ass with all your rules, but I never pegged you as spineless. I should call Panahasi and let him know he can probably kick your ass right now, and trust me, he’s chomping at the bit for a piece of you.”
Aldrin might’ve been a crappy friend, but he would be damned if he allowed Zavian to throw away his one chance at happiness. If anyone deserved to drown in bliss, it was the man who had woven it into so many lives.
Zavian narrowed his eyes but didn’t say a word.
“Just so you know, while you’ve been wallowing in your illusionary ‘safe space,’ Melric’s still plotting. Only now, he wants Hendrix dead.”
Zavian exploded to his feet, his voice a raw snarl. “But I left!”
Aldrin shrugged, unfazed by the outburst. “Melric didn’t. So, are you going to stand with your mate and fight, or leave him defenseless while you sit here crying into your tissue?”
“I hate you.” Zavian’s glare could have burned through stone.
“Love you too, buddy.” Aldrin smirked, his tone light, but his chest eased when he saw the familiar fire flare back into Zavian’s eyes. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
Zavian’s fists clenched, his voice quieter now but edged with determination. “How do I stop Melric? Anything I do to him I feel twice as much.”
Aldrin sighed, his humor fading. He couldn’t help with this one. It was Zavian’s screwup to fix, and the guy knew it. Only the person who had granted immortality could revoke it.
“Get creative.” Aldrin spread his arms like it was obvious.
Zavian’s brows knitted. “That’s it? That’s your wisdom?” He snorted. “Thank the stars you’ve got your looks to fall back on.”
“I already told you, I’m mated, flirt.” Aldrin’s chuckle echoed through the broken landscape, rich and unbothered.
Zavian scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. A small laugh broke free, a sharp contrast to the brooding shadows around him.
Aldrin blinked theatrically. “I need to find my mate. Clearly, the world’s ending.”
Zavian shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Then I better go get mine.”
And just like that, Zavian dissolved into mist, the vapor spiraling skyward before streaking through the clouds like a comet. The dramatic exit was so very him .
Aldrin watched, his grin sly and appreciative. “Guy knows how to exit with style.” He glanced around, shivering as a gust of the illusion’s unnatural wind cut through him. “How does he find solace in such a creepy place?”
With a final shudder, Aldrin vanished, the faint glimmer of power sparking in his wake.
* * * *
Hendrix stood in his kitchen, staring at the red sauce stains smeared down the wall. They’d dried, darkened, hardened into something he couldn’t clean no matter how hard he scrubbed. It felt fitting, like a scar he couldn’t erase.
He should’ve run a paint brush over it. Should’ve wiped the evidence of his anger clean and moved on. But every time he looked at it, his mind was dragged back to last night. Zavian’s scrawled note. The crushing silence. It felt like someone had scooped out Hendrix’s heart, leaving a void so deep it echoed with every breath he took.
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours since he’d seen Zavian.
Twenty-four hours of throwing himself into his work, listening to kids chatter about dinosaurs and superheroes, completing charts, and pretending everything was fine. Hendrix had smiled when he needed to, laughed at jokes when he didn’t want to, and let himself be the caring, dependable doctor everyone relied on.
Because what the hell else was he supposed to do?
Dragging his gaze away from the wall, he sank into a kitchen chair with a heavy sigh. The house was enveloped in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. Each sound seemed to echo through the empty space, amplifying the weight of his thoughts.
Forgive me.
The words from Zavian’s note haunted him, replaying over and over in his mind. Forgive him for leaving? For abandoning Hendrix without an explanation? For being a coward?
He let out a bitter breath, sinking back against the chair. The man who’d cooked dinner with him, teased him, kissed him like he was something worth holding on to had turned around and walked out of his life.
The knock was barely audible, a faint and hesitant sound that struggled to cut through the thick fog of Hendrix’s thoughts.
Knock. Knock .
He stilled, his gaze snapping toward the front door. His heart began to race, hope rising like a tidal wave he couldn’t control.
It could be nothing, just a neighbor or someone dropping off mail that was delivered to the wrong address.
But deep down, he knew.
Slowly, he rose from his chair and padded barefoot across the cool kitchen floor as he made his way to the door. With each step, his anticipation grew until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Placing a hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and steeled himself.
And then he opened it.
Standing before him was Zavian, looking disheveled with wild strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His usual sharp blue eyes were now dulled with uncertainty as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. Hendrix's throat constricted, a thousand words fighting to escape, yet none of them could make it past his lips.
Finally, Zavian lifted his gaze and met Hendrix’s eyes. The man’s expression was uncertain, not weak by any means. Zavian would never be weak. But there was vulnerability in those strikingly blue eyes that made something twist painfully in Hendrix’s chest.
