Chapter 28 #3
I nod stiffly. “Just reminiscing about life in the wilds,” I lie, hating its bitter taste on my tongue.
Regardless of my feelings toward mating Alistair, mating Revyn is also off the table.
Wild wolves are notoriously rejected from shifter packs—as evidenced by the steady stream of denials we received over the years we spent touring the realm.
We’ve been lucky not to have been killed on sight any time we roamed into pack territory, and that was without officially mating.
If we ever complete a mating bond, we will never be accepted into a pack.
A piece of my heart cracks, and I draw a sharp breath.
Revyn notices and rubs gentle circles onto my back, across my shoulders, and down the length of my spine.
It’s a comfort that I don’t deserve and one I shouldn’t encourage.
I force myself to lean forward rather than lie back and accept more of his attention.
He deserves someone who will accept him exactly as he is, not someone who’s running from it.
I take a deep breath and force myself to focus.
Having men on my mind is not going to help me ace my classes.
If I’m going to join a pack—which I have every intention of doing—I need to graduate top of my class first. Then, and only then, can I choose a mate; one from a high-ranking pack that will have no choice but to accept me once I prove my strength as the best shifter of my academic year.
My gaze finds Alistair’s across the room, and a bolt of lightning ignites the blood in my veins.
The blonde bitch isn’t merely clinging to him—her hand is in his lap as she feels him up in front of the entire first-year student body.
The only gratifying thing about it is that Alistair looks as annoyed as I feel, the pulse in his neck throbbing as she palms what looks like the most flaccid dick in the realm.
I’ve felt his cock—if it’s hard, there’s no way it’s fitting comfortably inside those tight fucking pants.
Still, to openly allow someone else to touch him—
A growl catches in my throat, and I have to claw it back into the depths of my soul.
What an asshole.
Then again, my kiss with Revyn was displayed in perfect clarity mere hours ago, the holo-feed capturing even the moment he slipped his tongue into my eager mouth.
Damn Professor Aesir.
But . . . he is right.
My bond with Alistair may be incomplete in its current state, but beyond that, it is broken—with no possible mend in sight. His inability to heal the burn I mistakenly gave him is evidence enough of how toxic our bond is.
Being true mates, it turns out, is fucking overrated.
Gemma and the male merfolk return to their seats. We sit in silence as we wait for Hardwicke to hammer the point of that little demonstration home.
She wastes no time. “Choosing your mate is the most important decision you will ever make.” The gravity of her statement fills the room with tension so thick that I can feel the grit of it on my tongue.
“The purpose of this academy is to ease the process. How you treat each other within these next three years, however, can either attract a mate or repel one.”
Her gaze narrows on Alistair, causing the female attempting to resurrect his limp dick to pull her hand from his lap and pretend to be modest. As soon as Hardwicke moves on, Blonde Bitch arches her back and clings to Alistair’s side, damn near pushing her perky tits in his face.
His jaw clenches as he looks everywhere but at her.
I barely suppress a snicker, but Revyn laughs out loud, earning both of us death glares from the Dire Pack Alpha-to-be.
“I’d argue how big your dad’s dick is matters too,” I joke, leaning back against Revyn’s knees for a welcome moment of normalcy between us.
He wraps an arm around my collarbone and nestles me between his thighs, his midnight eyes glittering with mirth as he latches onto my meaning.
“She can’t wait to impale herself on Daddy’s alpha cock,” he murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb along the hollow of my throat. “Since Alistair can’t get his up.”
We both glance at Alistair again to find his eyes glowing bright gold, like he can actually hear us—which, shit, he might be able to.
A few students surrounding us barely cover their snorts with coughing fits or perfectly-timed foot stomps. Even Callum shakes his head on a subtle laugh.
That doesn’t sit well with Professor Hardwicke.
“Ms. Ashburn and Mr. Malus, please join me at the front. You, too, Alistair. Let’s see how compatible you all are.”
Revyn waits for me to descend the stairs first, my feet touching the landing moments after Alistair.
We glare at each other as Professor Hardwicke positions us beside one another: me in the center between both men.
Once she has secured two clean glass bowls and set them on the table in front of us, she flips the dagger in the air and catches it at the handle, as though eager for what comes next. “Hold out your hands, palms up.”
One after the other, we obey, and like Gemma before us, none of us flinch as the blade kisses our skin.
My blood drips into both bowls while Alistair’s and Revyn’s keep to their own.
I bite my lip as our professor sloshes a clear liquid into the basins and swirls them one at a time.
“This won’t be entirely accurate on account of mating bonds having more to do with soul bonds than bloodlines, especially among shifters, but it will give us an idea—” She takes a quick breath as Alistair’s bowl begins to glow faintly, our blood mixing together to mimic a softer shade of gold than our eyes.
“See how the fated pair harmonizes when combined? Now, when we compare to her other choice of mate—”
Hardwicke’s voice falters as the liquid inside Revyn’s bowl coagulates.
Most of the solution evaporates, leaving only the faintest threads of silver and gold weaving together until they suddenly darken to pitch, melting the glass until the bowl warps and barely holds its shape.
A putrid scent wafts from the mixture, and I clench my bleeding fist as my heart threatens to explode.
I’d recognize that stench anywhere, because that’s exactly what the rot overtaking the wilds smells like.
