Chapter 8 #3
Wadim attempted to pull her back to him, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I always talk too much,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, “but you were spiraling.” She leaned back so that her shoulder was resting against his again. Wadim stared at her for a few more seconds, with a longing that Rachel had seen many times on her own mate’s face.
“Not in the presence of others,” he told her through the bond.
Rachel nearly rolled her eyes. “I forget that you like to eavesdrop in my head.”
“It’s not eavesdropping when I have the right to be there.”
“Possessive,” she said, though it came out in a teasing tone.
“Damn straight.” His eyes were still on his task, but she could feel his attention on her. After watching him for a second longer, Rachel looked back at Wadim and Zara.
Zara said something too soft for Rachel to hear, but there was no longer humor on either of their faces. And there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Wadim grabbed her hand in his and pulled it to his chest, just over his heart. “I know.”
Rachel exchanged a glance with Gavril as silence settled over the group again, the kind of silence that did not need to be filled because everyone sitting inside it already understood what it meant.
Zara stared down at their hands for a long moment before speaking, her voice quieter than it had been a minute ago. “Sorry, it just hits me out of nowhere sometimes.” She looked up at Rachel. “I keep expecting them to walk around a corner.”
No one asked who. They all knew. Dalton and Jewel.
Loss sat differently on every wolf, but it always sat somewhere.
It found the shape of the one it had taken root in.
For Zara, it apparently sat in corners and hallways and the edges of her vision, waiting with footsteps that never came.
For Rachel, it was the voices, knowing she’d never hear Jewel give another random fact, or Dalton’s soft tone he only ever used with his mate.
Zara’s fingers slid through Wadim’s hair gently, no doubt grounding and comforting, the movement slow and deliberate, the way a mate touched something precious she was not willing to let drift away from her.
“It seems so unfair,” she whispered. “I survived the vampires, and the nightmare of that. I don’t know how.
I don’t know why, but I did. And I’m nobody.
I’m nothing special. But, Jewel, she was special.
She was a freaking genius, brave, bold in that quiet way that surprised people.
She had grit down to her bones. Why her? ”
Wadim leaned into her touch just slightly.
There was a slight growl in his voice as he spoke to her.
The playful, jovial Wadim was no longer present, and his wolf was in control.
His eyes glowed as he looked at her. “Mate,” he rumbled, in a tone that was anything but gentle.
“No one person is more important, or special, than another. The Great Luna does not play favorites with her creation. Every single one of us, you included, have a purpose. We don’t see the whole picture.
We see only the small pieces each day. We may never see the impact our lives have on others.
But we should live in such a way that it doesn’t matter if we see that fruit or not.
Jewel lived every day trying to do the right thing.
She lived loving others deeply. She went through hell but came out stronger.
“Did she make mistakes? Absolutely, but show me one person who hasn’t.
And whether we understand it or not, her purpose and Dalton’s purpose had been served, and now they are home with our Creator.
They were faithful in their lives to pursuing good and helping others, and now it is their time to rest. We must continue on.
Our pack, the other packs, our allies, all of us must take up the mantle and continue to fight. ”
“Five minutes more,” Zara said softly.
And suddenly Rachel's chest hurt. Not from grief exactly.
From love. Because despite all of this, despite the corruption and Raja and the fear and the waiting, they still found ways to hold each other together.
They touched. They teased. They kissed each other quiet when the world got too loud.
They grieved openly in front of a pack they trusted and did not apologize for the weight of it.
That mattered.
More than any of them probably realized.
She let her eyes drift back to the water and kept her hand still in her lap, and for one small, fragile moment she let herself believe the breathing room might last a little longer.
Down the bond, Gavril’s presence warmed against her like a hand she could not see, steady, here, hers.
And beneath her, still the mountain hummed, a tune that was off key, like a note gone too sharp.
Her wolf grated at the sound. There was nothing that could be done about it in that moment.
“Rest, mate,” Gavril’s wolf rumbled. “We will deal with the evil that is daring to touch one of ours.”
* * *
Aphid stood with his arms folded near one of the massive archways leading toward the lower passages.
He was further down the cavern system from the others, where the tunnels narrowed and the air grew cooler the deeper the stone went.
He had selected the location specifically because it was quiet.
Unfortunately, children apparently considered silence a personal challenge.
“You’re pointier up close.”
Aphid closed his eyes briefly. “I sensed you approaching,” he said without turning around. “Not to mention, you’re about as stealthy as a human.”
“No you didn’t. You’re just upset that I stepped on your foot earlier.”
"Yes,” the fae warrior said, “a memory I will carry into death." Aphid glanced down at him reluctantly.
Torvik grinned unrepentantly as he moved up beside the fae male, a carved stone figure clutched in one oversized hand. The child was short and stout. It was hard to tell if he would be tall or not. Trolls seemed to come in a wide variety of sizes, and it was pretty hard to tell their age as well.