Chapter Eleven
“ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Hendrix rose slowly, his movements calculated and menacing, every ripple of muscle promising retribution as he slid his jogging pants back into place, the fabric dragging over his skin like the warning scrape of claws against stone. The crack of his shoulders rolling was quiet, but it carried the same finality as a cocked gun.
“Am I?” The hatred in Melric’s eyes was palpable, radiating an intense heat that scorched everything in its path. He began to pace in a tight circle, his arms crossed, his thin frame radiating a volatile energy that set Hendrix’s teeth on edge. “You really shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours, you know.”
Hendrix’s gaze sharpened into a deadly focus as he flexed his hands. “You are pushing my patience to its limits, human.”
“Me?” Melric’s voice was high and tight. He’d stopped pacing and was now staring wide-eyed at Hendrix. “You’re the one screwing around with my man! I am sick and tired of other guys thinking they can touch him.” Melric took a step closer. Hendrix watched his every move for any sign he would attack. He wouldn’t hurt the lunatic, because that would hurt Zavian, but Hendrix would duct tape the son of a bitch to a kitchen chair in a heartbeat.
“I’ll never forgive you for this, Zavian.” Melric stomped his foot like a petulant child, his bottom lip thrust forward in a pout.
“You have become the bane of my existence.” Zavian’s voice carried the kind of calm that came from knowing he controlled the room without even trying, a quiet force that wrapped around you and didn’t let go. He rose, the motion smooth and unhurried. “How many ways must I tell you that there is nothing between us, Melric? Our brief relationship ended six centuries ago.”
“And I already told you that you’re mine as long as I’m immortal.” Melric’s tone didn’t rise or waver. It was steady and smooth, like the drip of poison sliding off the edge of a knife.
Right before Hendrix’s eyes the guy was unraveling. Even more so than he already had. The human had a strange glint in his eyes, a touch of madness that had wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
The guy hadn’t known sanity in a very long time, if ever.
“Grant me the patience for the things I can’t kill, the happiness to kill the things I can, and the wisdom to actually give a shit about the first one,” Zavian murmured from behind Hendrix.
For a brief moment, Hendrix was transported back to that first encounter—the charged air of Bluebird Café, the sharp contrast between Zavian’s cold dismissal and the warmth in his electric-blue gaze. It was the moment his world had shifted, and now, standing here, Hendrix felt it all over again. He couldn’t shake the thought that Zavian wasn’t just his mate. Zavian was his purpose, his reason.
“You need to leave,” Hendrix said, turning his attention back to Melric. He wanted to get back to his quiet time with his mate, to finish exploring the gorgeous man, to map out Zavian’s entire body with this tongue.
“Not until Zavian admits he still loves me,” Melric snarled.
In five seconds Hendrix’s lion was about to emerge. He was done entertaining the parasite’s delusions, but he wasn’t completely heartless. “Look, Melric…” Hendrix sighed. “I can put you in contact with a really good therapist who could help you sort things out.”
Hendrix truly believed you shouldn’t kick a man when he was down but pull him up and dust him off. Even someone like Melric, who could benefit from some good psych meds. He wasn’t being disparaging, not after being married to Michael who had his own set of demons, as well as working at the hospital where Hendrix came into contact with people who suffered from mental breaks.
“Therapy?” A scoff escaped Melric, loud and exaggerated, leaving no doubt of his disdain. Then his eyes narrowed. “Shove that suggestion up your ass, man-stealer.”
No one could say Hendrix didn’t try. “Get out of my house.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Melric argued, throwing his arms around like he was batting away a fly. “Not without Zavian.”
“Oh, you’re leaving.” Hendrix headed straight for Melric, ready to toss him out on his ass.
Hendrix had taken two steps toward the menace when Melric reached into his back pocket and whipped out a… Was that a dagger? “What’re you going to do, poke me with that pigsticker?” Undeterred, he took another step toward him, ready to shove that blade up Melric’s narrow ass.
“Hendrix, stop!” Zavian’s voice lashed out like a whip, freezing Hendrix in place. “That blade. It’s the Thorn of Oblivion. If it pierces you, there’s no healing. Not for shifters, not for anyone. It’s death. Permanent.”
