Chapter 30
Caelan
Time doesn’t work right here.
Wherever I am, I’m not dead, and I’m not dreaming.
This is more like another realm, or plane of existence. I really have no Fates-damned idea.
Somewhere between the first twilight and fourth sunrise, I worked out that my soul is somewhere my body isn’t.
No one’s ever mentioned a place like this. Some strange dreamscape you visit when you’re half-alive. This would be a great time to have access to Dax. He would know. He’s a damn encyclopedia.
I know I was injured. I remember the night at Varenthrall’s—and the silver. I remember my packmates showing up and the overwhelming sense of relief that hit like a freight train.
And I remember trying to scream at them through a bloody mouth and shredded throat to find her.
Find our Mate.
Everything after that is foggy.
So yeah, my best guess is that I’m healing. And while my body’s forced to work shit out, my mind or soul or whatever has been dumped here.
Wherever here is.
I call it the Grasslands. Not very pretty, but I’ve never been a poetic guy. Blunt, brute-force is more my style.
It’s a meadow. Endless and beautiful, with tall grass that spans into eternity.
The sun is always shining, and the warmth seeping into my skin is the best thing I’ve ever felt.
There are large, beautiful trees placed sporadically around the meadow.
Birch, Pine, Cedar, Ash, there’s no end to the variation.
Fruit hangs heavy from a few of the trees. Every time I bite into a piece, the exquisite taste explodes on my tongue. Tart, sweet, and perfectly crisp. Juice runs down my chin and onto my shirt, where it disappears.
I never get dirty here, either.
I have the overwhelming sense that this place was created by someone who misses Earth, despite never having been there.
There’s a sense of time passing, but it’s non-linear. One moment it’s twilight, and the next the sun is high in the sky.
That’s all there is, though. Nature, and the never-ending wind blowing through the grass and leaves.
The only thing plaguing me is boredom. There’s nothing to do except think. And my thoughts are always on her.
My Mate.
Idril.
For one excruciating moment, I was ripped from this place. When I opened my eyes, my body was on fire. Nerves screaming, silver flowing like tar in my veins, and Dax leaning over me, yelling something I couldn’t understand.
I grabbed him. Tried to tell him—about Idril, about the Bond. I needed him to stop her. She was pushing her strength into me. I could see it, feel it flowing down the Bond.
A tiny flame, flickering with light and life and love. I knew if she kept pushing, she’d die.
I tried to warn him. To make him understand. But the pain was overwhelming, and before I knew what was happening—
I was opening my eyes, back here again. Pain-free, and full of fucking anxiety. Not long after, I figured out how to put a wall up to block her out.
And I hated it.
All I wanted to do was luxuriate in our Bond, but I couldn’t. I watched that little flame guttering out, flickering up and down our Bond like it was barely stable, and terror pushed me to act.
So I threw up an onyx monstrosity that acted as a barrier between us and held it in place with nothing but sheer willpower.
And Idril? She kept trying to break it down. She slammed against the wall like a moth battering against a pane of glass, over and over. Until she finally stopped. I watched that flame sink back into our Bond, but I could have sworn it did so with resignation.
Stubborn girl.
I can feel the Bonds with my packmates, too, but those are muted. Like wisps of a thread that are still strong, but nearly see-through. I’m not worried about them. They’ll be fine.
I’m worried about my Mate. I can’t touch our Bond with the wall up, but I can watch it.
Which is how I verified that it’s not a single thread like my pack Bond is. It’s two threads, twined together.
One is silver. Strong and pulsing. The other is gold and thin. I recognize the shimmering warmth of it—our Scent Match Bond.
The silver thread is thicker, denser, and thrums like it has its own heartbeat. It almost completely overshadows the golden thread. I know it’s not the Blood Mate Bond, which is a dense, burgundy thread—I haven’t tasted her blood. Yet.
So what the hell is it?
All the time in the world to think, and no fucking answers.
Idril’s blood containing unknown magical properties, is the only big difference between her and, well, everyone else. I keep circling back to that, wondering if it has something to do with this Bond.
That’s a mindfuck, too. The blood I found in Varenthrall’s study is Idril’s.
Our Mate’s.
The thing is, I don’t even care about what she is or why she’s different. I’m more concerned about what her piece of shit father is doing with her blood. He all but villain-monologued himself to death in that basement, but he didn’t provide me with any concrete answers.
I need out of here so I can talk to my pack.