“Gods above,” Hardwicke murmurs, looking first at the misshapen bowl and then at Revyn. “How long have you been living in the wilds?” When he doesn’t answer, she grabs his arm and shakes him. “Answer me!”
He lifts his gaze to mine, and my heart breaks at the depth of loneliness staring back at me.
“A long time,” he murmurs, tearing his gaze away to stare at our failed experiment, as though it’s any indication of what sort of mating bond we would have.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, but unlike mine, his wound has already healed on its own.
“Class dismissed,” Hardwicke announces suddenly, releasing Revyn’s arm to face the other students.
“A new assignment will be posted outside the door by this evening. As for you two—” She gestures between me and Revyn.
“—stay away from each other. On your own, your souls may be salvageable, but together . . . I’m afraid there is too much of the wilds within you.
Especially you, Mr. Malus. You scent is already tainted, but for your blood to turn?
” She exhales harshly. “It’s dangerous for you two to see each other. ”
“What does that mean—tainted?” I’ve always hated being referred to as such, but I thought it was little more than a slur for wild wolves. “I thought being called a wild wolf simply meant we were unwanted.”
Hardwicke shakes her head. “And why do you think that is? There’s a reason that all wild shifters are considered dangerous, and it’s not because they aren’t bound by pack law, though I’m sure some Alphas consider that a shifter’s gravest sin.
” Her expression hardens as she looks at Alistair. “Your father among them.”
Alistair grinds his jaw but otherwise remains silent.
“No one wants us in their pack because in the wilds—the rot, it infects anyone who lives there,” Revyn answers cautiously, meeting my eyes and taking measured steps toward me.
“That’s why some packs are abandoning their ancestral grounds in favor of new territory—and why every single one of them refused us entry.
” Taking a strip of cloth from the table, he wraps it around my hand and laces our fingers together to apply pressure to my wound to staunch the bleeding.
“The longer we live in the wilds, the more rot builds inside us.”
I look between the three of them in disbelief. “But plenty of shifters live without packs. Other creatures live in the wilds, too. Witches, dryads, gnomes—”
This time, it’s Alistair who interrupts.
“The rot is spreading, Sienna, faster than anyone lets on, and it’s shifters like Revyn who are the problem.
” He crosses his arms over his chest, his ripped shirt having been replaced after this morning’s lecture with Aesir.
“When the rot consumes an individual, they start spreading it like a disease. Every piece of land they touch is at risk. It’s a miracle that you’ve survived the past decade without becoming tainted. ”
“An abnormality, to be sure,” Hardwicke agrees, her brow pinching, “which requires further study.”
Ignoring both of them, I squeeze Revyn’s hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re sick?
That’s what the rot is, right? A disease?
” I scan his face. He doesn’t look or act any different than he always has.
I’ve never noticed anything strange about his blood, either.
It flows just the same as mine. “We could have done something to fix it.”
If Revyn is tainted, as Hardwicke and the Alphas suggest, then there has to be a way to reverse it.
A flicker of pain crosses his features. “You are my cure, baby.”
One of Hardwicke’s lessons jumps to the forefront of my mind. “Mates can heal each other.”
“Rarely,” Alistair grumbles, clearly displeased about that fact.
Revyn draws a shaky breath. “For a long time, I was content to die alone. After decades of wandering the wilds, I’d planned on it.” He brushes the back of his knuckles across my cheek. “That’s why I came to Roane Valley.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. After the massacre, no one visited Roane Valley. It became a graveyard to outsiders, but to me, it was home. My pack may have perished, but our territory remained.
A valley for the dead.
If what Revyn is saying is true . . . He didn’t enter Roane Valley to rescue me, like I’ve always believed.
He came there to die.
“But,” Revyn whispers, his eyes glittering with the barest hint of starlight, “then I met you, and I didn’t want to walk that path anymore.
I’m standing here today because I want a life with you, Sienna Ashburn.
A full life.” Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses my wrist and flicks his tongue against my pulse point in a show of intimacy.
My heart skips, then races faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
Can I save Revyn’s life if I mate with him? Would that purify the rot?
Alistair’s jaw clicks as he grinds his teeth, somehow reading my mind. “No one has ever cleansed the rot. Not from the land, and definitely not from a living creature. He’s a lost cause, Wildfire. Don’t you dare consider it.”
“Tainted creatures are killed,” Hardwicke murmurs, as though this is important information. “Always.”
Fuck that.
“I won’t lose you to this,” I vow, unable to bear the thought of Revyn dying, let alone of him being killed by someone like Alpha Dire or any of the other pricks in charge.
I won’t lie, I hated the idea of him mating with someone else, but I would have stomached the displeasure if it meant that he was happy and free like he always wanted.
For him to die is . . . unacceptable.
“We’ll find a cure. I promise.” Wrapping my arms around him, I bury my face in his chest and breathe deep, scenting everything that I love about him . . . and a hint of something damp, earthy, wrong.
How long has it been there?
Why haven’t I noticed it before now?
Kissing the top of my head, Revyn practically purrs as he holds me tight. I fight the sting of tears and hold my breath to capture this moment.
I don’t care what anyone says.
I’m not losing Revyn like this.
I’m not losing him at all.