Hendrix’s brows rose, and then his lips twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl. “You’re telling me this twig of a lunatic’s holding a game-over blade? Great. That’s just what this shitshow needed.”
Melric sneered, brandishing the dagger. “Oh, it’s far more than game over. One prick of this, and even the mighty Fate dies screaming.”
Hendrix tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low growl. “Is that why you’re waving it around like a kid with a sparkler? What’s wrong, Melric? Can’t get your way without cheating?”
“Cheating?” Melric’s voice rose, shrill and unhinged. “You don’t understand what he owes me! I gave up everything for him, and he threw me away like trash!”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Hendrix interrupted, his tone mocking as he jabbed a finger toward Melric. “You do not get to turn this into a Lifetime drama. You’re holding a murder weapon, screaming about unrequited love. On what planet is this okay?” He shot Zavian a glance. “You really fell for this?”
The mist started to coil around Zavian, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors, the hues twisting and dancing in a breathtaking display like they had when they’d mated. “It was a different era. Crazy was in.”
Melric’s face twisted with rage, his grip tightening on the blade. That was when Hendrix noticed the dagger seemed to devour the light rather than reflect it.
“You think this is funny?” Melric shrieked.
“No,” Zavian said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “This is far from humorous.” He took a step toward Melric, his presence radiating pure power and authority. “I have tried to reason with you, but you crossed a line you cannot come back from when you brandished that weapon at my mate!”
For a fleeting moment, Melric’s face froze in shock, his wild eyes reflecting something almost human—hurt, disbelief, a faint glimmer of betrayal. But it was gone in a flash, devoured by the storm brewing beneath. His features twisted, morphing into something unhinged as his lips pulled back into a snarl. The pain in his gaze bled into pure madness, a wildfire consuming reason. A guttural scream tore from his throat as he lunged at Hendrix, his movements erratic and fueled by blind rage, the dagger gleaming like a shard of chaos in his hand.
Everything unraveled in an instant. Zavian dissolved into mist, a blur of motion streaking toward Hendrix. He reformed just as Melric lunged with the dagger. The blade plunged deep into Zavian’s chest, striking just above his heart.
Zavian let out a primal scream, a shattering cry that pierced the air like a sonic boom. Its unearthly pitch pierced Hendrix’s being, slicing through bone and sinew to grip his soul with a merciless, icy claw. The entire room seemed to shudder in response, as if the universe itself was mourning the devastating loss that had caused such a harrowing cry.
“No!” Hendrix’s own roar erupted, jagged and broken, torn from the deepest part of him. His knees buckled as Zavian collapsed into his arms, the weight of his mate's body both grounding and annihilating him.
This couldn’t be happening. His chest constricted, his pulse thundering erratically as his hands desperately searched for something, anything , to stop the bloom spreading over Zavian’s chest. His mate’s normally radiant presence felt faint—flickering, like a dying star—and the unbearable hollowness of it punched through Hendrix, leaving him gasping as though he’d been gutted. “No, no, no, no, no…” he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice cracking under the strain.
Zavian was dead.
Lowering his mate gently, carefully to the floor, Hendrix turned his head, agony searing through him like a merciless fire. He rose with a feral snarl, his body trembling with barely contained fury. Melric stood frozen, his wide eyes reflecting a flicker of realization, a fleeting moment of clarity that vanished as quickly as it came.
“You’ve just destroyed everything I cherished,” Hendrix growled, his voice holding a guttural promise of retribution.
The shift was instantaneous, like an unstoppable force. One moment, Hendrix stood as a man, and the next, a massive lion loomed in his place. He lunged, claws flashing and jaws snapping, and the sound of Melric’s screams was drowned by the sickening crunch of bone and the wet tearing of flesh.
When it was over, Hendrix shifted back to his human form, standing over the ruined remains, his chest heaving. Then he turned back to Zavian, grief roaring louder than the violence that had just unfolded.
As he breathed heavily, the air stirred behind him. Hendrix whirled around, ready to unleash his fury on anyone who dared to approach. The loss of his mate felt like a void had been ruthlessly carved into his chest, suffocating him with despair and emptiness.