“Hey,” Zavian said softly.
Hendrix cleared his throat, his voice sounding rough when he finally spoke. “Hi.”
Another heavy silence hung between them.
Zavian shifted his weight but didn’t make a move to step inside. “I shouldn’t have left.”
“No kidding,” Hendrix responded, his tone flat and harsh.
A flicker of pain crossed Zavian’s face at his words. “I thought I was protecting you.”
“By leaving?” Hendrix leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he studied Zavian's features closely. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I…” The slightest hint of uncertainty flickered in his mate’s eyes, disappearing so quickly that Hendrix almost missed it. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you, isn’t it?” The bitterness in his tone surprised even him.
Zavian looked at him then, fully, and Hendrix felt pinned in place by that gaze. “I don’t know how to fix this,” his mate confessed quietly, the words carrying an unspoken weight behind them. Hendrix knew it must have been difficult for him to say them.
The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly as they both stood there.
Studying Zavian for a few moments, Hendrix saw him for who he truly was. Not Fate, an omnipotent being with the power to weave destinies and alter lives. Just a man who’d made a mistake. A man who was now standing at his doorstep, trying to make things right.
Zavian’s gaze scanned the familiar space as though afraid he no longer belonged.
With a deep sigh, Hendrix relaxed his shoulders a little. “Come in.”
After a moment of hesitation, Zavian stepped through the doorway with his hands still clasped behind him. Hendrix closed the door with a soft click, the sound echoing through the silent house.
The warm light from the kitchen spilled into the living room, casting long shadows on the floor. Stopping by the couch, his mate appeared out of place as he looked around. The guy had never had a home, but Hendrix wanted to share his with his mate, to make memories that would fill their house with laughter and love.
But first he had to set the stubborn man straight.
“Sit.” Hendrix gestured toward the couch, his voice a bit harsh.
Stiffly, Zavian lowered to the cushions, his tense posture giving away the fact he didn’t like to be told what to do. Too goddamn bad. If his mate wanted to make amends with Hendrix, he would learn how to be humble.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Zavian’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that.”
“You thought leaving was the answer?” Hendrix shook his head in disbelief. “What, you thought I would forget about my mate and simply move on?”
Zavian’s nostrils flared as he gazed up at Hendrix. “I was keeping you safe.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he ground out. “That’s just fear talking. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Zavian. You don’t get to leave me.”
As hard as Hendrix tried, he’d failed to keep his own fear out of his tone. He’d never felt so hollow inside, not on this level. For those twenty-four hours, he’d thought his mate had truly abandoned him. If Zavian had, Hendrix would have spent the rest of his unnaturally long life feeling like his heart was being torn out over and over again. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slug Zavian for putting him through that mental and emotional torture or hold on to him and never let him go.
With the way he felt, he might do both.
Zavian looked up then, his lashes fluttering with a jolt of raw emotion, like each blink stoked the embers of his anguish. “I was only thinking about your safety, Hendrix. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“Well, you did.” Hendrix’s throat burned, but his voice stayed steady. “You did, Zavian. You hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”
Turning his head away, Zavian clenched his jaw. His eyes had dulled, like a light growing dim behind heavy clouds of regret.
“But you came back,” Hendrix said after a moment, his voice softening. “And that counts for something.”
Zavian stared at him, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“I don’t forgive you yet,” Hendrix said honestly. “I’m still pissed. I’m still hurt. But you’re here.”
“I’m here,” Zavian echoed, like he was trying to convince himself of it.
“And that’s a start.” Their connection pulsed through the distance, an intimate undercurrent no amount of arguing could ever erase.
A sudden need to close the gap consumed Hendrix, fueled by the undeniable draw of Zavian’s presence on the couch. Then he caught Zavian’s gaze flicking to his lips, a silent challenge brewing.
Hendrix let a low growl slip, reveling in the way Zavian’s breath hitched at the sound. “Nuh-uh. You come to me.”
“But I’m on a couch,” Zavian said.
The man had a point. The sofa cushion sank under Hedrix’s weight as he closed in, determined to erase the space still lingering. Their shared breaths intermingled, each inhalation stoking the heat that radiated from them.
“This isn’t fixed.” Hedrix tasted the residual bitterness of their argument on Zavian’s tongue, an oddly intoxicating aftershock.
“I wouldn’t expect you to forgive so easily.” Zavian moaned, his nails scraping down Hendrix’s back. “Why don’t you fuck me into oblivion so I never forget how badly I messed up.”
Hendrix chuckled into his mate’s neck, but his lion urged him to taste that defiance, to conquer every breath that passed those lips.