Chapter 22
DARIUS
Xander was not in the forest.
A thorough search had proven that. By the time we returned to camp, heads down and tails dragging, the pack was distraught.
This was unheard-of, to lose an Alpha Mate like this, and without a trace.
I tried to hold myself together, both Xander and the pack needed me to function at my best right now, even though inside I was frantic with worry and close to falling apart.
As I strode my way to our room, I searched our telepathic link again. I thought I caught a trace of him, but the link was incomplete, maybe broken or …blocked.
Blocked? Had he blocked me?
I stared around our room: the rumpled covers from our last encounter, Xander’s clothes, neatly folded and placed on the chair beside the bed, mine still scattered haphazardly on the floor.
He was not your traditional submissive omega.
No way would he tidy up after me. A wistful smile twisted my lips.
I liked him just the way he was, and I missed him.
Zendius surprised me, appearing at my shoulder.
His entrance into my private room was presumptuous, and I had to tamp down on the instinctive flare of aggression at the appearance of the alpha in the private space I shared with my mate.
I reminded myself he was my friend and he was trying to help me.
“What are you going to do?” Zendius asked.
“I’m going to the office. I need to report this to the police.”
I whirled in place, facing Zendius and herding him out of the room. Even as a friend, my wolf did not want him in our personal sanctuary.
“The police? Are you sure that’s wise?”
“I have to report him missing. The police have a lot of resources and they’ll help search for him.”
Zendius gave me a pitying look, as he lengthened his stride to keep up with me. We’d reached the office, and I had my hand on the drawer where I kept my cell phone. The door latch clicked loudly as Zendius closed the door behind himself.
The phone was in my hand and the screen had flashed to life, when Zendius cleared his throat. I paused.
The alpha stepped up to me.
“Darius. I’m sorry, but it’s obvious he’s left you. Don’t make it worse by making a scene about it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? He hasn’t left, he’s fucking disappeared!” I snapped, the anger taking ahold of me. I felt my throat thicken, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I was barely holding my wolf at bay.
Zendius shook his head. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but he told me yesterday he wasn’t really happy here.” He paused, then, “He said he was faking it to keep you happy, until he could get away.”
I stared in disbelief, shocked. Xander wouldn’t have done that. Would he?
“I find it hard to believe he’d do that.”
“He’s been unhappy for a while, but I honestly didn’t believe he would run away, or I would have said something. I’m sorry.”
There was some truth in that… he had been unhappy. But not now. Surely. Had the last week been a lie?
“Just… leave me alone for a while,” I told him. I felt the tension banding across my forehead and the prickle of moisture in my eyes, but I’d be damned if I fell apart in front of my friend. “I need some space.”
Zendius nodded understandingly, retreating to the door. “I’ll go put out any rumors that have started.”
The chair squeaked as my weight dropped into it, nearly rolling out from under me.
I grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled myself back in.
The timber was comfortingly solid in a world that was spinning off its axis.
It was hewn from our own forest, and I felt the power of the earth steady my wolf while I thought.
Had Xander left me? His early days here had been so difficult for him, and I had been blind to his suffering at the time. Had I been naively unperceptive again, thinking our union was as satisfying – no, thrilling – for him as it was for me?
I sighed. Xander had told me he’d intended to run away. Maybe he’d done just that.
*****
Zendius’ comments had given me pause. I slid the cell phone into my back pocket and headed off down the corridor to find Xeres.
“Come in,” a voice called out, before my knuckles had time to touch the wooden door. I shook my head. Even distressed as I was, I couldn’t help being amazed how the mage always sensed my presence at his door.
The door opened of its own accord, as it always did, and I entered.
Xeres was sitting at his gloomy desk as he habitually did, but quite unlike his usual self-contained manner, his head swung up sharply, as if he sensed my distress.
The cowl puddled around his shoulders and his eyes gleamed sharply as he studied me.
“Xander’s gone. He disappeared during the run.”
Two golden eyes blinked at me. He reminded me of a cat.
Softly, he said, “and you think I know where he’s gone?”
“I think you could find out where he is, yes. If you wanted to.” I looked towards his scrying ball, sitting on a shelf, gleaming palely in the subdued light.
Xeres’ eyes followed the direction of my gaze. He hesitated. The silence drew out. He seemed to be trying to come to a decision on something. I thought that was whether to scry for Xander, but it wasn’t.
“Darius,” he cleared his throat, a delicate soft sound from such a youthful mage, “Alpha. Has it occurred to you that Xander may have chosen to leave?”
Having a second person suggest this to me in such a short span of time was causing my heart to pound and a nervous flutter of my pulse started in the crook of my neck. My confidence was starting to waver.
“Did he… has he said anything to you?” I asked quietly. I clenched my fists at my sides, afraid of what terrible truths Xeres was about to reveal.
“He came to see me not long after he arrived here. And he implied then that he didn’t want to stay. I did think, though, that he had since changed his mind.”
I didn’t react to the news that my omega had been discussing his displeasure with our mage.
The mage held any role they chose in a pack: confessor, advisor, or they paid no attention at all to the pack in which they lived.
Generally, we were fortunate that Xeres occasionally involved himself in pack affairs, at my explicit request. If Xander had chosen to unburden himself to the mage, it was not my business to object.
“I thought so too.”
There was another long silence, then Xeres apparently came to a decision, because he leaned across the desk and plucked the magic globe from where it sat on the shelf. He muttered a few words, then blew a fine layer of dust off the surface.
“I’ll locate him, but if looks as though he’s trying to hide from you, then I won’t tell you where he is.”
I nodded agreement. After all, what choice did I have?
“As long as I know he’s safe…”
Xeres cradled the sphere in his cupped hands.
He mumbled some words I either couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand and gazed searchingly into the depths of the scrying ball.
I waited, the silence of the room oppressive, the only sounds the soft huff of Xeres’ breathing, and the pounding of my heart.
I stared intently at the mage, willing him to find my mate and tell me all was well, but instead, his eyes narrowed.
Visible even in the sullen gloom, I could see the deep V forming in the middle of his forehead.
What is it? I didn’t dare say the words aloud, afraid to break his concentration, or to incite his ire, since mages could be unpredictable.
Xeres put the sphere carefully back on the shelf.
I waited anxiously for him to speak, but it was as if he had forgotten I was there.
He grasped his chin between thumb and index finger, with the elbow resting on his other arm which had wrapped around his waist in a highly pensive posture, as his frown deepened.
It wasn’t unusual to see him lost in contemplation or deep in a trance, but I’d never before seen him perplexed.
He looked up at me, brows raised.
“I can’t find him.”
I couldn’t have felt any colder.
“What do you mean, you can’t find him? Even if he’s… dead,” I choked up, “you should still be able to find him, right?”
The mage’s eyes flashed an eerie blue before reverting to their usual golden color. Was he angry? I didn’t care.
“He’s not dead,” Xeres said, carefully enunciating each word. “But I can’t locate him. There’s something blocking me. I should be able to see him.”
Even in the dim light, it was possible to see the worry etched on Xeres’ face. It was an emotion I’d never seen on the reserved mage before, and I realized his anger wasn’t directed at me. He was angry at himself.