A stranger stood there, his gaze fixed on Zavian, a clash of horror and heartache swirling in his eyes. “How—” His voice cracked then hardened. “Who found the Thorn of Oblivion?”
Hendrix’s voice rasped out, raw and broken, “Who the hell are you?”
“A shitty friend.” The stranger lowered to his knees with a desperation that was almost tangible. His gaze snapped to Hendrix. “I need you to pull the knife.”
Hendrix recoiled at the thought. A doctor by profession, but now, he was just a shattered man. How could he pull the blade from his mate’s chest? Even in death, the idea of causing Zavian more pain was unbearable.
The stranger shot to his feet with a sudden fury, pointing a trembling finger at Zavian. “If that blade pierces me, this entire universe ends. Do you understand? Now, get that damn blade out of your mate so I can save him!”
Hendrix froze as the man’s eyes shifted, his breath catching at the sight. Where Zavian’s gaze had been a kaleidoscope of threads, this stranger’s held entire galaxies, swirling with nebulas and streaked with shooting stars. It was like staring into the fabric of existence itself.
Tearing his gaze away, Hendrix bent, gripped the hilt, closed his eyes, and yanked it free, feeling like he was going to be sick. He tossed the blade behind him and watched as the stranger hovered his hand over Zavian’s chest, but nothing happened. “Shit.” He threw his head back. “Panahasi!”
Hendrix took a step back when a swirling black void appeared, felt the weight of something ancient stepping into the room. He watched as the figure emerged, his presence carrying the weight of eons. Panahasi, the demon leader, and Life itself, exuded raw authority, his very presence sucking the air from the room.
As soon as Panahasi’s gaze fell on Zavian, his lip curled. “Did you call me here to thank whoever did this?”
Hendrix’s lion surged beneath his skin, his grief driving a rage so visceral it clawed at his throat. “You dare talk shit about my dead mate?” His voice cracked, but the weight behind it didn’t falter.
Panahasi’s glare flicked to Hendrix, and for a long moment, neither moved. Then the demon leader’s expression softened, though his tone remained cutting. “You want me to save the man who made me feel the pain of my bond severing?”
Hendrix’s fists clenched. “I don’t care what he made you feel. You will save him.”
“If you don’t, we all lose our mating bond,” the stranger said to Panahasi. “This time, it won’t be buried. It’ll be gone, along with everyone else who had a mate, including me. So yeah, fucking save him. Because if I lose my deep connection to Trey, I’ll destroy this universe myself.”
Panahasi lowered to his knees next to the stranger. “If you can’t save him, what makes you think I can? You made the damn universe.”
This had to be Aldrin. Hendrix had heard of him. The primal source.
“We made it.” He nodded toward Zavian.
“Will you two just save him!” Hendrix was holding on by a thread, the grief inside of him only digging deeper. “I want my mate back.”
Seeing Zavian lying there, lifeless, blood staining his chest, was more than Hendrix could bear.
Panahasi did the same thing Aldrin had, his hand hovering over Zavian’s chest. And just like with Adrin, nothing happened.
“I don’t understand.” Panahasi shook his head.
“Thorn of Oblivion,” Aldrin said quietly, as if afraid to say the name too loud.
Panahasi jerked to his feet, taking a step back, raw fear in his eyes. “You brought me near that blade?” He glanced around, his gaze falling to where Hendrix had tossed it. Fangs extended to razor-sharp points in the demon leader’s mouth, coming to rest against his chin.
Hendrix picked the dagger up and tossed it out the front door. “Now, save him!”
Panahasi stared at the door as if the blade could grow legs and walk back into the house.
“How are we going to fix this?” Aldrin got to his feet, his features twisted in anguish. “We don’t have much time before his decrees start to unravel.” The desperation in his voice would never match what Hendrix felt in his heart.
They couldn’t save Zavian. His mate was lost to him forever.
Hendrix hissed, grabbing his wrist when a searing pain burned his palm. Glancing down, he saw colorful lines start to weave intricate patterns across his flesh. What in the hell?
Aldrin grabbed Hendrix’s hand. “You mated Zavian.” He looked up at Hendrix. “Did he give you any of his powers?”
You have a part of my powers inside of you. The sensation will soon pass. Hendrix recalled the strange movement inside his chest. It had felt alive, like a separate entity stirring beneath his ribcage. He also remembered the oppressive sadness and aching emptiness threatening to swallow him whole.