Well… after I lock myself away with Idril for twenty-four hours. At the very least.
I sigh, letting my head fall back, enjoying the way the treebark scrapes against my scalp.
“What the fuck are you?” I murmur, staring into the branches of the tree. Not that anyone is listening.
Just me, the foliage, and the birds I can hear but can’t see. Another oddity in a long list of them.
I let my eyes wander, watching the play of the shadows from leaves across the near-perfect trunk of the tree.
A twig cracks above me. Something shifts in the air.
I stiffen.
In all the time I’ve been here—days? Weeks? Months?—nothing has ever moved on its own. Not even leaves fall off the trees. It’s such an out-of-place sound that it puts me on alert.
I stand, peering into the branches, searching for what made the sound.
The wind stills. Like a switch has flipped, the near-constant warmth pressing against my skin vanishes. The birds chirping in the trees go silent. The leaves stop rustling. Every sound, every movement, just… stops.
What the fuck is going on?
My muscles tense, and I spin, preparing for an attack.
Wrong. Something is wrong.
Crack!
Fire explodes above my head. I jerk back, nearly falling as flames erupt from a single branch of the White Oak. Bits of fire lick up and down its bark, not spreading or catching, but burning steadily on that one branch.
The leaves go first, disintegrating and blowing away on a wind that returned as suddenly as it left.
The flames shoot into the sky like fireworks. Sap boils and pops like gunshots. Bark peels in blackened strips before turning to ash.
I stumble back further, convinced the whole tree is about to go up in flames.
Fuck! It’s going to catch, and light this entire Fates-damned meadow on fire. I have to do something. Have to figure out how to put it out. Have to—
SNAP!
The sound echoes around the meadow. The whoosh of the fire flaring hotter and larger forces me back yet another step. At the same time, my hand flies to my sternum where the Bond in my chest catches fire.
The gold thread is wound tightly around the silver and stays dimly lit, but solid. But silver thread lights up like someone poured gasoline on it and struck a match. It’s searing, pulsing, pulling.
The golden thread winds tighter around the silver, but the silver—
The silver thread demands my attention.
The fire in my chest is hotter than the warmth of the fire on my face.
My Bond with Idril is insistent. Yanking and pulling.
Forcing me to pay attention. The third time it yanks, the bark on the White Oak blackens, right before the entire branch drops through the leaves of the canopy.
Charred ash falls like rain, guttering out before touching the grass.
I throw my hands up to protect myself, eyes slamming shut.
Everything quiets. No fire, no crackling, no wind.
Nothing.
I open my eyes.
And there she is.
Blinking rapidly, like she isn’t used to the sunlight. She raises an arm to shield her eyes, like a fucking angel come to Earth.
Fates. The fire wasn’t destroying anything—it was summoning her.
I stand here like an idiot, eyes wide and chest pumping, unable to catch my breath. The Bond in my chest thrums and vibrates in satisfaction. I don’t care about wrapping my mind around a Mate Bond having such obvious feelings, though.
Because my Mate is here. Standing in front of me.
She’s here. She’s real. She’s mine.
My lungs stutter. I can’t get enough air.
Idril blinks slowly, her gaze unfocused and confused as she tries to make sense of what’s happening. She lowers her arm as her eyes adjust, and then those beautiful blue eyes that I can’t stop thinking about, focus on me.
And everything stops.
There you are.
She stares at me in shock, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. She’s frozen— probably as terrified as I am to make a move, just in case doing so tears us away from each other.
There are three feet and a chasm of emotions between us. Both frozen in shock. Both terrified to believe what we’re seeing is real.
Then slowly, so fucking slowly, she raises a shaking hand to her mouth, and my beautiful, perfect Mate breaks.
She sobs silently, folding over and collapsing on herself. Tears spill in shimmering tracks down her too-pale cheeks.
She doesn’t make a sound, but I can taste her heartbreak like it has its own flavor. I can feel it—her devastation, her grief, her relief. It’s pouring down the Bond, flooding me with her anguish.
That snaps me out of my paralysis. I move, lunging for her and closing the distance between us like my life depends on it.
Because it fucking does.
“Idril—”
She crashes into me. Or I crash into her.
I don’t know, and I don’t care, because she’s in my arms where she’s meant to be, and it feels like the world has righted itself again.
Her arms wrap around my waist, and I fold my body over hers, tucking her head beneath my chin and surrounding her completely.