“Press your hand over his wound,” Aldrin instructed in a rushed tone. “We don’t have much time, Dr. Baldwin.”
Hendrix quickly dropped to his knees. Please let this work. He pressed his palm over his mate’s chest, feeling the wetness of blood instantly coat his hand.
Zavian’s blood.
Then Hendrix felt the blood soak into his palm, like the pattern burned into his hand was absorbing it. It felt like… He frowned. It felt like the blood was pushing Hendrix’s hand up, just a little. It lifted a few inches on its own, and then he gasped.
The blood was swirling around white threads, coaxing the threads down into Zavian’s chest. When they touched, the white began to glow, colorful threads spreading over his skin in that same intricate pattern until Zavian’s entire body was covered in them.
Hendrix’s palm burned with an unearthly heat as the threads wove through him, searing their purpose into his very being. Every thread hummed with energy, their paths intertwining in a cosmic dance that defied comprehension. He wasn’t just channeling Zavian’s power. He was a conduit for something far greater.
It was like touching the fabric of existence itself, the threads pulsating with destinies untold, a celestial symphony that thrummed beneath his skin. Hendrix’s breath hitched as he felt the threads align, their energy surging through his mate like a river of life.
The white threads shimmered as they sank into Zavian’s wound, and the flesh began to knit together, glowing with an ethereal light that spread across his mate’s body like a second skin. Hendrix watched, awestruck, as the glow deepened, colors shifting and merging in a breathtaking display that seemed to hum with the very heartbeat of the universe.
And then, Zavian took a deep, gasping breath, and Hendrix’s world shifted back into focus.
Panahasi vanished, but Hendrix didn’t give his departure a second thought.
His throat constricted, tears burning, as he watched his mate open his eyes. The irises were once again a kaleidoscope of colors, the hues matching the ones covering his body. Now, not only were the colors glowing, but so was Zavian.
It was the most breathtaking thing Hendrix had ever seen.
“You back with us?” Aldrin asked, seeming unfazed by Zavian’s appearance.
Zavian scowled. “Why do I smell Panahasi?”
Aldrin chuckled. “Yeah, you’re back with us.”
Hendrix was unable to move, to say anything, afraid he was caught in a dream, one he would suddenly awaken from, only to find his mate still dead.
“I guess I owe you one,” Zavian said toward the ceiling.
“Not me,” Aldrin replied. “It kills me to admit it, but I was impotent trying to save you.” He growled. “Don’t ever repeat that to my mate.” He frowned. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”
With furrowed brows, Zavian glanced at Aldrin. “Then how?”
Aldrin nodded toward Hendrix. “Your mate.”
Zavian slowly turned his head, staring at Hendrix for the first time since his eyes had opened. Their gazes met, and it felt like the gravity had shifted, pulling Hendrix toward something inescapable and eternal. “You saved me?”
“Who else is going to steal coffee for me?” Hendrix’s voice was tight, cracking on the last word.
Zavian yanked him to the floor, clinging to him like the guy never wanted to let him go.
“Where did that blade come from?” Aldrin asked, interrupting their intimate moment.
“Melric.” Zavian sat up, his beautiful hair a tangled mess. “He had it in his back pocket.”
A dark, lethal expression crossed Aldrin’s features. “Where is he now?”
Hendrix looked behind him, Aldrin’s gaze following.
“Good.” Aldrin’s features relaxed, but his gaze still held its fury. “I’ll send someone to retrieve the dagger. I don’t want that damn thing anywhere near me.”
No one in the room did. “How did a blade that can kill even you two come into existence?” Hendrix asked.
Just when he thought the guy wouldn’t answer him, Aldrin murmured, “Zennor.”
Zavian visibly stiffened. Hendrix had no clue who that was but would wait to ask when they were alone.
“Glad to see you’re alive.” Aldrin squeezed Zavian’s shoulder, seeming lost in thought before he vanished.
Hendrix gazed at his mate then hugged him tightly, never wanting to let him go. “Since I saved you, you have to move in with me,” he said into Zavian’s neck.
“Never heard of that rule before.” There was a tightness to Zavian’s voice, like he was holding back tears. His mate was a powerful being, co-creator of the universe and weaver of destinies.
He wasn’t a weak man, not by a longshot. Which was why his vulnerability was a precious gift, one Hendrix would help nurture in their home.
Zavian wasn’t just a part of his life. He was the thread running through every moment, binding it all together.
* * * *
The little café on the edge of the cobblestone square was quiet, tucked away from the busy streets of Rome. Zavian leaned back in his chair, lazily scanning the square as he let the warmth of the sun settle over him. The faint aroma of pastries and freshly brewed coffee wafted on the breeze, mingling with the chatter of distant voices.
Across from him, Hendrix sat, his gorgeous mate looking at ease. He’d taken an overdue vacation from work so they could deepen their bond after what happened a few weeks ago. Zavian still couldn’t believe he’d died and didn’t like thinking about how close he’d come to a permanent lights-out.
For the first time in his existence, he didn’t feel invincible.
The blade forged by Zennor, a vile, merciless god the likes of which no one had ever seen before, had nearly unraveled everything. Zavian had been one of four who had forced Zennor into a billion-year sleep. In two hundred years, time would be up.
“This is where you stole the coffee from?” Hendrix’s lips curved into a teasing smile as he gestured toward his cup.
Zavian shook the memory away and smirked. “I already told you I’m not a thief. I left the money behind. And it’s not just coffee.”
When Hendrix tilted his head slightly, the sunlight caught the angles of his face in a way that made Zavian’s chest tighten. “No?”
How could he love someone this much? The way Hendrix looked at him, like Zavian was the only thing worth seeing, left him undone.
Lowering his gaze, Zavian stared into his cup. “It’s a moment,” he said quietly. “One that’s ours. Not stolen, not borrowed, just…ours.”
Hendrix didn’t respond immediately, but his silence wasn’t empty. It was thoughtful, the kind that seemed to reach across the table and settle in the space between them like a warm embrace.
Zavian reached for a bomboloni, lifting it from his plate. Hendrix’s gaze locked onto the movement, heat flickering in his eyes that had nothing to do with the warm pastry.
“You want it?” Zavian asked, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk.
Instead of answering, Hendrix’s hand shot out, his strong fingers curling around Zavian’s wrist with a confidence that made his pulse skip. Slowly, his mate leaned forward and took a bite, his lips brushing Zavian’s fingers in the process.
The contact sent a jolt through him, heat pooling low in his groin. He stared as Hendrix chewed, the way his mate’s lips moved drawing his focus in a way that felt almost indecent.
“Mmm. Still warm,” Hendrix murmured, his tone teasing as he leaned back.
Zavian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” Hendrix countered, his grin widening as he released Zavian’s wrist.
Leaning forward slightly, Zavian playfully narrowed his eyes. “About as much as I love you?” The words slipped out so effortlessly they took him by surprise. That wasn’t what he was about to say, but he refused to take them back.
A low purr rumbled in Hendrix’s throat. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
An unfamiliar warmth spread through Zavian, chasing away every shadow that had ever clung to him. Hendrix’s gaze was steady, unflinching, and it struck him that this man wasn’t just saying it. He meant it.
Zavian chuckled when Hendrix got up and moved his chair closer so they were sitting next to each other. Leaning into his mate, Zavian had never felt so content. “You’re not just a moment, kitty cat,” he said quietly, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “You’re the constant I never knew I needed. The one I never knew I could have.”
They simply sat there enjoying the morning, the world around them fading into the background.
Hendrix reached over, his fingers brushing Zavian’s in a touch that was both grounding and electrifying. “I think I’m rubbing off on you, Fate. You’re softer now,” he teased.
“Hmm. I think you might be right.” Zavian rested his head on Hendrix’s shoulder. “But only with you.”
Quiet settled between them, rich and full, as Zavian let himself be still. For the first time since he could remember, he felt whole—no chaos, no threats, no troubled mind. Just this. Just Hendrix.
He glanced down at their joined hands, the sight hitting him deeply. Hendrix was Zavian’s thread, the realization both humbling and exhilarating. His quiet refuge, a place where Zavian could be himself, stealing moments—and coffee—with the man he loved.
THE END